Krevyr continued walking, each step deliberate, measured, and the kind of calm that only bred trouble. I trailed behind him, my every nerve on edge. The longer we stayed here, the more likely this whole damn situation would twist into something ugly—and if not for Krevyr, then most definitely for me.
We were so close. Just a few more steps and we'd be out of this cursed alley. Free. Or something like it.
"Krevyr, darling," Ruetta's voice called out like a knife dipped in honey. "I was wondering when you'd tell us."
I stopped. Slowly turned my head. There it was again—that grin. That same goddamn grin.
"Tell you what, Aunt Rue?" Krevyr asked, his tone laced with practiced confusion.
She chuckled, the sound sickeningly sweet. Then she laughed, loud and full of mockery. "Poor thing," she muttered, dripping pity in a way that only made it cruel. I didn't know if she meant Krevyr or me.
Krevyr turned fully, hands deep in his pockets, face unreadable—but I could feel the buzz of his magic crackling around him like static before a lightning storm. I turned too, and the cuffs on my wrist dimmed, then sparked again with a sharp jolt that made me flinch.
"I like it when you hide things from me," Ruetta said like it was a compliment. Like it was love.
The cold hit then. Not like weather—but like something crawling under my skin. I staggered, my body tilting with the dizziness, unable to even hold the wall. My vision stretched, widened, blurred. This chill wasn't Ryke's or Krevyr's… hell, not even Victor's. This one crawled up your spine and whispered in your ear, ancient and wrong. I glanced at Ruetta. She was smiling.
At me.
I blinked. The breeze whipped my hair across my eyes, strands cutting into my vision. I brushed it aside on instinct, eyes locking with hers again—
Wait.
Where is she?
All I could see now was the large man but no sign of Ruetta. Gone, like smoke in the wind. I felt the breeze again, colder now. The pressure around me vanished in an instant.
She's gone—?
"Brace yourself," Krevyr said behind me, his voice the calm before a storm.
"What do you mean—?" But the words died the moment a force slammed into me.
Pain exploded. My back met the wall with a sickening thud, air ripped from my lungs. I gasped, barely holding on, until something yanked me upright. No—something caught my collar.
I blinked through the pain and saw her.
Ruetta.
She held the collar between her fingers like it was some trinket she'd found in a shop. The larger man stepped forward, finally noticing me like I'd just come alive.
"My, my, Krevyr," Ruetta purred. "I didn't know you kept slaves."
She gave the collar a tug. I burned with rage.
"Come see, Howard," she cooed.
The man crouched beside us, his breath hot and foul. "Goodness gracious, Krevyr," he said with that rumbling tone, "a kinky sex slave at that."
The world snapped red.
Sex slave?
My breath hitched. My fists trembled. Rage brewed like lava in my chest, boiling, spilling over. My skin prickled as if it wanted to tear itself free. My teeth clenched so hard my jaw creaked. My ears rang. My vision shook. I wanted to scream. I wanted to claw their eyes out and make them beg for the names they'd dared to call me. Everything in me howled to burn this place to ash and laugh while it crumbled. I was fire—and yet, chained like a mutt.
"She isn't a sex slave," Krevyr finally said, voice cool as frost. "And she isn't my slave."
Ruetta didn't stop grinning. She tugged me closer. Her fingers found my face—cold, unwelcome—and squeezed my cheeks like I was some porcelain doll. My jaw locked. I wanted to bite her.
"Careful, Aunt," Krevyr said, inching closer. "She bites."
He looked at me, blank. Like this didn't matter. Like none of this did. I could've screamed.
"Tell me, doll," Ruetta whispered, her breath hot on my skin, "why do you look so familiar?"
Her finger trailed along my jaw, to my lip. She pressed it down. I didn't flinch. I refused.
She grabbed a lock of my hair, brown and tangled, and sniffed. The revulsion twisted my stomach.
"You smell familiar too…"
I grit my teeth. Then, I spat the words—
"Don't touch me!."
Ruetta stilled, then chuckled low and slow like she'd found a new toy. Howard laughed, elbowing Krevyr in the ribs. "You sure know how to pick 'em, kid. She got spice."
Krevyr didn't flinch.
Ruetta hummed, tilting her head. "That fire in your eyes," she whispered. "That look… I've seen it before." Her smile widened, eyes narrowing, then—
She gasped, delighted.
"No… it can't be."
In a blur, she plucked a strand of my hair twirled it around her fingers pulling on my scalp as if I was her little toy,
Then slammed a single finger straight into my shoulder.
