Aren’s knife made quick work of the ropes around Cira’s wrists. Her arms fell limp at her sides, the blood rushing back into her hands with a sharp, tingling pain. She rubbed her wrists, her eyes flickering warily to Aren’s gruff expression. She didn’t trust her—that much was obvious—and every sharp movement of hers made her stomach tighten.
«Don’t try anything stupid,» Aren muttered, stepping back. Her hand rested loosely on the hilt of his blade, but her sharp gaze was anything but relaxed.
Cira stood slowly, her legs unsteady from being tied up for so long. Liora reached out to steady her, but Cira waved her off, trying to ignore the piercing stares from the other woman.
Cira forced herself upright, her legs protesting as the blood flow returned in sharp pinpricks. She gritted her teeth, steadying herself against the rush of dizziness. The room felt colder now that she was untied, the weight of suspicion from Aren and Liora still hanging heavy in the air.
«Let’s go,» Aren said sharply, turning on her heel and heading toward the door. Liora lingered a moment longer, her eyes softer, almost apologetic, before following Aren.
Cira hesitated, glancing toward the doorway. She didn’t have much choice—stay in the dark room or follow the people who could either save her or end her life. Drawing in a steadying breath, she stepped forward.
The room they exited was little more than a storage space, the air thick with the scent of damp stone and oil. The faint hum of machinery filtered through the silence, which was a sign that the hideout was located underground. The walls were uneven, patched with old wiring that sparked faintly in places, casting fleeting bursts of light.
Cira followed hesitantly, her steps echoing on the cold floor. Every move drew eyes, piercing and unkind, from the figures scattered throughout the hideout.
The murmurs began immediately. Low voices, sharp with distrust, passed through the air like a current.
«She doesn’t look like much,» one voice muttered from the shadows.
«Doesn’t need to,» another replied. «Spies don’t come with warning labels.»
Cira bit the inside of her cheek, her pulse quickening. Her hands itched to Take Out her Hearing aids, to block out the hostility in their voices, but she couldn’t show any weakness. Aren and Liora seemed unaffected. Aren, especially, strode ahead as though the weight of everyone’s suspicion didn’t exist.
They turned a corner into a larger chamber where more Godhunters lingered, some sharpening weapons, others hunched over maps. A group paused their work as the trio entered, their eyes narrowing in unison. One of them, a man built like a tank with a scarred face, stepped forward.
«Is this her?» He Said with a griff voice, his eyes narrowing as he took in Cira’s disheveled appearance. His fingers tapped idly on the stock of his rifle, but his gaze burned with suspicion.
«Yeah, it’s her,» Aren replied without stopping. «She’s coming to the boss.»
«You sure about this? She could be a spy,» the man pressed, stepping closer. «Cain’s people don’t just lose someone.»
Aren stopped abruptly, her glare cutting through the tension like a blade. «It’s not your concern, Bralik. The leader will decide what to do with her.»
Cira’s throat tightened as they moved past him, her gaze fixed on the uneven ground. She tried to keep her breathing steady, but the tension in the air was suffocating.
«You’re handling this well,» Liora said softly as they walked. Her tone was meant to be reassuring, but Cira could hear the edge of doubt beneath it. «Don’t let them get to you.»
Cira gave a small nod, unsure if she could even speak without her voice betraying her fear. Her mind raced. What would this leader decide? Would they believe her, or would she end up back in that chair—or worse?
Finally, they reached a set of double doors. They were carved from dark wood, a stark contrast to the metal and stone that made up the rest of the hideout. Aren knocked twice, the sound sharp and commanding.
The doors creaked open, revealing a larger room illuminated by a cluster of dim overhead lights. A long table dominated the space, strewn with maps, weapons, and a flickering holo-display projecting tactical data. The walls were lined with shelves holding an odd assortment of tools, books, and relics that seemed both utilitarian and sentimental.
At the head of the table stood the leader. His presence was commanding yet understated—a man who didn’t need to shout to command attention. His hair was a mix of dark strands and gray streaks, tied back neatly, and his face bore lines that spoke of both age and battle. His eyes, sharp and calculating, locked onto Cira the moment she entered the room.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
He said nothing at first, simply studying her with an intensity that made Cira’s skin prickle.
«Is this her?» he asked finally, his voice deep but calm, like the rumble of distant thunder.
Aren nodded. «Caught in Cain's camp. Claims she’s not one of his.»
