~Waverly~
"We're dead, Wave. We're actually, physically, statistically dead," Pia was hyperventilating in the back of my skull. "First the supervisor, now the Debtors? The universe is sending us a funeral invitation."
I didn't have the breath to argue. My heart was thudding faster than I could catch up with. I stood in the center of the shack, my fingers dug into the fabric of Leah's sleeve.
The door had been mercilessly broken down. The wood was splattered across the linoleum like shrapnel. Three men, built like brick walls and smelling of stale tobacco and cheap rotgut, stood in the wreckage. These were Syndicate Enforcers—the kind of men who took you to the incinerator instead of silly legal battles.
"Three months, Drodd," the lead man growled, kicking a plastic chair across the room. It shattered against the wall. "You've been dodging the Boss's calls. You've been dodging the collection bins. Do you think interest just stops because you're poor?"
Drodd was trembling so hard he looked like he was having a seizure. He was backed into the corner near the flickering TV.
"No! No, sir, please!"
Alex… my "big, strong" foster brother, had already vanished. I could see the tip of his sneakers poking out from under the couch. The coward.
Tasha's scream was a high-pitched, useless sound that only made the men angrier.
"We don't have the money!" Imogen wailed, clutching her throat. "The boutique... the investment failed! We just need another week!"
"The Boss doesn't trade in weeks. He trades in flesh," the man sneered.
I gulped down, knowing that at the end of this was a terrible fate for me. Drodd and Imogen had a way of taking out their aggressions on me.
The man's eyes scanned the room. They landed on Tasha, then on Leah and me. "As compensation for your negligence, we'll take one of the daughters. She'll work off the interest in the Red District. Pick one, or we take all three and burn the shack with you inside."
My blood ran cold. "Run, Wave. Jump out the window. Go!" Pia screamed.
But I couldn't move. I felt Leah's hand shaking in mine.
"Take her!" Imogen screeched without a second thought, pointing a shaking finger directly at me. "Take Waverly! She's not ours anyway! She's just a stray! She's young, she's... she's healthy! Take her and leave our Tasha alone!"
"Mom!" Leah gasped, eyes bulging. "You can't—she's our sister!"
"Shut up, Leah! She's a useless brat who does nothing but bring trouble! Look at her dress—she's probably been out selling herself anyway! Take her! She'll satisfy a whole squad of your men before the sun comes up!" Drodd barked.
The lead debtor laughed, irking me. But he didn't move toward me. He looked at Tasha, who was wearing a crop top and expensive leggings, probably bought with the money they owed the Syndicate.
"The stray looks like she's been through a thresher," the man said, gesturing to my blood-stained, dirt-caked dress. "But this one? This one looks like she's been eating well on the Boss's dime."
Tasha shrieked as he grabbed her by the hair and began dragging her toward the door.
"No! Not Tasha! Please!" Imogen was on her knees now, begging, yet still pointing at me. "Take Waverly! Take the orphan! She's a whore anyway! She fucked a miner today! Just take her!"
My head suddenly felt lighter at the accusations. Like they didn't try to sell my body to the pig she claimed I 'fucked' without my consent. And now, they were throwing me to the wolves. Literally.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you and nobody is taking anyone here."
Unexpectedly, a voice came from the darkness outside,. It was smoothly deep and carried a weight that made the air in the room suddenly feel twice as heavy.
Pia's hysteria was suddenly replaced by a tingling focus. "The scent. Wave... that smells like the Palace. That smells like... Him."
No way, I thought, my brain scrambling. The Prince? In the shacks? In a hoodie? I'm hallucinating from the blood loss.
The debtors froze. The man holding Tasha turned with a curling lip. "And who the hell are you? Get lost, hero, before I pull your lungs out through your nose."
"I'm someone who hates to see men bully women," the voice replied, closer now. "And I'm someone who has very little patience for debt collectors who work for a two-bit Syndicate."
"You got a death wish, kid?" The other two thugs stepped outside, their shadows looming large against the flickering orange trash fires.
"Waverly, stay here," Leah whispered, but curiosity and the desperate hope that this wasn't a dream, pushed me forward.
We stumbled toward the broken doorway, leaning against the jagged frame. Outside, the neighborhood was a sea of hollowing eyes. In the center of the muddy street stood two men. One was older, broader, and stood still. The other was tall, slim but packed with lean, explosive muscle. He wore a baseball cap pulled low, but the way he stood—shoulders back, chin up—screamed royalty.
"Kill him," the lead thug barked.
The escalation was cinematic. It was more than a fight. It was a darn massacre.
The tall man moved effortlessly. When the first thug swung a rusted pipe, the stranger wasn't there anymore. He vanished into the shadows and reappeared behind the man, his hand striking the back of the thug's neck with a sound like a gunshot.
The thug folded instantly.
The older man was a beast. He caught the second thug's punch mid-air and simply... twisted it. The scream that followed was enough to wake the dead.
The stranger in the hoodie stepped toward the lead man, who was still clutching Tasha. In the scuffle, a stray hand swiped at the stranger's head. The baseball cap flew off.
The moonlight hit his face.
"Holy... Moon... Goddess," Pia choked out.
I stopped breathing. My heart did a backflip and died. It was really him.
Prince Kaeren.
The sharp, aristocratic jawline. The eyes that looked like molten gold in the dark. The sheer, terrifying beauty that didn't belong in a place where the air tasted like coal and rot.
Why? Why is he here? My mind raced through a thousand terrifying possibilities. The Supervisor. He found out. He's here to execute me personally. No, wait... maybe he's here to arrest the foster parents? No, he's looking at me.
Beside me, Leah let out a soft, audible gasp. "Oh my god... he's beautiful. Wave, who is that? He looks like a literal god."
The lead debtor didn't care about beauty. He saw his men down and his payday disappearing. He dropped Tasha and pulled a jagged knife from his belt. "I'll gut you, you High Class prick!"
WHAT? A weapon?!