Frederick edged closer to Sabir. With each footstep, Sabir felt a tightening on his neck, as if the very air threatened to strangle him. It took all the willpower he had to take even a single breath in Frederick’s presence. The singular light source from outside the cell reflected Frederick’s blade, causing him to squint. His heart raced. He pressed himself further against the wall, his legs trembling, unable to muster the strength to move.

Had he heard correctly, did this old man truly kill his sister? Then what about Vincent? Did he lie? Was he trying to protect the true killer? The number of questions flooding his mind dazed him. All he could do was stand idly by, at the mercy of Cynthia’s potential killer.

As if on cue, Frederick spoke in a low voice, seething with contempt. “That lowly woman should have known better. She thought she could be among nobles. Please.” His hand tightened on the hilt of his knife. “Now her only family shall join her for her transgressions.”

His words sparked all the emotion buried behind the fear. Sabir let out a guttural scream, his jaw clenched tight. He banged his fist against the wall behind him. Spittle flinging out of his mouth as he spoke, his eyes bulging with an intense fury. “You killed her? YOU KILLED HER!”

“Yes, I did. Did you really think Vincent had the mettle to kill a pretty woman?” Frederick admitted calmly, raising the knife up into the air, ready to be plunged into Sabir’s chest. But before Sabir could even a voice cut away all the tension.

“Stand down, Frederick.”

Frederick turned back, his frame covered the figure that stood in front of the cell. But Sabir knew who it was, just based on the voice alone. Elektra.

She stood by the doorway, her silhouette framed by the dim light spilling into the cell. Her presence, though slender and graceful, exuded authority. She looked expectantly at Frederick, watching him frozen mid strike. Frederick trembled with rage, having been told to stand down, yet he didn’t yield yet. He quickly brought the knife to Sabir’s neck. A small trail of dark blood leaked out.

“Why must you protect him, Lady Elektra? Perhaps you’ve also become attached to filth?” said Frederick.

Elektra sighed at being tested. When would it end? She stepped forward into the cell, the door still opened. “No. Far from it, in fact. They’re needed,” she said, placing her hands on her hips. “Both Quinn and my gopher–I mean Zabo. You know I’m taking part in a dungeon raid. The expedition into the dungeon requires bodies. Whether they live or die in the process is irrelevant, but for now, they serve a purpose. They’re the only ones fit for such a dispensable role.”

Frederick’s lip curled in disgust, though he did not hide it. “You wish to use these disgusting lower beings? Sabir Quinn’s blood is a stain. It’s already tarnished this family once. It will do so again.”

Sabir couldn’t believe what he was hearing, a murderer calling him disgusting. What a sick joke. He tried to quell the rage that boiled like lava. He just about stifled the words he wanted to scream. Remaining silent, his mind raced. Sabir didn’t even know the old coot, and he created a whole villainous backstory. He was a lunatic. A fanatic.

“That’s enough,” Elektra snapped, stepping on Zabo’s chest, who lay by her feet. “This isn’t about bloodlines or vendettas. Personal feelings won’t interfere with the mission. If Sabir dies, then so be it, but it will be during the expedition, not by your hand tonight. If he lives, he’ll be all yours.”

Zabo stood frozen like a statue. No unnecessary movement here, he thought, trying hard not to bring attention to himself, even with Elektra’s foot on his chest. His exchange with Noah still weighed heavily on him and he didn’t want to get into more hot water with another Voltaire. Especially someone like Elektra, who was fiery at best. Trying to calm his beating heart, he felt his wound tingle slightly. What’s going on with me? Zabo questioned, sweat dripping down his back.

Frederick’s fingers flexed around the hilt of his blade, a brief flash of anger crossing his face before he quickly masked it. “People like him are a virus. His mindset will spread and threaten the family,” he growled. “I remember how she nearly brought us to ruin that boy’s damn sister. Although it brought me great joy when I put an end to it, when I shot that poison dart through the trucker’s window. How joyful it was seeing her all bloody. My only regret is that I didn’t kill the bastard as well. And the genius of the poison, to think The Hound thought it was The Triads.”

Sabir gritted his teeth as he watched Frederick relish the memory of murdering his sister. A chill crawled down his spine, the man’s hatred almost palpable. His sister, the one who had once cared for him, the one who had left him that pass to enter Havana. That was how she died in the end? To a poison dart?

Elektra, remaining unmoved by Frederick’s tirade, spoke again, her tone calm. “We all make sacrifices for the greater good. I want to kill the kid as much as you do, but in this case, irrelevant. I need them for the expedition because they are expendable. Unlike you, unlike me, they are replaceable. Zabo may be a student of the academy, but he has no one behind him, no investors. And Sabir...” She glanced at the heap that was Zabo, tied to the ground in a pathetic state, and continued, “Well, he’s only a dud. A useful one, for now.”

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Frederick’s role as the head butler did not exceed the authority of an heir, openly crossing Elektra would defy the Voltaire laws. Tutting his tongue, he lowered his blade completely, with the rage still seething beneath his skin. “Very well,” he said, enunciating every syllable, “but mark my words. Once the expedition is done, his life will be forfeit unless he proves his worth.” He masked his smile well enough. He knew he simply had to talk to his master and be given the order to kill him. But for now, he’d have to wait.

