A dingy hotel sat hidden away in the streets of Balas’ slums. The poor and the sick crowded the dirt streets, begging for any tiny food scraps from the man who passed. Not minding the gun or the limp man he was dragging. He kicked away a person, uncaring for their life as he walked into the hotel. The owner, an old, greasy looking man, froze as he saw the man walk in.

“Jonas!?” The old man shuttered. His face paling in horror.

“Give me a room.”

Without speaking more, the old man quickly grabbed a set of keys labeled with the room number 103 and threw it to Jonas. He caught the keys and headed to the rustic elevator with the unconscious man without giving the owner another glance. The owner went back to smoking as if nothing had happened, terrified of the consequences.  

Inside room 103, it was dimly lit, with only one lamp flickering softly. The lamp cast long, shivering shadows across the ugly wallpaper. The pealing paper shaded the light, making sharp shadows that grew along the walls like teeth. Minutes passed with groans and whispers breaking up the silence in the room. The other residents who passed ignored the sounds from within the room, hoping they wouldn’t become his next target.     

The air was thick, with the tingling smell of blood torturing his nose. Jonas, a hulking figure with a scar running down his face, towered over Dáinn. His cold eyes fixated on the man before him. Dáinn’s body was covered in fresh wounds, dark crimson blood stained the collar of his shirt. Blood dripped down his chin from wounds that scattered his face. Bruises had already formed on his skin, the purples and blacks painted across its pale canvas. He spat out the blood that had begun filling his mouth but refused to open his mouth for anything else.

Frustrated by Dáinn’s lack of response, he started pacing the room, grumbling. He turned away, running a hand through his greasy hair as he tried to think of a new approach. Dáinn exhaled deeply, his chest aching as it expanded. Although Jonas’ punches weren't that heavy, the amount still took a toll on his body.

“Oh, come on, is that all you got?” Dáinn mocked the man. “You’re nowhere close to getting me to talk.”

Jonas sneered. “Heh, I have plenty more up my sleeve to get you to talk.”

He cracked his knuckles, readying himself for another round of questioning. He raised a long knife, the metal glinting menacingly in the dim light. Dáinn tensed his body, bracing for the pain to come. A malicious grin spread across Jonas’ face, relishing in his power.

He drew in closer, hovering the blade over Dáinn’s thigh. “You'd make this so much easier if you'd just talk, you know,” his grin widened, turning his eyes into crescents. 

“Hm,” Dáinn hummed, acknowledging the man. “But of course, that wouldn't make it that much fun, would it?” Dáinn reflected Jonas’ smile.

Jonas frowned in response and plunged the knife deep into his thigh. Dáinn flinched at the pain, letting out a low groan. Crimson flowed slowly from the wound, dripping to the floor to gather in a puddle.

“What does your pretty employer have planned?” He sneered through clenched teeth.

“Not telling,” Dáinn croaked, his voice cracking from the pain.

Jonas’ eyes narrowed, and he twisted the knife still embedded in Dáinn’s thigh. Dáinn gritted his teeth, his face contorting as he fought to hold back another groan.

“You’re not going to make this easy, are you?” Jonas growled, pulling the knife out and raising it for another strike.

“Why should I?” Dáinn shot back, bloodshot eyes challenging him. “Isn’t that my job as a bodyguard to keep my mouth shut?”

Jonas burst out laughing. “I would've thought of all people you'd be smart enough to understand that keeping your mouth shut will only put you six feet under!”

He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, still chuckling as he looked down at him. “Do you really think that being a bodyguard gives you some sort of privilege?” he said, his voice filled with amusement.

Jonas raised the knife high above his head, ready to bring it down with force onto Dáinn's other thigh. But just as he's about to strike, the door to the hotel room bursted open. A figure stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the bright hallway light. Jonas’ laughter died in his throat as he turned to face the man. 

“Jonas, what the hell is going on here?!” A pot-belly man growled. Sweat dripped down his face, and he reeked of tobacco. His hair had almost completely turned grey, which receded from his forehead. Combed to the side in an effort to hide his bald head. A damn pitiful attempt at it. His shirt pulled out of his pants as he huffed, out of breath. 

‘Did he run all the way here? Who the hell even is this guy?’ Dáinn frowned.

Jonas sneered. “Chill, Balor. I'm only doing what the boss wanted.” He threw the knife onto the bed as he walked towards the overweight man. 

Balor slammed the door shut behind him. His face contorted into an ugly frown. “I told you to wait for me!”

“Wait for you? We don't have time for you to run off with your buddies and chat with them!” Jonas hissed, his voice echoing off the walls. “We don't have time to waste. The moment they notice him gone, it’s only a matter of time before they find us!”

Behind Jonas, a laugh rang out. “You should listen to him; it won't take all that much time to find me,” Dáinn snickered, a grin spreading across his face.

“You shut it!” Balor demanded. He grabbed the knife off the bed and stood in front of Dáinn.

Jonas stood next to Balor and snickered. “This is your last chance to tell us what Keva has planned to take over the company.” 

Balor pressed the tip of the knife against Dáinn's throat, a drop of blood forming where the metal met his skin. “Don't play games with us,” he growled. “We know Keva trusts you. You're his bodyguard, after all. You must know something.”

Dáinn’s smile twitched momentarily, but he quickly regained his composure. Dáinn’s gaze flickered between Jonas and Balor, his smile never faltering. “And if I still refuse?” Jonas’s grin turned into a snarl. “Then we’ll just have to cut it out of you,” Balor said. 

