The bazaar was alive with the subtle rhythm of trade, its low murmur underscored by the occasional clink of metal or the shuffle of boots over cracked ground. Glasspine was calm today. Too calm, Laura thought, as she stood behind her makeshift stall. The haphazard display of bottles and bundles of herbs seemed almost out of place against the dusty, scavenged wood of her counter.
She rearranged a cluster of vials with steady hands, her fingers brushing over a bright green tincture. Her posture was calm, deliberate, as if the tension she carried had melted into the sunlit haze. She wore a makeshift leather tank top, the straps weathered but sturdy, paired with a skirt of leather straps tied to a wide belt, each tassel swaying with her movements. But the way her eyes flicked up every few moments, scanning the street for familiar faces, betrayed her unease.
Chan’s stall was just across from hers, cluttered with salvaged tech and peculiar instruments that hummed faintly with forgotten energy. He leaned against the edge of the stall, his arms crossed, one brow arched as he watched her. There was a faint frown etched into his face.
“You’re all settled up now, are you?” Chan asked, his tone light but edged with something sharper.
“Isn’t it better than scouring ruins for scrap?” Laura replied, her voice calm and measured. “Calm and simple.”
Chan tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his expression. “You really don’t miss the thrill? The discovery?”
She smirked faintly, finally glancing his way. “You’re the one with curiosity, Chan. Not me.”
For a moment, silence hung between them, punctuated by the faint drone of voices from other vendors. Chan’s eyes narrowed. “You’re different,” he said finally, his voice quieter.
Laura shrugged, her fingers absently straightening a row of tiny jars. “You’d be surprised what people can adapt to, given the right motivation.”
Chan didn’t reply. He just watched her, the suspicion in his eyes deepening. Whatever comfort he might have felt in her presence was long gone.
Then Elias appeared, moving through the bazaar with his usual air of easy confidence. He stopped at one of the neighboring stalls, exchanging quick words with a vendor before his sharp gaze found Laura. His lips curved into a faint smile, a predator’s grin softened for public consumption.
“Laura,” he said, his voice carrying just enough to reach her over the noise. “Let’s go.”
She stilled. It wasn’t a command, not outright, but something about his tone brooked no argument. Her response was instant.
“Sure,” she said, stepping out from behind her stall without hesitation. “Coming.”
Chan’s frown deepened as he watched her fall in step beside Elias. She didn’t spare him a glance, her attention fixed solely on the man at her side. It was too smooth, too seamless, and it left a knot of unease coiling in Chan’s chest.
He didn’t trust him. Not for a second.
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Chan’s eyes lingered on Laura as she left with Elias, her step too easy, her demeanor too calm. He caught the briefest moment as Elias’s hand settled on her shoulder, a gesture so casual and possessive that it sent a jolt through Chan. What rattled him more was that she didn’t shrug it off. She didn’t glare or snap, didn’t twist away with that bite of sarcasm she kept ready for moments like this. She just went with him.
That alone was hella weird.
Chan’s mind reeled. This was Laura. The same Laura who, despite their shared past, had always drawn hard lines about touch—especially anything outside of the utilitarian confines of their... arrangements. Even during their gang’s heyday, when everyone was flinging themselves at each other in the dark spaces between survival and desperation, Laura had her boundaries. She didn’t allow casual touches. A pat on the back? Maybe, if you were lucky. Anything more? You risked her wrath.
If that had been Denzel who tried what Elias just did, she’d have punched him square in the jaw. No hesitation, no apology.
Chan’s lips twitched into an involuntary smile, a memory flashing through his mind. She had punched Denzel once. It was early on, back when their free-use arrangements were just starting to solidify, back when people still thought they had room to test limits. Denzel had thought a playful grab would go unnoticed. He was wrong. Laura’s fist had landed before anyone could blink, and the shocked look on his face had been priceless.
But this? This was not the Laura he knew. No logic could convince him that the woman he’d grown up with, fought beside, and shared nights with had become... this. This settled, docile figure—a caravan healer, a potions vendor. A placid follower in Elias’s orbit.
It didn’t fit. Not at all.
Chan’s fingers tapped against the edge of his stall as he watched them disappear into the flow of the bazaar. Unease curled in his chest, knotting tighter with every step Laura took away from him. Something was off. Something was wrong. And no matter how many theories he spun, he couldn’t make the pieces align.
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Laura walked alongside Elias, her stride unhurried but deliberate, matching his with an ease that felt practiced. The caravan’s stop in Glasspine had lasted longer than most, and the town’s rhythms had seeped into their routines. She’d obeyed his subtle orders—always delivered with the practiced charm of a man who expected to be followed—without hesitation. Fetch this. Speak to them. Prepare that. It had been a game, she realized, a long one, each move carefully placed to test her boundaries.
