The setup

The rhythmic splash of footsteps echoed through the underground tunnel, drawing closer. The others were coming. I forced in a slow breath, steadying my hands, my pulse, my thoughts.

There was no time for hesitation. No room for regret.

And yet, beneath the lingering heat of adrenaline, something curdled in my stomach. A boy—no older than I had once been—lay lifeless at my feet. Snuffed out in an instant, like he had never even existed. My fingers twitched at the thought, but I shoved it down, burying it beneath the weight of the moment.

Not now.

The others came to a halt just a few steps away, their gazes flickering to the fresh corpse sprawled across the damp stone. No one spoke at first. The silence was heavier than the air down here, thick with unspoken questions. Accusations.

Tobias's voice finally cut through it. "So this is the infamous Link? The one who sold us out?"

I turned back to the man in question, my stare unwavering. He looked smaller now, hunched in on himself, eyes darting between the dead body and the faces surrounding him.

"Yeah," I murmured, the word leaving my mouth almost too easily. Too calm. Too steady. I felt it then—how unnatural that stillness was. How cold.

A part of me knew it should bother me. But it didn't.

"Wait! Listen, Rowan! You know I had to do it—it's fucking Ironjaw! He—he'd kill me if I didn't."

Link's voice was frantic, every word tumbling over the next in his desperation. His breath came fast and shallow, his face slick with sweat. He was trying to read me, trying to find some hint of mercy in my expression.

He wouldn't find any.

I tilted my head slightly, watching him with a slow, deliberate stare. "So what?" The words came out quiet, but there was no softness in them, only the cold bite of steel. "Why should I care?"

His mouth opened, then snapped shut. A flicker of panic lit his eyes, like a cornered rat searching for an escape. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, before trying again. "I—I'll tell you everything I know. Please! Just don't kill me."

His plea sent a wave of disgust crawling up my spine. A man like Link—spineless, slippery, a creature of opportunity. The type to lick the boots of the powerful and step on the weak.

I exhaled slowly, letting the moment stretch, letting the weight of my silence press down on him like a noose tightening around his neck. "You'll do that anyway."

A muscle in his jaw twitched. He nodded—or tried to—his movements jerky under Talia's unyielding grip.

"Talk."

His eyes darted between me and Talia before he finally started, his voice uneven. "They've been looking for me. I wasn't just hiding from you."

He sucked in a breath, his words spilling out faster now. "The big sadistic bastard, Joey, he's been after me too. But he's as dumb as a fucking rock—that's the only reason he hasn't found me yet, even with all the resources at his disposal. He's all muscle, no brain."

He tried to wet his lips, but his tongue darted out over cracked skin. He was still afraid. Good.

I let his words settle before taking a step closer, my shadow stretching over him. "What do you know about Victor?"

The moment stretched, thick with tension. Link's eyes darted from my face to the dagger at his throat, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. He was calculating, weighing the cost of his words—how much he could spill before it got him killed, whether I was the greater threat or if Ironjaw's wrath would find him first.

I grew impatient. The blade in my hand shifted, pressing just enough to let him feel the bite of cold steel against his skin. He flinched. "Alright, alright!" he sputtered, his voice cracking under the weight of his own cowardice.

His gaze flicked to Talia before he spoke again, his words tumbling out in a rush. "Victor—that bastard's an Awakened! Stronger than her!" He jerked his chin toward Talia, his expression desperate, as if hoping that revelation alone would be enough to buy his life.

Stronger than Talia? A ripple of unease coursed through me. That wasn't just a problem—it was a disaster waiting to happen.

Link swallowed hard, eyes wide, sweat beading along his forehead. "You don't get it, Rowan. You think the Spiders are enough? You're dreaming. The Angels—they're on another level. You can't even imagine the power they have. Victor's got close to two hundred men under his thumb. Two hundred! Every single one of them would kill for him without hesitation."

His breath hitched as if the weight of those words had finally sunk in, like even he was grasping, in real-time, the kind of monster he had sold us out to.

"And you know what's worse?" His voice dropped to a whisper, a near-frantic edge creeping in. "He doesn't just run his little empire in the shadows. He has the balls to defy the city itself. The fucking city authority. And you know what happens to people who cross them?"

He let out a hollow, humorless chuckle. "Nobody defies the city and lives."

The air between us felt heavier now. The implications clear. And yet, somehow, I knew Link still wasn't telling me everything. Not yet.

I leaned in a little closer, the silence between us thickening as I searched his eyes for any sign of hesitation, any hint of something he wasn't saying. "He has to have a weakness, right?" The words came out measured, calm, though inside I was a little more frantic. I needed everything. Everything.

Link shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting to the dagger still pressed against his skin. He winced as if considering whether it was worth lying to save his life.

Finally, he sighed, his shoulders slumping. "He might have one. That could be your only shot, but without it... you're screwed." His voice was almost regretful, like he had some small sympathy for our plight. But only just enough to make sure he stayed alive for a few moments longer.

I gestured for him to go on, my patience running thin, but not quite broken. "Go ahead."

He swallowed, lips dry, and his voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. "Okay, here's the thing. There's a higher-up. He's not like the rest of Victor's goons. His son... his son was just kidnapped by the Hounds."

He paused, letting the weight of those words sink in. "The guy's had enough of Victor's bullshit. He doesn't even want to follow him anymore."