He grabbed Dáinn’s chin and lifted the end of the knife just above his eye. Dáinn stared at the tip glistened in the light. He knew that Jonas and Balor were desperate for information, but he’d been taught to never break under torture. He closed his eyes, steeling himself for the pain that was about to come. But before Balor could do anything, a loud bang echoed through the room as the door was kicked down. Several figures stood in the hallway, surrounding the doorway. Jonas and Balor turned to face the intruders, their eyes widening in surprise.

General Derrick Miller was the highest-ranked military officer in the Edwards family. Several other military officers surrounded the doorway.

Miller pointed a gun toward the two men while his gaze crossed Dáinn. “Step away from him or I’ll put a bullet through you.”

Jonas and Balor hesitated, their eyes darting between the gun pointed at them and Dáinn. Jonas slowly started to back away, his hands raised in surrender. Miller kept his gun steady, his eyes never leaving the two men. The other military officers began moving into the room. Balor stood his ground, still holding the knife above Dáinn’s eye.

“Balor, don’t be a fool!” Jonas hissed. “We can’t take on all of them at once.” Balor’s face twisted in anger, but he didn’t give in. An expression one could only describe as madness spread across his face. “Try it, I dare you! The moment you squeeze that trigger, I’ll put this blade so far in it'd pierce his brain!” His manic laugh echoed through the room.

Miller’s gaze never wavered, his finger hovering over the trigger. “Last chance, Balor. Step away from him now.”

Balor's laughter died in his throat as he stared down the barrel of his gun.

Miller and Balor stared at each other, refusing to move lest one of them get injured. Dáinn shifted his leg slightly, trying not to alert anyone in the room. The rope around his ankle loosened, letting him slip his foot out.

With a swift motion, Dáinn kicked Balor’s shoulder, sending the knife flying across the room. Balor’s eyes widened in shock, but before he could react, Miller moved forward, twisting his arms behind his back.

Dáinn sighed in relief, his body trembling from the pain and exhaustion. General Miller holstered his gun. The officers quickly followed his lead and moved in to secure both men with handcuffs. Miller approached Dáinn, his expression unreadable, and untied the ropes that bound Dáinn to the chair.

“Can you stand?” He spoke, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Dáinn nodded, taking a moment to steady his body before pushing himself onto his feet. The room spun, whirling in circles. Dáinn’s vision blurred for a bit before clearing up. His legs trembled as they held the weight of his body. The sudden movement caused more crimson blood to flow from the wound on his thigh. Before it could bleed any further, it was tightly bound in cloth that was slowly being dyed red.

Miller glanced at it before mumbling under his breath. “That will have to do for now. We’ll get you treated as soon as we get out of here.”  

“Mhm,” Dáinn barely could mumble, wincing as he put weight on his injured leg.

Miller motioned toward one of his officers, who quickly appeared by Dáinn’s side to support him. Together, Dáinn weakly walked toward the door. The other officers shifted out of the way, yanking Jonas and Balor out of the way. They glared at Dáinn, rage filling their glazes as he passed.

They stepped outside the room. Miller stopped a moment and turned to Dáinn.

“We need to get you to a safe location.” As he spoke, his eyes scanned the hallway for potential threats. “My men will take care of these two.” He nodded toward Jonas and Balor, who were being led away in handcuffs by two of his officers.

“One more thing before we go, did you give away any information?” Miller glared at Dáinn.

Dáinn grinned, “You still don't completely trust me, do you?”

“Answer the question.”

Dáinn turned away from him, using one of the officers as support. “No, of course not. Why the hell would I do that to the person who’s supposed to be my employer?”

Miller laughed. “It wouldn't be a first for you, would it? Betraying your employer.” 

Dáinn turned to look at him. “He deserved it.” Dáinn shut his mouth and refused to speak further.

Miller let out a heavy sigh. “That doesn't matter now. Keva is downstairs waiting for you. You better be glad he cares for you so much.”

Dáinn's eyes widened in shock. ‘What the hell is he doing here?’

Miller led the way down the hallway. The adrenaline and pain that had been the chains to Dáinn’s consciousness began slowly fading, only to leave him feeling weak and shaky.

The officer supporting Dáinn kept a firm grip on his arm, helping to keep Dáinn steady as they made their way down the hall.

Sounds of footsteps echoed through the empty hallway, the urgency weighing heavily on everyone. General Miller led the way, his eyes constantly scanning the area for potential threats. Dáinn could only barely make out the concern etched on his face. ‘Probably concerned for Ev. After all, he is the successor to the company. He doesn't trust me one bit. Eh, Ev can solve all this on his own.’

Miller pressed the down button to the hotel elevator. The doors open with a ding, revealing the sterile interior.

Dáinn stepped into the elevator, moving away from the officer to lean against one of the walls. Miller stood beside him, his arms crossed, keeping a watchful eye on Dáinn. ‘You don't have to stare at me so intently. I'm not going anywhere. Not like I could anyways.’ He turned his head away, hoping he’d focus on something else, but the burning sensation on his neck told him otherwise.

The doors closed with a soft hum, and the elevator began its descent. The silence in the elevator was heavy, broken only by the soft hum of the machinery. Soon, the elevator dinged, hitting the bottom floor. The doors opened, revealing a group of military officers and the hotel owner, who was cuffed, crowding the lobby. In the middle of the crowd stood a blonde-haired noble whose soft facial features appeared blank, uncaring of the current situation. But his emerald eyes betrayed his expression. They darted around, hoping to catch sight of a very special person alive and well. And when their wish was granted, albeit that special person was banged up, he was alive. 

Keva resisted the urge to run to him. Instead, he nodded toward Miller and directed the officers to take Dáinn to a hospital. Only then would he express his relief there, in the privacy of the room. For now, he was glad he had made it in time.