Elias never pushed too far, though. Not yet. And certainly not into the most obvious arena. But today felt different. This moment felt different.
It was dinner break. The perfect time.
When they reached their shared room, Elias stepped aside to let her enter first. She felt his gaze settle on her, heavy and unmistakable. She always felt his eyes on her, lingering, hungry, possessive. The type who saw ownership as inevitable. The perfect type.
If she calculated right, he’d make his move tonight. And if she was right, her window to act had finally closed. It was time.
The door clicked shut, and Laura’s steps were measured as she turned toward him. Before Elias could fully pivot, she closed the distance, her arms sliding around him from behind in a smooth, practiced motion.
“How about some tea?” she murmured, her voice a mix of lightness and warmth. “Our precious leader needs his strength.”
Elias turned slowly, his sharp eyes narrowing as he searched hers. For the briefest second, doubt flickered across his face, like a shadow slipping through a crack. But it vanished quickly, replaced by that practiced confidence.
“Of course, my dear,” he replied, his tone smooth as silk.
Laura smiled, already moving to the small table by the corner. She worked methodically, pulling out a teapot and matching clay cups, setting them on the handmade table that wobbled slightly under their weight. She added cushions, adjusting them just so. To anyone else, it might have looked like a quaint ritual—a school play version of a ceremony from a culture neither of them had ever known.
Clay teapot. Clay cups. A dented pot filled with still-hot water from earlier in the evening. Time slowed as Laura breathed deeply, her movements deliberate and controlled. Inhale. Exhale. Stay calm.
Behind her, Elias had removed his long leather coat. He stood in a silk shirt, its upper buttons casually undone to reveal the faint glow of the medallion resting against his chest. His presence dominated the space without effort, his every gesture steeped in the air of authority he wore like armor.
She glanced at him, careful to keep her movements measured, and made her next move. Laura let the strap of her top slide off her shoulder, just far enough to catch his attention but not so far as to seem intentional. She noted the way his gaze lingered, the faint tightening at the corner of his mouth. Good. So far, so good.
She reached for a small glass jar, its contents a mix of dried green leaves, and sprinkled a pinch into each cup. Then, she picked up another jar, this one with vivid blue leaves pressed against the glass. She paused, her fingers hovering over the contents for a heartbeat longer than necessary. Too late to back out now. With practiced ease, she dropped two blue leaves into one of the cups.
Elias watched her with an expression that bordered on admiration, though not for her. His pride radiated outward, self-contained and self-indulgent. This moment was his, in his mind—his plan, his control. Not a shred of doubt marred his expression.
Laura poured the water carefully, her hand steady as the liquid swirled and darkened in each cup. She picked up the one with the blue leaves, cradling it as though it were precious, and handed it to Elias.
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“Give it some time,” she said softly.
She took the second cup and moved to the bed, its rusty frame scraped clean in an attempt at respectability. The mattress was lumpy but large, the faded covers stretched tight. Laura perched on the edge, the tea’s faint steam curling upward as she cradled the cup between her hands. Her breathing remained slow, deliberate.
Elias settled across from her, his expression expectant as he raised the cup to his lips, savoring the moment he believed was his to control.
Elias took a deliberate sip from his cup, the faint aroma curling upward, mixing with the lingering scent of leather and faint rust that clung to the room. Laura mirrored him, her deep brown eyes unwavering as they watched him carefully place the cup on a nearby shelf. Her rich, mahogany-toned skin caught the dim light, the soft sheen giving her an air of calm control that belied the tension simmering underneath. His gaze shifted, locking onto hers with a calculated intensity as he moved to sit beside her on the bed.
An arm draped around her shoulder—predictable, almost laughably so.
Ugh. Here we go...
“My dear,” Elias began, his voice a blend of smooth charm and faint arrogance. “Ever since I’d seen you back in Burgh so many years ago...”
Laura took a larger sip from her tea cup, the liquid warm against her throat. Why do they always do the monologue?
“...you’d caught my eye,” Elias continued, his hand resting lightly against her shoulder. “With your smarts and your... skill with plants and potions.”
Oh yeah. You call them "skills" now, she thought, her gaze dropping briefly to her chest, where her medium-sized breasts fit snugly against the worn leather of her tank top. The thought flickered through her mind like an errant spark—fleeting, irrelevant.
Elias moved his left hand toward her, his intentions unmistakable.
Nope. Too little, too soon.
