Cindy and her father, Warma, had gone ho, both of them doing everything they could think of to find answers.
Cindy had practically blown up her phone, sending ssage after ssage, scrolling through her contacts and texting nearly the entire school. Has anyone seen Abby? Did anyone hear from her?
Most people replied. So didn’t know anything, others gave useless guesses, but at least they answered. All except one person, Max.
His silence lingered like a stone in her stomach, but she didn’t have the ti to dwell on why he wasn’t responding. Right now, she wasn’t looking for explanations, she just wanted to know what had happened to her best friend.
anwhile, Warma had been fighting his own desperate battle for information. He’d called Aron, a man he trusted to handle dangerous situations. If anyone could do sothing, maybe Max and Aron together could.
Surprisingly, Aron had already known about everything going on. But Max... Max was in a hospital bed.
That detail alone made Warma’s chest tighten. Whatever this was, it was dangerous, dangerous enough that he decided not to tell Cindy anything yet. Better to keep her away from it for as long as possible.
Eventually, though, the call ca. Warma’s phone lit up and buzzed in his hand.
He answered upstairs, away from Cindy, who sat slouched at the dining table downstairs, her phone in her hands, her mood heavy as stone.
"I see... I... I understand," Warma said into the phone, his voice quiet and strained. "You can’t share anything else beyond this, can you?"
On the other end, Detective Marvin spoke.
"I’m breaking the rules just by telling you this," Marvin admitted. "In situations like these, everyone’s a suspect, your daughter, you, everyone. Normally, no details are allowed out. But... I’ve got a knack for keeping track of things. And seeing how distraught your daughter was... I thought she deserved an answer."
And with that, the call ended.
Warma stayed frozen for a mont, the phone heavy in his hand. Then he started down the stairs.
Each step felt heavier than the last, as though his legs were made of lead. His chest ached, his heart sinking lower and lower into the pit of his stomach.
He reached the kitchen doorway. Cindy was still there, her head resting on her folded arms, eyes locked on her phone, waiting for a ssage that wasn’t coming.
"Cindy..." Warma’s voice broke before he could say more. "I just got off the phone with the detective. I... I..."
The mont she saw his face, Cindy’s eyes filled. The tears ca fast, and then the sound, ragged, loud, uncontrollable.
"No! No, no, NO!" she scread, the cry tearing through the house. "NOOO!"
Her voice cracked, her hands clutching at the table as though she could hold onto sothing solid before the world collapsed completely around her.
Warma pulled a chair close and sat right beside her. Without saying a word, he let Cindy’s head fall against his chest. His arms closed around her, holding her steady as the sobs shook her shoulders. The tears didn’t stop, and he didn’t try to stop them, he just stayed there, a quiet wall for her to lean on while her world cracked apart.
By the ti the sun had risen, miles away at the Pit, Sandra was keeping a close watch on Chad.
He was tied up, wrists bound, ankles secured, but his mouth was as free, and as loud, as ever. She’d brought him so water, and as usual, the mont she stepped close, he started up again.
"When are you people going to take to your boss?" Chad barked, his voice carrying through the concrete room. "You think treating like this is going to help? You’re making a big mistake, you’re ruining our future relationship!"
"Will you just shut up already?" Sandra snapped. Instead of handing him the rest of the water, she tilted the bottle and dumped it over his head. Cold droplets stread down his hair and face. "We told you a hundred tis, Wolf is our leader. I don’t know what you’re talking about."
Chad narrowed his eyes. The answer rang hollow, fake. Lies. He’d seen that man they called Wolf wearing a Bloodline jacket, a piece none of the others here wore. And Wolf himself had said he’d take Chad to see "the boss" eventually.
Yet here he was, still stuck in this place.
Days had blurred together into one long stretch of stale air and scraps for food. Chad was starting to wonder which fate was worse: working under the Rejected Corps, getting captured by the Black Hounds, or rotting away like this.
At least he wasn’t dead. That thought was the thin thread keeping him calm. As long as he was alive, he had options. If he had options, he could still make a move.
Sandra was about to let him have it again, already gearing up to fire back at his grumbling about the water, when the sound of voices outside interrupted.
"Ah, it’s Wolf! He’s back!"
"Yeah... he’s actually back... holy crap!"
"What the...?"
The reaction from the Pit mbers was genuine shock, and Sandra understood why the mont she turned toward the entrance.
Wolf walked in, but it wasn’t the Wolf they were used to seeing. His steps were uneven, a limp slowing his stride. Both of his arms were wrapped in bandages, bruises mottled his face, and even part of his head was swathed in white gauze.
They had seen Wolf injured before, he’d taken his share of blows and bruises in the past, but never like this. Never this badly.
Sandra hurried over without hesitation, slipping an arm under his shoulder to steady him. His weight leaned heavily against her as she guided him to the sofa, her movents careful but quick. Once she eased him down, she finally got a proper look at him.
That was when she noticed sothing more unsettling than the bruises, bandages, or limp.
It was his eyes.
They were dull, vacant, almost lifeless. The fierce, calculating glint that usually burned there was gone. It was as if whatever had happened to him had reached deeper than flesh and bone, it had touched sothing inside.
Sandra’s mouth opened, ready to ask what had happened, but the mont didn’t feel right. The air around him was heavy, and before she could speak, Wolf’s phone buzzed in his pocket.
He pulled it out, answered without much expression, and spoke a single word. "Alright."
Ending the call, he turned his head toward Chad, who was still bound, watching with a mix of confusion and interest.
"It’s ti," Wolf said, his voice low but steady. "It’s ti for you to et the boss of our group. He’s awake."
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