REJECTED OFFER

EPISODE 10 – "The Weight of Blood"

3:02 AM

Elijah sat in the back of a surveillance van, eyes glued to grainy video feeds. He hadn't blinked in ten minutes. When one of Viktor's men tapped his shoulder, he turned slowly.

"We found her," the man said, voice low. "South Berlin. Old textile factory."

Elijah was out of the van before the sentence finished.

3:48 AM

They found Maya unconscious, bruised, hands tied behind her. She was barely breathing but alive.

Elijah dropped to his knees beside her.

"Maya?" His voice cracked for the first time.

Her eyes fluttered open, just enough to see him.

"Elijah..." she whispered.

"I've got you," he said, lifting her into his arms. "I swear, you'll never be hurt again."

4:20 AM – HOSPITAL

Maya was rushed to a private VIP wing. Doctors moved fast. She had a concussion, bruised ribs, and signs of dehydration and physical trauma but she was stable.

Elijah sat at her bedside, blood still drying on his sleeves, watching the machines beep. Watching her breathe.

His jaw clenched. His fingers flexed over the armrest, digging into the leather. Every inhale was a silent war between rage and restraint. He said nothing, but his eyes cold and sharp held the weight of everything he refused to let spill.

That was Elijah Grant.

He didn't break. He calculated. And right now, his silence was far louder than any outburst.

Ray stepped in quietly.

"Sir... the man who took her. We have him. He's at the old warehouse. The team's... handling it."

Elijah stood slowly. His gaze remained on Maya for another beat, unreadable. Then, without a word, he walked out his presence as cold and precise as a sharpened blade.

5:12 AM – ABANDONED WAREHOUSE, SOUTH BERLIN

The concrete walls were stained with time, paint chipped, and iron beams groaning under the weight of silence. A single bulb flickered above the center of the room, casting shadows like broken glass.

The man was tied to a rusted chair, his wrists bleeding against the rope, his head slumped. His face bore the signature of the last two hours bruises blooming across his cheekbone, lip swollen, one eye barely open.

Footsteps echoed.

Elijah Grant appeared at the edge of the light, hands in his coat pockets, his expression unreadable. But his eyes they burned like frostbite. Quiet. Controlled. Lethal.

Behind him, his men stood still like statues, waiting for a command.

The man on the chair shivered.

Elijah stepped forward, slow, every movement deliberate. He tilted his head slightly, a hint of amusement curling on his lips, but there was nothing warm in it.

"Why have you done this to yourself?" Elijah's voice was smooth, sharp as glass. "Now I have no other choice but to hurt you."

He reached his hand out. One of his men immediately placed a gleaming knife in it.

Elijah turned the blade in his fingers, testing the edge. Then he leaned closer, and in a low, dangerous murmur, he said.

"No one hurts what's mine... except me."

The man's eyes widened just before Elijah took the knife and swiftly sliced off his pinky finger.

The muffled scream behind the tape was gut wrenching raw but choked by the cloth.

Blood hit the cold floor in heavy drops.

The man began to writhe, tears streaming down his face. His head jerked in frantic gestures desperate to speak.

Elijah, without blinking, raised two fingers. One of his men stepped forward and ripped the tape off.

The man gasped, sobbing from pain. "She scammed me!" he cried. "she... she ruined me she took everything! All my money.she lied . she decived me and she disappeared! he stutter as tears were streaming down his eyes "My wife left me because i became penniless! I searched everywhere. I just wanted her to pay. I wanted her to feel what I felt!"

Elijah's grip on the bloodied knife tightened. For a moment, his jaw tensed.

But then nothing. His expression went blank again, colder than before. He gave a short nod.

"Put the tape back." he instructed

The man's eyes widened again. "No, wait wait, I—"

Too late. Tape sealed his mouth again.

Elijah turned to Ray and muttered calmly, "Dispose him."

Without another glance, he walked away, cleaning the blood from his hands with the handkerchief handed to him. His stride was steady, untouched by the horror behind him.

But inside he was disturbed.

He didn't want to believe what the man said. Could Maya have done something like that? The Maya who stumbled over words? Who brought him coffee with a shy glance? Who had tears in her eyes when he held her in the hospital?

He stepped into the cold morning air. For the first time, Elijah Grant felt something he didn't often allow.

Doubt.