With a practiced elegance, Laura slipped out of his embrace, her slender arms moving with the grace of someone who knew how to command attention without asking for it. The curves of her figure, framed by the worn leather tank top and the swaying tassels of her skirt, added an unspoken power to her every step. She stood, took his cup from the shelf, and handed it back to him, her smile effortless.
“No need to rush this, dear, is there?” she said, her tone light but layered with an undercurrent of suggestion. “We have a whole day ahead of us.” She stretched the phrase, “whole day,” her voice dipping just enough to hint at the length of the promised reward.
If Elias had any doubts, he didn’t show them. His lips curved into a faint smile as he leaned back on the bed, his shirt half-open, the faint glow of his medallion catching the dim light.
“Fine,” he said, his tone indulgent. “Good things need to be savored.”
Laura’s gaze flicked to his chest, the lines of his lean muscles framed by the open silk. Damn, if he wasn’t such a sleaze, he might make a nice one-night stand.
Focus, Laura...
She turned slightly, an “accidental” move that sent the tassels of her skirt swaying, revealing a sliver of her thigh—smooth and dark as polished ebony, catching the faint light just enough to make him linger. It worked. She caught the way his eyes followed the movement, lingering, drinking her in.
For the next few minutes, Elias remained blissfully quiet, his attention fixed on her while he sipped at his tea. His gaze held the kind of admiration that she recognized, one that stroked his own ego as much as it fed his lust. Perfect.
Laura kept her own tea steady, watching him closely. It wasn’t tea, not exactly. The dried leaves steeped in their cups were more fruit or berry—a blend harmless enough for her but laced with the precise balance needed to nudge Elias into a haze. She observed him as he reached the bottom of his cup, noting the subtle changes: his pupils dilating, his posture softening, the way his movements slowed.
She downed her own drink in one practiced motion, setting the cup aside. Elias leaned back further, exhaling a contented sigh. The tension in his body had melted away, replaced by a languid ease.
He’s almost ready.
Laura’s smile deepened slightly as she watched the subtle transformation take hold. Everything was going according to plan.
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Laura leaned closer to Elias, her voice soft yet edged with curiosity. “How do you do it, Elias? Keep everyone together? You’re such a good leader.”
Elias’s lips curled into a lazy smile, his posture sinking further into relaxation. He toyed with the edge of his medallion, the faint glow catching in the dim light, before answering, his words deliberate but vague. “Oh, you know, it’s about knowing people. Understanding what they want.”
“Hmm,” Laura murmured, inching closer. Her movements were measured, the sway of her tassels brushing lightly against his leg. “That sounds so simple, but it’s not, is it?”
Elias’s hand rested on her thigh, his touch light at first, testing. His thumb traced small circles against her brown skin. “It takes more than you think,” he said, his tone nonchalant, as if he barely registered her question. His fingers began to drift higher, brushing against the leather straps of her skirt.
Laura tilted her head, maintaining her focus. “You must have secrets,” she pressed, her tone teasing. “How do you really keep control? Keep them so loyal?”
Elias chuckled, low and self-assured, his hand sliding up to her waist. “Control is about… finesse,” he said vaguely, his voice losing some of its edge as he relaxed further.
Laura shifted closer, her movements seamless, her body nearly flush against his. She could feel his breath, warm against her cheek, and the growing tension beneath him as his body responded to her proximity. She kept her voice light, inquisitive. “Finesse? You’ll have to teach me that someday.”
Elias’s other hand moved to her breast, his touch bolder now, but Laura’s attention remained razor-sharp. Then, the medallion resting on his chest began to pulse. The glow shifted from faint and steady to bright and erratic, its light casting jagged shadows across the room.
His pupils contracted sharply, his lazy demeanor vanishing as a sharp clarity returned to his gaze. He looked at her, then down at the medallion. Laura’s eyes followed his, narrowing as she realized what was happening. She reached for the medallion, her fingers darting out, but Elias was faster.
With a surge of unexpected strength, he shoved her off him, his weight bearing her down against the bed. The impact knocked the air from her lungs as he loomed over her, his face a mask of shock and fury.
“What is this?!” Elias’s voice was sharp, laced with betrayal. “Defiance?!” His hand shot to her throat, his grip iron-tight.
Laura’s legs kicked helplessly as she bucked beneath him, her breath coming in short, rasping gasps. Elias leaned closer, his eyes wild, the medallion’s glow pulsing violently. “I invited you in! I made you important! And THIS is how you repay me?!”
