"Shud'up before I give you anotha' mark on that face of yours, pretty boy."
The threat came thick with a harsh New Jersey accent—gravel and smoke, unrefined and sadistic.
Pain flared across Cyra's jaw, dull but deep. Metallic-tasting saliva filled his mouth, and he spat defiantly onto the concrete floor, eyes locked on his captor.
"I'm not handing over the moon gem until you give me what we agreed upon," he hissed through clenched teeth.
His face throbbed with every heartbeat, each pulse a reminder of how dangerous the man before him truly was.
He rolled his shoulders, feeling the numb tingle creeping down to his fingers. The zip ties bit deep into his wrists. His hands felt both heavy and foreign, as if the nerves no longer belonged to him.
"You ain't gettin' nothin'. Now shud up before I really get angry," the thug snarled, stepping closer. He was short and stocky, his bulk exaggerated by an oversized jacket.
Behind him loomed another man—tall, silent, a slab of shadow with eyes like dull coins.
The shorter one pressed the end of a cold metal bat to Cyra's temple, grinning as if daring him to flinch. Then, without warning, he snatched up Cyra's laptop bag, rummaging through it until his filthy fingers found the prize.
The moon gem glowed like a living wound.
Its pulsing red glow spilled across the walls, molten and unnatural, like lava frozen mid-flow. Even in the dim warehouse, it burned through the dark—too vivid to ignore, too wrong to look away.
While they argued over its authenticity, movement flickered at the edge of Cyra's vision.
A figure slipped from the shadows—quiet as breath. His pulse jumped. Blonde hair caught the faint light.
"Clara?... Is that—what are you—" His voice faltered to a whisper, barely a sound.
She raised a finger to her lips, eyes fierce, and disappeared back into the dark.
What the hell was she doing here? What was she planning?
He didn't have time to wonder. His own plan was already risky—and its success depended entirely on the thugs being as stupid as they looked. He'd worry about getting her the hell out of here later.
Cyra straightened slightly, testing the ties. No give. He exhaled through his nose. Fine. Let's see how stupid these too are then.
"It's real," he said suddenly, his voice sharp enough to slice through their bickering. Both men turned, startled.
"Then why's it all red, huh?" sneered the short one, squinting at the gem like it might bite him.
"Moon gem ain't 'sposed to be red. You think we're stupid?"
"How many moon gems have you seen, good sir—?" Cyra countered, his tone laced with lazy arrogance.
"—If you don't believe me, take it outside. Everyone knows an authentic moon gem glows fluorescently under the moonlight."
It was a lie. A dangerous, beautiful lie.
The men exchanged uneasy looks. Finally, the short one grunted, "Fine. I'll check. You stay here with pretty boy. Don't let him try nothin'."
He took the gem and vanished out the truck bay door.
The larger man remained—a wall of silence and muscle. He stood motionless, arms crossed over his chest, his breath shallow and even. His presence filled the room like smog.
Cyra sized him up, debating whether or not he'd be able to take him. He met his gaze briefly, then dropped it, pretending submission.
"You've got a trustworthy partner," Cyra said casually. "Most would've bolted with the gem by now."
The giant didn't answer, but the faint narrowing of his eyes said he'd heard.
Not as stupid as I thought, Cyra mused. But no visible weapons... If I run, Jumbo here won't be quick to follow.
His wrists burned under the plastic ties. His feet, though—free. That was their mistake. He angled himself to throw a incapacitating kick to Jumbo's stomach but stopped.
A flicker of movement again—Clara, sliding silently along the wall. Heading for the exit.
No, not that way! His thoughts screamed louder than he dared speak.
"Hey! Stop that wiggling!" The deep, gravelly voice broke the silence. It was the first thing Jumbo had said, and the weight of it was enough to make the air tremble.
Cyra froze, expecting a hit. None came. Taking advantage of the proximity, Cyra shifted his weight to his hip and pulled his leg back to strike but instead of a strike, the wail of a car alarm split the night.
Be-eeep. Be-eeep. Beep-beep.
Both men froze.
Was that... the short one?
Was he actually stealing the gem?
That lie was supposed to be a distraction, not a prophecy.
"Oh, there he goes," Cyra said dryly. "Told you so. Terrible partner."
Jumbo's face darkened, suspicion flickering like a fuse. Without another word, he bolted for the door, muttering curses that echoed through the warehouse.
Cyra exhaled, slow and deliberate.
Then, from the shadows—Clara again. Quick. Cautious. Brilliant.
She moved like moonlight, every step precise. To Cyra, she looked almost unreal, a flash of gold in a sea of dust and concrete.
"How did you—" he began, then stopped, staring at her torn sleeves and blood-streaked hands. His chest tightened.
"There's a broken window in the corner," she whispered, crouching behind him.
Her fingers trembled as she tugged at the ties. When her skin brushed his, the air seemed to hum—soft, electric, alive.
A faint blue shimmer danced where their hands met, veins of light threading through the dark.
Cyra turned his head, eyes wide.
She didn't look up.
"I'll explain that later," Clara murmured, already biting the tie with her teeth. "I'll explain everything but let's get the hell out of here."
"I knew there was a spark between us, Princess," he said, the grin tugging at one corner of his mouth.
"You're an idiot," she muttered around the plastic, her voice muffled, her pouty lips brushing his arm.
Sparks flared again—tiny lightning veins tracing their skin.
The air between them throbbed with energy and something else. Something dangerous.
Snap. The zip tie gave way.
Cyra was free.
He didn't hesitate. He pulled her close, an embrace that was more instinct than thought, more relief than reason. Her heartbeat thundered against his chest, fast and wild.
He could've kissed her. He wanted to.
But not yet. Not here.
There wasn't time before Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb came back to finish what they'd started.