He leaned forward, the quiet urgency of his voice seeping into the air.

"He's got a loyal following, thirty to forty men who would follow him if he jumped ship. They'd leave Victor's side in a heartbeat."

I froze for a moment, the world momentarily shifting beneath my feet. The possibility, the irony, hit me like a sucker punch. My mind flickered to Mark—the bastard we could've used.

If Valerie hadn't made the call to kill him, if she hadn't torn that card from my hand, maybe we'd have had a bargaining chip here.

But no. That was the past. The opportunity was gone, buried in the dirt with a body we never got to use. I let out a quiet breath, trying to hide the frustration gnawing at me. Fuck.

"Alright," I said with a slow grin, my voice barely above a whisper, "thanks for the appetizer. Now, let's get to the main course." I let my tongue trace my lips, the anticipation in the air thick, like a predator eyeing its prey.

The Link's body tensed, his eyes darting around, wide with desperation. "W-what more do you want? I've told you everything I know, please—just let me go," he pleaded again, his voice cracking, the sound of it like nails on a chalkboard. Pathetic. It made my skin crawl.

"Let you go?" I repeated, the words rolling off my tongue like poison. "Oh no, we're just getting started." I let a moment of silence drag on, the tension building between us as I exchanged a look with the others, each of us understanding the unspoken plan. "In short, you're going to set up Joey. You'll lead him right into our trap."

The change in his face was immediate. His eyes went wide, panic flooding his features. His hands shook. He was on the verge of breaking, already anticipating his fate. "W-what? I can't! They'll—" His voice faltered, choking on the words, as if just the thought of crossing Victor's men had frozen him in place. "They'll skin me alive. Please... don't make me do it."

The room felt smaller as I stood there, watching him squirm, caught between his fear of Victor and his fear of us. The silence stretched out, heavy with expectation, and for a brief moment, it felt like the world was holding its breath.

I leaned in a little closer, letting the words fall heavy in the space between us. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut, every breath feeling like it echoed louder than the last. "Like I said before," I drawled, my tone cold, almost detached, "I don't give a damn. You're smart. Figure it out."

He squirmed, his eyes darting around the room, but I wasn't done. The plan was simple, but he needed to understand its weight. "Here's how it's going to go down," I continued, each word slow and deliberate, as if I was carving the path for him to follow.

"You'll tell Joey you found something interesting—something that might pique his interest. Make it sound like you just stumbled onto it, but don't overdo it. Keep it casual. You'll tell him we move every four days. And the next stop? That old church near Lila's place. You remember it, right? The one falling apart on the corner.

Tell him that's where we're headed, and it's prime for an attack. You'll say they should strike on the third day, catch us unawares, vulnerable. Expecting it to be easy, like we're off guard. In four days, that's when they'll hit."

I paused for a moment, my gaze hardening as I locked eyes with him. "Tell him fifteen men, no more. That should be enough. They'll think they have us in the palm of their hand, and that's when we turn it around on them."

The words hung in the air like smoke, the weight of them pressing on my chest. I watched as he absorbed the plan, his expression shifting from fear to something darker, something more resigned.

He knew he didn't have a choice. But I also knew that fear was a powerful motivator, and as much as he wanted to fight it, he wasn't going to.

He hesitated for a moment, his voice shaky, but in the end, he spoke the words I was waiting to hear. "I'll do it. I'll help you." There was a hint of resignation in his tone, though I could tell it was more about survival than any genuine desire to cooperate.

His eyes darted around, searching for an out that wasn't there. But I wasn't fooled. He was trying to convince himself as much as me.

I grinned, a sharp edge to it, and gave him a playful slap on the cheek, feeling the sting of the contact reverberate. "Not so fast, you beast," I teased, though the words were more to mask the undercurrent of danger that hummed in the air. I wasn't about to make this easy for him.

I pointed to the enforcer standing a few paces away, my voice steady despite the flicker of doubt creeping up my spine. "This guy here," I said, motioning to him with a nonchalance I didn't feel, "will be your new assistant. You can call him… Spiky. You know, spiky hair?" I glanced over at Link, who just blinked back at me, utterly unimpressed.

I tried to hide the stir of frustration bubbling inside me. What the hell was I even doing? Sometimes, I wondered if I was just playing parts in a script I couldn't remember writing.

The silence that followed felt heavy, thick with the weight of what I was setting into motion. "Well, Spiky," I continued, my voice taking on a more threatening edge, "won't leave your side. He'll be our little insurance policy."

I let the words hang in the air for a moment, watching his eyes flick from Spiky to me, probably weighing his options, realizing just how little he had left. "You know," I added, "your record with trust is... not exactly glowing."

Spiky stepped forward, brandishing his dagger. His apathic look gave way to a quiet menace around him.

"Well, with that settled," I said, my voice cutting through the heavy tension, "Talia, release him."

Talia gave a sharp nod, her hands uncoiling from around his throat, the pressure of her grip lifting like a sudden exhale. Link sagged slightly, his body still trembling as if the weight of his situation hadn't fully hit him.

He was free, but not really. The fear in his eyes hadn't quite faded; it still lingered there, a dull panic simmering under the surface.

He didn't even move at first, like he was waiting for the next strike. The silence between us stretched taut, but I wasn't particularly concerned with the shake in his limbs.

He was a mess. But I wasn't surprised.

"Get it moving!"