Sabir swallowed hard, his mind swirling with thoughts of survival. He wasn’t naïve enough to believe Elektra’s intervention was out of mercy. He was nothing more than a pawn, a disposable asset. The looming threat of the dungeon expedition weighed on him. What did they need a dud for exactly?

“You’re lucky,” Elektra said, her eyes shifting to Sabir, her gaze cold. “You get to live just a little while longer. But make no mistake. If you fail to serve your purpose, Frederick will get his chance.”

Sabir nodded in silence, his body shuddering, while he came up slowly to his feet. Although the blade was gone, he felt Frederick’s stony gaze, as if Frederick would plunge it deep at any second, killing him in cold blood if allowed.

In the doorway's shadow, Warren stood quietly, watching the entire exchange unfold. His face was pale, his expression conflicted. He promised himself he’d help Sabir. He couldn’t stand by and watch Frederick kill the boy, not like this.

Frederick, catching sight of Warren in the doorway, narrowed his eyes. He sneered, recognizing the fear in the young man. Warren flinched, stepping back slightly but not retreating completely. Frederick’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before he stormed out of the room, his boots echoing ominously against the stone floor. His last glare at Sabir promised that this wasn’t over.

The moment Frederick left, Zabo groaned in pain. His wound he gained from Noah’s last attack in Tetra City began bleeding again. Whatever that doctor gave him at the lab wore off. His wound had reopened, and he was bleeding profusely. Sabir rushed to his side, kneeling to check on him. Zabo’s skin was pale, sweat glistening on his forehead. The heavy chains and weights tied to him made it impossible for him to move.

“You might want to hurry,” Elektra said, her gaze fixed on Sabir. “If Zabo dies, it’s on you. His health is your responsibility now. And Warren’s.”

She raised her voice. “Warren! Stop hiding in the shadows and come in here.”

Warren stepped hesitantly into the room, his eyes fixed on Zabo, filled with concern. He avoided Elektra’s gaze as he rushed toward Sabir and Zabo, his hands shivering.

“Help them,” Elektra ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Get Zabo out of here. And make sure the maids help remove some of those weights before he collapses completely.”

Warren stiffened at Elektra’s command. He turned towards her, pointing his finger at her. He squared his shoulders, his voice unsteady but resolute. “I’m going to help them, Elektra. But not because you told me to. It’s because I want to. Someone has to look out for them.” Jutting his jaw, his hands still trembled slightly as he bent down to support Zabo.

Elektra raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. She smirked, her brother’s defiance only entertaining her. “Whatever makes you feel better, pussy,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Just get it done and stop wasting my time.” Without sparing him another glance, she turned away, her attention already shifting elsewhere.

Before stepping through the doorway, Elektra paused, casting a last glance over her shoulder. “Prepare for the dungeon expedition. Make sure they’ve had a meal and some fresh clothes. That’s all three of you, by the way. We will leave soon.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned and strode out, leaving the trio alone in the cell.

Warren knelt beside Zabo, he winced surveying Zabo’s condition, as he hooked an arm beneath the man’s shoulders. Sabir moved to the other side, but they hesitated, their eyes shifting to the iron balls still bound to Zabo’s chains, weighing him down. A pair of maids scurried in as Elektra had commanded, their hands deftly untying the heavy iron orbs from Zabo’s legs.

Once the final weight clattered to the ground, Sabir and Warren lifted him to his feet. Zabo’s body still sagged between them, his head lolling, barely conscious, though his breaths now came a little easier without the crushing burden of the weights. The maids backed away silently, leaving the three of them to stumble forward, each step a painful reminder of how close to the edge they all were.

“Hold on, Zabo,” Sabir whispered, though the way Zabo’s head hung limply made his heart race with uncertainty. He tried to sound reassuring, but doubt gnawed at him, an icy fear creeping up his spine. As they dragged Zabo forward, with the long chains tied to his arms trailing behind them. Sabir couldn’t help but wonder if any of them would survive the expedition. Zabo’s labored breaths reminded Sabir of their fragility; a grim realization settled in his stomach: they were taking him to a dungeon to be a meat shield. Not just him, but Zabo, too.

“Hold on, Zabo,” Sabir murmured. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”

But deep down, he wasn’t sure he believed it. The expedition felt like a death sentence, and every moment that passed brought them closer to it. Sabir clenched his fists, steeling his resolve. He would not die here, not without a fight. I will not be a part of these damn games Elektra, I’ll escape, just you wait.

Escape? Sabir gritted his teeth. Had he given up on revenge and all he sought now was survival? His sister’s true killer had revealed himself. Frederick. That old man, a demon filled with malice. Would he just allow him to get away with it all? Frederick, you’ll be the one to die first. Sabir promised to himself.

As they stumbled out of the cell, Sabir had made up his mind. He was going to use this opportunity of false freedom to the fullest. He may not know when he’d die, but when that time comes, the Voltaire’s will suffer alongside him.