The sun barely peeked over the sky in the early morning. The summer warmth graced the Voltaire estate, reflecting golden light off the cobblestone building. In the estate's corner, this warmth did not reach. The dark and cold walls of the servant’s quarters had blocked it. There, Sabir abruptly woke up from his sound sleep. Something that had never happened before.

Sabir felt someone nudging him, pulling the blanket off his body. Sabir rubbed the sleep from his eyes, struggling to wake up. “What’s going on?” He mumbled while letting out a big yawn.

He had only just stirred when Warren, already dressed and looking far too awake, nudged him gently. “Get up,” Warren said, his voice low but firm. “We’ve got training.”

Sabir groaned, rolling onto his side to escape the intruding light from the small window. “Training?” he mumbled, still half-asleep. “Again?”

Warren nodded grimly. “Elektra doesn’t wait for anyone.”

Sabir knew Warren was right, but that didn’t make it any easier. Elektra had been relentless in the three days since they first fought. Every morning, she demanded they join her in the training room before dawn. Each day was the same brutal routine, and Sabir was feeling the strain.

Leaving the servants’ quarters, Sabir noticed the shocked expressions on the maids’ faces as they walked by. Their eyes widened at the sight of Warren, clearly surprised to see a Voltaire in this part of the estate. Even though Sabir could detect their curiosity, they said nothing and simply bowed their heads respectfully as the boys moved along.

“I still can’t believe she makes you do this every day,” Sabir said as they approached the training room. “And before breakfast too.”

It turned out, every single time Sabir was asleep, Warren had been sparring Elektra. That was why Warren was always awake before Sabir. Every time Warren would scramble to put a blanket over himself, he was trying to hide the bruises from the fighting. Sabir was shocked to see Warren’s body covered in a network of black markings from bruises.

Warren didn’t want Sabir to worry.

Sabir saw the way Warren winced slightly as he moved. “I still can’t believe she makes you do this every day,” Sabir tutted.

Warren shrugged. “She says it builds discipline,” though there was a hint of resignation in his tone.

“Well, at least we have breakfast to look forward to,” Sabir consoled as they walked. “You know, after we finish getting our asses handed to us.”

Warren shook his head. “Yeah, breakfast is gonna be great, but we’ll be fine.” His words were reassuring, but Sabir couldn’t ignore the strain in his friend’s voice.

Warren looked over to Sabir, his eyes narrowed as he analyzed him. “You know, you're probably the one who gets hurt the most, but your body…it seems completely fine. Even those injuries you had when you were in the torture- y’know, the room where we first met. Those injuries are all gone.”

This time it was Sabir’s turn to shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I heal faster than most.”

Warren wanted to argue with him and call him an idiot, if he thought sustaining such injuries and healing from them overnight was normal, but he was too tired and he needed to reserve energy for sparring, “Sure, whatever you say man,” he replied weakly.

They quickly arrived at the training room, a large space with tall ceilings and simple decor. Waiting with her arms crossed and an impatient expression, Elektra was already there when they arrived. Sabir felt a shiver run down his spine at the sight of her. He still couldn’t get a read on her. Her intentions were as unreadable as ever, and her demeanor was as cold as ice.

“Finally,” Elektra said, her voice cutting through the silence. “You’re on time. Now let’s get started.”

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There was no miracle today either, no matter how much Sabir prayed. Elektra didn’t hold back, treating him like a punching bag. Showing no mercy, she used her lethal kicks, aiming at his weak points with a sadistic satisfaction. Sabir had grown accustomed to the pain, knowing that his body would heal quickly. But Warren was making every effort to fight back. Because of his lack of instinct, he was an easy target for Elektra’s attacks, causing him to withstand her assaults.

“Focus, Warren,” Elektra snapped, as she landed a harsh blow that sent him sprawling to the floor. “You’ll never improve if you can’t even keep your footing.”

