Sabir let out a groan. Moments of awareness slipped in and out like a dimming light as he hovered near consciousness. Every part of him throbbed with discomfort. It hit him hard, like an awful hangover, pulling him from the comforting shadows of oblivion into the harshness of what was around him. The chilling, moist air stung his senses as he gasped for breath. Each inhale brought a sharp pang of pain.

His chest felt as if it were being compressed, reminiscent of an ineffective acupuncture treatment. The faint illumination scarcely lit the area surrounding him, yet he sensed that blood had congealed and hardened upon his previously unblemished skin.

As dread enveloped him, Sabir came to the grim realization that he couldn’t move. It dawned on him that his shackled arms and legs were bound by an unyielding force. The cold links of the chain dug into his skin, their oppressive weight anchoring him to the ground.

A surge of anxiety ignited within him, yet he stifled it, inhaling a trembling breath. He quickly blinked, attempting to dispel the fog that blurred his sight, urging his environment to sharpen. The faint illumination streaming through the narrow, barred window overhead unveiled a confined, stifling area—a prison cell.

The damp stone surfaces glistened, while the ground he stood on was solid and unyielding, every fissure and gap laden with decades of filth.

With clarity returning to his mind, Sabir scanned the confines of the cell, hoping for something recognizable or reassuring. Instead, he met nothing but darkness and stillness, broken only by the sporadic sound of dripping water echoing faintly. His heart raced, a frantic beat fueled by terror and uncertainty.

He attempted to move once more, probing the boundaries of his bindings, but the shackles remained unyielding. Every struggle ignited a wave of agony throughout his injured form, the coarse links digging into the welts and scrapes that adorned him. He understood that intense fire had scorched his skin, creating charred spots where no healthy flesh remained—consequences of the tormenting force he had faced prior to losing consciousness.

With every motion, the scorched skin fissured, unleashing new pangs of agony within him, while the scent of singed flesh hung lightly in the air.

Sabir let out a sharp breath, teeth clenched to stifle any noise. Every muscle in his body protested, amplifying the pounding ache in his skull. He felt as if he had been through a battle, a collage of wounds rendering him nearly incapacitated.

Sabir’s thoughts whirled in confusion, attempting to understand how he found himself in this situation. The last memory that stood out was the turmoil of the fight, how he had leaped to shield Cinder from Cassius. He recalled the dazzling burst of power and the sharp agony as he absorbed the blow intended for Cinder.

However, following that moment, it all became indistinct—a fragmented collection of sights and feelings that wouldn’t merge into a clear recollection.

He sensed the sharp pain of lacerations on his arms, the tenderness of his flesh where the restraints scraped against fresh injuries. Discolored patches spread over his body, each marking a testament to the brutality he had suffered. Yet what filled him with dread was the singed skin. The burns were beyond the surface; they penetrated deeply, with some areas swollen, while others fissured and oozing as the skin tore apart.

His whole being resembled a war zone, the remnants of a conflict he struggled to remember.

Sabir felt a tightening in his chest as he attempted to move once more, his body shaking with the effort. He was aware that saving his strength was crucial, but the intense urge to comprehend his situation, to regain a sense of mastery, compelled him to endure the agony. The faint sound of chains echoed with each shift, a persistent signal of his imprisonment.

The harder he attempted to shift, the louder his body reacted with distress. He felt as if someone had beaten him nearly to death. In truth, he might have been. Each part of him pulsed with discomfort, a cacophony of contusions, cuts, and scorches that rendered it nearly unfeasible to concentrate on anything aside from the torment surging within him.

He struggled to keep his composure, even as anxiety clawed at the corners of his thoughts. What was the purpose of his continued existence? There must be a justification for why he was still here, yet despite all his pondering, no reason surfaced in his mind.

Did he misjudge the hunters? Not at all. If they chose to, they could end his life in an instant. Erasing all evidence of his existence. Yet, here he was, still breathing.

As the haze that had tightly wrapped around his thoughts gradually dissipated, Sabir grew increasingly conscious of his environment. The stillness was suffocating, a silence that penetrated his mind and magnified even the faintest noises.

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It was so silent that Sabir found himself picturing sounds.

His breath came in ragged gasps, bouncing off the cold stone surfaces, blending with the far-off sound of dripping water that felt as though it ridiculed his situation.

He scanned the cell again, concentrating as best as he could. The walls were stark, except for some deep scratches in the stone, remnants of earlier captives desperately trying to escape. The stones themselves seemed to have soaked up the anguish of numerous beings who had once been confined here, filling the room with a thick atmosphere of hopelessness.

Sabir shut his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply. He required clarity, a way to recall the events and their significance. Yet, the suffering muddled his mind, with every pulse bringing a new surge of torment throughout his form.

