Freedom had a sound.
It echoed in the quiet crack of the final lock. In the low hum of footsteps across wet asphalt. In the ragged breath of a man reborn.
I inhaled the night like it was scripture.
The world hadn’t changed much. It was still filthy, still crawling with men who wanted things they didn’t deserve. Still hungry for softness to ruin.
But I had changed…or so I believed.
The world thought they had buried me behind stone and steel, never to be heard of again. They thought they buried justice. But they mistook the cage for the end. Fools. All of them. You do not chain a storm. You do not cage a ghost.
Now I, Julian Bourdet, walked unseen, hunting, while searching for my daughter.
The years had not dulled the image of her. My Juliette. I couldn’t believe how much she had grown. All bloomed in a world too cruel for such beauty. And alone, perhaps. Or worse, surrounded by wolves in sheep’s clothing. Men with wandering eyes and filthy minds. Men who dared to look at her.
I would not allow it.
She was sacred. Meant for no one. Touched by no one. Not a soul deserved her. Not a soul understood her. Only I did.
I would find her. And I would take her away from the cities that corrupted, from the people that lied, from the hands that had dared to touch her.
I would reclaim what was always mine. Keep her in silence. In safety. Away from the disease of men.
She would be my second chance.
She would be my resurrection.
And if…if some man had dared to stake a claim on her, dared to press his lips where none should, to sleep beside her and call her ‘mine’…
My hand clenched at that thought, my breath turning to ash.
No. I wouldn’t allow it.
I had already dug graves before.
I wasn’t afraid to dig more.