White-hot pain tore through me. I screamed mouth wide in silent agony. My knees buckled, but her grip on the collar kept me upright. The finger—her finger—twisted deeper into the muscle, grinding the flesh like a corkscrew. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. My vision spun. All I knew was fire and the cruel grin above me.
Krevyr's voice, flat and final, cut through it all.
"That's enough, Aunt Ruetta."
She paused. Grumbled like a disappointed child. Then released the collar.
I dropped like dead weight. My body slumped against the wall; shoulder burning like it'd been doused in acid. I clutched the wound, my breaths short and sharp, the blood warm as the crimson seeped through my fingers. Pain licked through every nerve, buzzing, stinging, and crawling like a thousand angry wasps beneath my skin. My stomach twisted. My thoughts burned. Rage swirled, heavier than ever, louder than ever.
Ruetta stepped back into the shadows, smiling as she licked the blood from her finger like a dessert. Her eyes flickered—bright, electric blue—then dimmed back to normal.
She laughed. Not softly. Loud. Maniacal.
"Well, would you look at that…" she grinned. "?Seems the Huntress left us offspring after all."
Howard looked astonished, laughter bursting from him as he turned to Krevyr.
"You never told us you kidnapped the Huntress's daughter," he said with the tone of a chiding child — though the wicked grin twisting his lips said otherwise.
"When have I ever owed you explanations?" Krevyr replied coldly, stepping toward me. He extended a hand, offering to help me up. I stared at it, and then shot a glare up at him. His expression? Blank. Unreadable.
Now? Now you choose to help, you bastard?
My jaw clenched. I smacked his hand away with my bloodied one. He didn't so much as blink, only straightened to his full height and watched me in silence as I forced myself to stand. Pain flared in my back, a sharp sting crawling over every bruised and battered inch of me, but I rose anyway.
Across the alleyway, Ruetta was still licking her hand clean — my blood on her tongue. I locked eyes with her, seething. Rage surged through me, white-hot and near blinding. I took a step forward — then stopped. My legs refused to obey, as if they'd fused with the floor.
Don't do it.
She may need her face rearranged, but the consequences could be worse.
Krevyr made no move to stop me. The sack slung over his shoulder shifted slightly as he stood there, hands stuffed lazily in his pockets. I threw him a look drenched in loathing, and then turned it back on her.
She'll pay. Not now... but she will.
I stepped back. Once. Twice. Again. Until I reached Krevyr, who still didn't spare me a glance.
"Wise choice, doll," Ruetta purred behind me. That grin — gods, that grin — slithered into her voice. My blood boiled. No. It didn't just boil. It evaporated. It melted.
I wanted to rip that thing she called a tongue right out of her mouth.
"Won't you let me play with her, Krevyr darling?" she cooed, voice pitched like an eager, deranged child. Her fingers slid along her lips again, lapping up the last smear of red. My red.
Krevyr exhaled through his nose, the barest trace of irritation showing as he raked his fingers through his hair.
"Victor made it clear — don't damage the merchandise." His voice was calm, cool as steel. "And let's be honest, I doubt you're capable of following even a basic instruction like that."
Ruetta rolled her eyes, lips twitching into something halfway between a pout and a snarl.
"Oh, come on. I wouldn't ruin her. Just... bruise her a little. Maybe a rib or two."
Krevyr gave her a look so flat it could slice through her skin.
"Last time you said that, we had to bury three bodies and replace half the floorboards. You call that a 'little'?"
She giggled, unnervingly delighted.
"You always exaggerate. They were barely breathing when I left them."
He sighed — not the lazy kind, not the dramatic kind, but the one that screamed "I'm too tired for this psychotic bullshit." His jaw flexed slightly as he adjusted the sack on his shoulder, his whole demeanor bored yet annoyingly composed. "Exactly my point," he muttered, that casual tone cutting deeper than any blade. "You lack self-control, Aunt Rue."
Howard, that insufferable bastard, raised his hand like a kid in class begging for attention. "Then may I sleep with her?"
My blood ignited — no, detonated — I could feel it boil and roar inside me, ready to explode and rip through my skin and spine. My knees bent instinctively, body coiled like a beast about to pounce, every inch of me vibrating with pure wrath. But I didn't move. I couldn't move. I glared at Krevyr, and there it was — the sharp pulse of his magic, snaking through the air like silent shackles, invisible yet all too real. It wrapped around me like chains dipped in ice and fire, forcing stillness where fury wanted motion. I cursed him in my head, a string of words so venomous even the gods would flinch.
"What did I just say?" Krevyr muttered, and even though his voice was low, there was no mistaking the storm churning beneath.