The pain from the bruises radiated through him, the icy air made his cuts sting sharply, and the burns pulsed intensely, highlighting just how outmatched he was compared to the Espers.

As Sabir reopened his eyes, he sought to latch onto something—anything—that might restore his identity. Instead, his eyes met with an all-consuming void. Bound and shackled like a beast, bewildered about the fate of his companions and puzzled by the condition of his battered body.

He started to listen to the clinking of metal links nearby.

“Max? Sam?” he rasped, his voice rough and weak. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. Every part of his body bore some kind of injury.

“Sabir, you’re awake!” Samantha’s voice, tinged with relief, reached his ears. Huddled in a corner of the cell with Max, both of them appearing relatively unscathed compared to him. Max nodded, his face set in a grim expression as he sat beside her.

“What happened? How did I end up like this?” Sabir’s eyes darted over the mottled bruises that covered his arms, his mind struggling to piece together the fragmented memories. The last thing he could recall was stopping Cassius from killing Cinder. Beyond that, it was all a blur, a painful void.

“You... you saved Cinder,” Max said quietly, his voice laden with a mixture of admiration and frustration. “Elektra Voltaire appeared out of nowhere and went for you. After that, we don’t know what happened. They didn’t even bother healing you, just threw you in here with us like we’re animals.”

Sabir frowned.

He still couldn’t understand why he did it.

The reality of what he had done stabbed at his conscience. He should have let them kill each other, two enemies at each other’s throats, eliminating themselves from his life. Something had driven him to intervene. There were still unanswered questions, a web of deceit and secrets that he desperately needed to understand. “I couldn’t just let them die, not yet. There were too many questions left unanswered.”

The Triads had answers. He needed to find them.

Max clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. “This... this is why I wanted to become a detective. To stop corruption like this from happening. But it’s all over now we’re criminals” His voice trembled, the weight of their situation crashing down on him. “We didn’t do anything wrong, Sabir! They had no right to do this to us!” His eyes welled up with tears, his resolve breaking as the reality of their predicament sank in.

Samantha’s shoulders began to shake, silent tears streaming down her face. The hopelessness in the air was palpable, each of them grappling with the fear that they might not make it out alive. “Sabir... I don’t want to die,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her sobs.

A pang of guilt struck Sabir, his heart heavy with regret. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “This is my fault. If I hadn’t—”

Max cut him off, his voice harsh, but not without compassion. “Yeah, it is your fault,” he admitted, his gaze locking onto Sabir’s. “But I can’t hate you for it. You did what you thought was right. That’s why we’re here. That’s why we’re all in this mess.”

Samantha looked up, her eyes wide with fear and uncertainty. “What are we going to do? How do we get out of here?”

Sabir forced a small, reassuring smile, though it felt hollow. “We’ll find a way out. I promise. Just... don’t lose hope.”

As if on cue, the door to their cell creaked open, revealing a tall figure in the dim light. Noah, flanked by several of his men in their distinctive blue long blazers with white trimmings, stepped inside. His cold, calculating gaze swept over the three of them before settling on Sabir. “They’ve decided to move you, Sabir,” Noah announced, his voice devoid of any emotion. “You’re being transferred to Sector 5 with the Voltaire family.”

A shiver ran down Sabir’s spine. The Voltaire family were plotting something, but what? He didn’t have the full picture yet, but the pieces were slowly building in his mind. He needed more time, more information.

Sabir took a deep breath, steadying himself. “I’ll go willingly,” he said, his voice firm. “But on one condition. You let Samantha and Max go. Clear their records, make sure they walk free without any charges hanging over their heads.”

Noah’s eyes narrowed, considering the proposition. He glanced at the guards, then back at Sabir. “And what assurance do I have that you won’t cause trouble?”

Sabir met his gaze with steely determination. “I’ll do and say whatever you want. Just let them go.”

A heavy stillness filled the air until Noah gave a slight nod. “Very well.” He signaled to the guards, who moved in to release Sabir from his restraints. Once the chains clattered to the ground, Sabir’s knees gave way, the agony nearly overwhelming. Two guards grabbed him forcefully, pulling him toward the exit.

Max and Samantha surged forward, their voices frantic. “Sabir! No!” they cried in unison, reaching out as if to pull him back.

Sabir glanced over his shoulder, his heart clenching at the sight of their tear-streaked faces. “Don’t worry about me,” he said, his voice soft but resolute. “Forget about me and live your lives.”

As Noah guided them from the cell, the door slammed shut behind, cutting off his companions’ desperate calls. Sabir braced himself for what lay ahead in Sector 5. The truths he longed for felt just within reach. Yet, would he survive long enough to act on them?