The group huddled around the fallen slave, his body sprawled across the damp, uneven ground of the cavern floor. His blood pooled beneath him, seeping into the cracks, as his gasps for air grew weaker. The once-frantic thundering of their footsteps and the feral's roars had been replaced by the oppressive sound of the slave's labored breathing and the distant echoes of dripping water.

Elias knelt beside the man, his hands trembling as he tried to press a cloth to the wound, but the crimson torrent refused to abate. "We can save him," Elias whispered, his voice cracking. His eyes darted to Luke. "We have to try!"

Luke stood back, his expression cold and distant, his shadow cast long across the cave by the flickering torchlight. The dark circles under his eyes and the taut set of his jaw betrayed his exhaustion, but his voice was calm and unyielding. "He's already gone."

Elias snapped his head toward him. "How can you say that? He's one of us!"

Luke's gaze bore into Elias, the weight of his words crushing. "And because he's one of us, we owe him dignity. Not suffering."

The fallen slave coughed weakly, crimson bubbles frothing at his lips. His wide, tear-filled eyes locked onto Luke as his trembling hand reached upward, grasping at nothing.

Luke knelt beside him, his movements measured. The dying man's breaths came in shallow, gurgling bursts, each one weaker than the last. Luke gently brushed Elias's hand away and leaned in close. "What's your number?"

The man hesitated, his voice barely a whisper. "Twenty... twenty-three..."

Luke's expression didn't waver. "Not your number. Your name. What's your name?"

The dying man blinked, his lips parting as if to speak, but hesitation clung to him like the darkness of the cave.

"Your name," Luke repeated, his voice softer now. "Tell me your name so l can remember you as you were—not as they made you."

A faint smile flickered across the man's face.

"R-Ryan..."

Luke nodded, his gaze steady. "Ryan, you're free. No more numbers, no more chains. I swear I'll remember you."

Ryan's weak smile faded, and his eyes glazed over with resignation. Luke pulled one of the wooden spikes from his belt, its sharp point splintered and bloodied from the earlier fight.

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Without hesitation, he placed the tip against Ryan's chest. "I'll make it quick."

Ryan's lips moved faintly, but no sound came out. A final breath rattled in his throat as Luke plunged the spike into his chest, straight to the heart. Blood spurted in a violent arc, splashing across Luke's hands and staining his shirt. Ryan's body jolted once, then stilled, his features frozen in a serene finality.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Elias staggered back, his face pale and streaked with tears. "You didn't have to—"

"I did," Luke interrupted sharply, his voice like steel. He turned to the rest of the group, who stared at him in stunned horror. "This is what it takes to survive. Every step we take, we lose more of us. But we're still here. We're still breathing. We're so close now, and we owe it to Ryan, to everyone we've lost, to keep moving."

He stood, his bloodied hands clenched into fists. "Don't let their deaths be in vain."

The group exchanged hesitant glances, their faces etched with fear and grief. But one by one, they nodded, rallying around Luke as he led them deeper into the cave.

The air grew colder as they pressed on, the tunnel narrowing into a winding path. The only sounds were the shuffle of their footsteps and the faint echoes of their breathing.

They passed corridor after corridor of empty cells. The carnage grew worse the deeper they ventured. Blood painted the walls and ceilings, streaked with frantic handprints and long claw marks. Chunks of flesh and splintered bones littered the floor, the remains of those who had been torn apart by the ferals.

The stench of decay was suffocating, wrapping around them like a living thing. One of the pets gagged, her hand clamped over her mouth, tears streaming down her face.

Luke's sharp whisper cut through the silence.

"Keep moving."

The group trudged through the sprawling cave system, the jagged rock walls illuminated by the dim, flickering light of their torches. The suffocating stench of death and decay from the feral prison had lessened, but its weight still lingered in their minds.

No one spoke. Each step forward was haunted by the memories of those they had lost along the way. Blood still stained their hands, their clothes, and their thoughts. The cave's air was cooler now, carrying with it the faint promise of freedom.

Relief surged through the group, their pace quickening. But just as they thought they were free, a shadow moved in the faint light ahead.

Luke froze, his heart hammering in his chest.

The group emerged from the cavern into a large, open space. The stars stretched endlessly above them, their light glinting off the damp rocks. The air was crisp and cool, a welcome change from the suffocating heat of the mansion and the feral prison.

For the first time, hope flickered in their hearts.

But as they moved toward the mouth of the cave, a figure stepped forward, silhouetted against the night sky.

A figure stepped forward, illuminated by the flickering torchlight. Lord Malric stood before them, his tattered cloak hanging from his shoulders, his once-pristine appearance now marred by blood and soot. His sword dripped with fresh gore, and his crimson eyes gleamed with malice.

A wicked smile spread across his face, revealing his sharp fangs. "So, my little prodigy made it out alive," he said, his voice a mockery of praise. "And with slaves and pets in tow, no less. You've exceeded my expectations, Luke. Rash, but impressive."

Luke's grip tightened on his bloodied spike, his jaw clenched.

Malric tilted his head, studying them like a predator sizing up its prey. "Do you remember what I told you?" he asked, his tone almost playful. "A toll is owed." He raised his blood-soaked sword, the metal glinting in the dim light. "And now, l've come to collect."

The group stood frozen, their hope extinguished as Malric blocked their path to freedom. Luke stepped forward, his voice steady despite the dread coiling in his chest. "If you want a toll, Malric, you'll have to take it from me."

Malric's smile widened, his crimson eyes narrowing. "Oh, I fully intend to."