It’s not spoken, but his eyes scream it.
“Oh my god,” I breathe, rushing forward. This is obviously a prisoner, but I don’t know! It freaking wrong. I hold out my hands, unsure what to do. I whisper, “Hang on. Don’t move.”
His wrists are rubbed raw. The chains bite into his skin. He’s too weak to hold his head up.
I look for keys. Nothing.
The rope around his ankles is tied so brutally tight it’s cutting off circulation.
I grab a cup from a nearby table, fill it at a basin in the corner, and return. My hands shake as I lift the cup to his cracked lips.
He drinks greedily. Water spills down his chin.
“Thank you,” he rasps, voice shredded. “Please… help…”
His tears spill freely. Real tears. No bravado of a mobster, but the terror of a broken human being.
My heart cracks. I touch his forehead, shushing him. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ll… help you. I promise.”
A shadow moves behind me.
I freeze. Turn.
Gustav stands in the doorway, expression carved from stone.
Micha flanks him, hands behind his back, already assessing the scene.
Gustav’s eyes find me first.
Me here. The water. My hand on another man’s face.
Something fractures inside him. God, no. I see it — a silent shatter behind his irises.
That fragile bond formed last night snapped. That reality stabs into me unexpectedly. I’m not trying to free his prisoner. I’m just— it’s so cruel.
“Gustav…” I whisper, stepping back, lowering my eyes. I feel exposed, but differently than last night. Shame rises in my throat.
The pain flickers, and darkness pours in to replace it.
He moves before I can blink.
A flash of steel. A wet sound like a gasp cut short. The blond man’s eyes jerk wide. His entire body jolts.
A line of crimson opens across his throat.
He gurgles once.
Then silence.
He just slit the man’s throat.
I slap a hand over my mouth. My knees nearly buckle. Micha catches my elbow, steady and calm, the way someone is when they see monsters act exactly as expected.
I’ve never seen someone killed before. It’s nothing like the movies. It feels like a soul was just torn from the room and nothing can be reversed.
Gustav doesn’t look at the body.
He doesn’t look at Micha.