Howard just laughed, throwing his arms up like a clown in a circus. "Just messing with you, Krev. No worries. You know I wouldn't actually—"
"You wouldn't?" Krevyr's voice was flat, sharp, a blade wrapped in velvet. "Because you've said that too many times for me to believe it anymore."
Howard scoffed. "Oh come on. You think I'm actually that low? I mean, yeah, she's hot—"
"Howard," Krevyr snapped, his eyes narrowing. "Don't finish that sentence."
There was a strange beat of silence, the kind that hums with all the things not said. Krevyr's shoulders were tense, his grip tightening on the sack. If there was ever a moment where he seemed one insult away from exploding, it was now.
Howard huffed, his tone souring. "You used to be fun."
Krevyr exhaled loudly, almost dramatically, like he was expelling the last ounce of patience from his lungs. "And you used to know when to shut the fuck up."
He turned without another word, striding toward the alley's mouth. "Let's go," he said to me, like it was the most casual thing in the world, as if my shoulder wasn't still stinging from Ruetta's earlier strike, as if I wasn't still reeling from the weight of everything I'd just swallowed whole.
I followed him, stiff and silent, blood still simmering under my skin. I could hear Howard's voice behind me, barking orders at the men like a deranged captain commanding rats. I didn't turn back. I wouldn't.
"Oh, slave??!" Ruetta's voice came sharp and sticky, like a poisoned dagger thrown playfully. Krevyr didn't react. Not even a twitch. My magic cracked and coiled within me, the raw heat of it nearly bubbling out, but the collar and cuffs dug in deeper, searing the flesh beneath like molten steel. I gritted my teeth, swallowed the scream I wanted to hurl, and kept walking.
"Later, sweetheart. Don't forget me." Her voice was drifting now, fading, but it still sliced through my nerves like a serrated edge.
And then—sunlight. We finally stepped out of the alley and into the chaotic sprawl of the lower market. The sudden brightness punched my eyes, and I had to blink a few times to make sense of it all. Merchants hawked their wares with voices full of honeyed lies, carts and stalls brimmed with overripe fruit, polished weapons, glittering trinkets. People bustled about in a rhythm of practiced ignorance — laughing, arguing, living, all while the filth of the alley behind us clung to my skin like rot.
I turned back just once — and there she was. Ruetta. Still standing there, still smiling like she hadn't violated every fiber of my dignity.
She dipped into a mock bow, her expression innocent and vile all at once.
"And I won't forget you," she called, loud enough for only me to hear, and then she vanished, like a dream you wake from only to realize it was a nightmare.
A shiver dragged its way up my spine. No, that wasn't the last time I'd see her. I knew that in my gut, in the parts of me that dreams didn't reach. That woman was stitched to my fate now, and someday, that thread would tighten.
The market stretched before me, vast and loud, but suddenly empty in a terrifying way — because Krevyr was gone. I stopped, spun, scanned. Left. Right. Nothing. My pulse picked up. I muttered a curse under my breath and veered right, slipping into the crowd, shoulder throbbing, blood dried into a tacky mess. The pain didn't fade — it just became background noise. My ears filled with the hum of haggling voices, desperate merchants shouting deals no one believed, and the sharp sting of reality slapped me again.
You could run away.
Yeah, no shit. Like that thought hadn't already chewed its way through every crevice in my brain. But with Krevyr lurking somewhere in this maze of sweat and voices, and my perception shot to hell thanks to the cuffs, what the hell would be the point? Even if I sprinted, I'd barely get ten feet before something stopped me — whether it was magic, steel, or worse. A child ran past me, giggling, a blur of motion and innocence. I stepped aside just in time, watching him disappear into the crowd. People smiled as he ran by, muttering things like "Such energy!" and "He'll be strong one day!" with eyes full of fake hope.
And for a second, just a second, I was thrown back.
A memory smashed into me with brutal grace — Naial, my little sister. Her small hand in mine, her sobs quiet and broken, and my own heart threatening to shatter into pieces as I knelt in front of her. I remember wiping her tears with shaking fingers, forcing a smile that cracked at the edges. I told her to run. I told her not to stop. I told her to live — even if I couldn't. Even if I wouldn't. And she didn't want to go. Gods, she didn't want to go. But I made her. I made her promise. Her tiny pinky locked with mine, trembling, scared, brave. That promise still lives in me, curled up next to the rage.
I blinked, and the market came back into focus — harsh, loud, ugly. But I was still standing. I gritted my teeth and pushed forward, scanning every face, every step, looking for that bastard Krevyr. He couldn't have gone far. And even if he had… I still had to find him.
Because I wasn't done.
Not yet.