Sabir winced at the sight of Warren struggling to get back on his feet, but there was little he could do. Elektra’s attention quickly shifted back to him, and he dodged another series of blows, his mind racing to anticipate her next move. There was something unsettling about the way she fought, as if she were trying to provoke him, to force him to tap into some hidden reserve of strength that he simply didn’t have.

Even though Sabir was in physical agony, his mind persistently wandered back to the same troublesome ideas. The need to escape the estate. The problem wasn’t leaving the grounds. He could manage that easily enough. Yet, as soon as he left the premises, Sabir would find himself stranded in Sector 5, with no clear path forward, no established plan, and no allies to rely on. Taking that risk wasn’t something he could do casually.

He reassured himself that there was no pressure to hurry. Not yet. He still needed to meet Vincent. An unsettling suspicion had been developing within him about Vincent, something that had been growing steadily since he crossed paths with Elektra. Sabir had suspected that Vincent might be Cynthia’s lover. If that were true, it would mean that the Hounds’ theory about the Triads killing Cynthia wasn’t far-fetched after all. The idea sent a chill down his spine.

His fists clenched at the mere thought of Cynthia, a surge of resentment coursing through him, his jaw tightening in frustration. Saving Cinder Blaze, the potential mastermind behind his sister’s death, had been a mistake. He could see that now. But what could he do? The Triads had been his only lead, and now he was stuck in a web cast by the Voltaire family, trapped to their mercy.

Elektra halted his deep thoughts by striking his ribs with her fist, causing him to stumble backward in pain. Before he could catch his breath, she was already back on him, her onslaught showing no mercy. There were no words, only a silent display of ruthless and methodical brutality.

Sabir gritted his teeth and fought back, his movements becoming more desperate as he tried to keep up with her. The frustration of not being able to read her intentions gnawed at him. Why was she doing this? Was she testing him, or was this just her way of asserting dominance? Whatever the reason, Sabir didn’t want to see her have the satisfaction of seeing him break, so he threw wild haymakers anywhere he could. Unfortunately, she dispatched him once again and sent him back to his room, needing bandages.

The next few days passed in much the same way. Elektra would train Sabir and Warren rigorously, leaving them battered and bruised after early morning sessions, and then they would quietly tend to their wounds for the rest of the day. With each passing day, Sabir’s mind would only trail with thoughts of revenge and melancholy.

Escaping. Cynthia. Cassius. All of it weighed heavily on him. It was almost unbearable. Sabir simply felt lost.

Four more days passed till Warren had spoken abruptly, breaking the silence as they walked once again to the training hall. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, meeting Sabir’s gaze as he put his hand on his shoulder.

“We’re going out tomorrow,” Warren said.

Sabir raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden announcement. “Out? Where to?”

“We’re going to see my brother Vincent.”

A creeping sense of dread tainted Sabir’s anticipation. This was what he’d been waiting for, a chance to meet the man who might hold the answers he so desperately needed. But there was also a sense of foreboding, a feeling that this may shatter everything he thought to be true.

“What for?”

Warren didn’t elaborate. “You’ll see,” he said simply, before turning and continuing down the hallway.

Sabir watched him go, a knot of apprehension forming in his stomach. Whatever Vincent had to say, it was bound to change everything. But whether it would bring him closer to the truth or plunge him deeper into the darkness that surrounded the Voltaire family, he couldn’t say.

Trailing Warren to their room, Sabir’s mind echoed with a melancholic symphony of lost hopes and shattered dreams. He needed to be ready for whatever was coming next, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was heading into a trap of some kind.

Although he couldn’t get any sleep, the next morning arrived quickly. Sabir awoke to the now-familiar sight of Warren already dressed and ready to go. There was a tension in the air, a sense of purpose that he had missed. Sabir quickly got dressed, his curiosity gnawing at him from the inside.

They slipped out of the estate in silence, the early morning light stretching long shadows across the cold stone walls. This was the moment he had been waiting for, a brief, fragile taste of freedom. A sudden gust of wind whipped through the air, causing his suit to billow. The sensation was electric, a jolt of euphoria. Freedom.