His hand tightened, cutting off her air entirely. Laura’s vision swam, her chest heaving as she fought for breath. In his rage, the medallion swung freely, dangling just above her face. Her eyes locked on it, her mind racing. Just one move…
Elias noticed her focus too late. Her body twisted, but his knees slammed down on her arms, pinning them to the bed. His grip on her throat didn’t falter. The medallion continued to glow, its light searing into her consciousness as her vision darkened.
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Chan sat back against the edge of his stall, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed. His mind had been spiraling ever since Laura and Elias left. Everything about it felt wrong—the way she followed Elias, the way she smiled at him. It gnawed at him, poking at memories and old feelings he tried not to acknowledge.
The sound of footsteps pulled him out of his thoughts. Two locals approached his stall, their expressions cautious but curious. Chan straightened automatically, his hands moving to the various pieces of scrap and oddities spread across the table. He let muscle memory take over, answering their hesitant questions and exchanging goods for a few battered coins.
“That’s a good find,” he said absently, handing over a bundle of mismatched wiring. “Never know when you’ll need to rewire something.”
The buyer nodded, clearly uncertain, but handed over the payment anyway. Chan watched them go with a faint smirk. None of them had any idea why they bought the things he sold. That was the magic of scrap. It could become anything if you had the right imagination. He chuckled at the thought, but the humor faded quickly.
As the minutes ticked by and dinner time came and went, Chan’s thoughts drifted back to Laura and Elias. He glanced toward the building where the caravan folk were stationed while in Glasspine, his stomach twisting with unease.
Sure, Elias was sleazy and sketchy, but Chan couldn’t ignore the fact that the man had made the Wormwood raider passage safe. Joining his caravan had meant sharing in Elias’s deals with the raiders, who were just as willing to trade with him as they were to kill outsiders.
And Laura? Why couldn’t she genuinely choose a simpler life? Maybe she was tired of the chaos, of the constant fight to survive. Maybe she really did want to settle down as a healer, as a potions vendor, and leave the old life behind.
Chan sighed, feeling a pang of guilt twist in his chest. He felt selfish. He didn’t want to fully accept what he felt for her—that he’d been feeling far more than he should for someone they’d all agreed would be casual. But it was there, and no amount of denial could change that. Still, if this was what she wanted, if this was her choice, wasn’t it his responsibility to respect that?
He glanced again toward the building, his unease deepening. But were her decisions truly her own? That was the real question, the one that wouldn’t leave him alone.
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As her vision blurred and her breath came in ragged, shallow gasps, Laura didn’t hear the door open—she felt it. The shift in the room, a presence breaking through the tension, was enough to make Elias’s grip weaken just slightly. It was all she needed.
With one desperate twist, Laura freed her right hand and yanked at the medallion around Elias’s neck. The chain resisted, stronger than she had anticipated, and her effort caused a ripple of chaos. Elias’s head jerked sharply to the side, following the pull of the medallion, and collided directly with her fist. The impact sent his head snapping back, inertia doing its work as blood spurted from his nose.
Elias let out a guttural snarl, his right hand swinging back in a blind slap that landed across her cheek. The force knocked her head against the bed, her grip on the medallion faltering. She barely registered his left hand clamping over his bleeding nose as she fought to process the chaos unfolding around her.
The slap left her disoriented, her head spinning and her breath a harsh rasp. She heard the scuffle before she saw it. Elias’s weight lifted from her as a new commotion erupted. She coughed violently, air rushing back into her lungs too quickly, leaving her lightheaded. Sliding off the bed and onto the floor, she pressed a hand to her aching throat, her vision swimming.
Through the haze, she caught fragments of movement. Chan was there. He must have been. She couldn’t focus enough to see who was winning, but Elias was on top now, his hands bearing down. What the hell is Chan even doing here? The thought flitted through her mind, disconnected from the chaos around her.
Her gaze darted around the room, desperate for anything useful. Then she saw it: the clay pot on the low table they had used earlier for tea. Without hesitation, Laura reached for it, her fingers curling around the rough surface. She staggered to her knees, her body swaying with the effort, and swung the pot with all her strength.
The pot shattered against Elias’s head, sending shards and hot water flying. The force of the blow sent him sprawling, his body crumpling to the floor beside Chan. Laura’s chest heaved as she crawled forward, her trembling hands reaching for the medallion still around Elias’s neck. With a quick, determined motion, she pulled it free, the chain snapping at last.
The room tilted violently, and the adrenaline coursing through her veins gave way to exhaustion. The medallion clutched tightly in her hand, Laura felt herself falling, her strength giving out as she collapsed into Chan’s arms. Darkness closed in, but the faint comfort of his embrace steadied her as the world faded away.