The leader stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. «Leave us.»
Aren hesitated, casting a quick glance at Liora, who seemed just as reluctant. «Are you sure, sir? She—»
«She won’t try anything,» the leader interrupted, his tone making it clear he wasn’t asking. «You’ve done your part. Let me do mine.»
With a curt nod, Aren turned and walked out, Liora following after a brief, concerned glance at Cira. The doors shut behind them, leaving Cira alone with the man who now held her fate in his hands.
«Sit,» he said, gesturing to the chair across from him.
Cira obeyed, her movements stiff, her body still aching from the earlier ordeal. The leader leaned back in his chair, studying her with an unreadable expression. He didn’t speak right away, and the silence stretched, pressing down on her nerves.
«Do you know who I am?»
Cira shook her head. Her voice felt stuck in her throat, and she didn’t trust herself to speak even if she could.
«I’m Taros,» he said, watching her closely. «I lead the Godhunters in this region. Which makes you my problem.»
Taros sat across from her, leaning back with an air of confidence. His sharp eyes, framed by faint lines of age and experience, never left her. The silence was heavy, a tangible force pressing down on Cira’s chest.
«You look nervous,» Taros said finally, his voice low and even. «I suppose that’s understandable.»
Cira swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. «I… I told them I’m not with Cain,» she said, her voice steadier than she felt. «I’m not your enemy.»
Taros raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. «Not my enemy? You were found near Cain’s camp, caught amidst his men. Forgive me if I don’t take you at your word.»
Cira swallowed hard, her fingers clenching in her lap. And then she Spike, her words slow as she fought to keep her composure: «I went there. I was looking for Cain.»
Taros’s eyebrows lifted slightly, but he said nothing, letting the silence stretch until Cira felt compelled to continue.
«He came to my village,» she said, her voice trembling despite her effort to steady it. «He Hurt people I cared about. He—» Her throat tightened. «He killed my girlfriend.»
Taros leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. The movement was subtle, but it made the space between them feel smaller, his presence more imposing.
«And you thought you could take him on yourself?» he asked, his tone neutral but carrying an undercurrent of incredulity.
Cira hesitated, her knuckles turning white as she gripped her knees. «I didn’t think,» she snapped, fire suddenly lighting her words. «I just… I couldn’t let him walk away after what he did. I found his camp. I tried to take him down. And then your people came out of nowhere and knocked me out before I could finish what I started.»
His lips quirked, a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes. «Bold, but reckless. Not exactly a winning combination.»
She bristled at his tone, her pulse quickening. «What would you have done?» she snapped before she could stop herself. «Sit back and let someone like Cain destroy everything you care about?»
For the first time, Taros’s expression shifted, a flicker of something—respect, perhaps—passing over his features. He leaned back again, his gaze sweeping over her. «Your demeanor just shifted,» he said, almost amused. «A second ago, you looked like a caged animal. Now there’s a fire in your eyes. You’re no wallflower, are you?»
He leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, his expression unreadable as he Looks at Cira.
«Though You don’t look like much,» Taros said finally, breaking the silence. «No enhancements, no marks of an Ascended. Just those hearing aids.» His eyes flicked briefly to her ears. «Hardly the profile of someone who goes toe-to-toe with Cain and lives to tell the tale.»
Cira bristled, her hands curling into fists on her lap. «I didn’t ask to be here,» she shot back, her voice sharp. «And I’m not lying about why I went after him.»
Taros raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his face. «You’re bold, I’ll give you that. But boldness doesn’t equal wisdom. Cain doesn’t leave loose ends unless he’s got a reason to.» He leaned forward again, his voice lowering. «The Ascended are talking about a scar. A new one. Right here.» He traced a line across his own throat. «Word is, some lunatic in a red hood managed to get close enough to make him bleed. The Ascended call her ‘The Red Hood.’» His gaze sharpened as he studied her. «That wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?»
Cira’s chest tightened, but she kept her expression neutral as she grabbed the Hood of her Red cloak that, for some reason, wasn't taken from her. «That name a little on the nose, isn’t it?»
Taros chuckled, a deep, almost warm sound. «Agreed. Sounds like something out of a bad play. But names stick, and yours might’ve just gotten you on every Ascended hit list.»
He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. «Tell me something, though. How does a civilian with no enhancements or training manage to do what entire squads of Ascended haven’t?» He studied her and soon a soft smile, this time also reflected by his eyes, formed on his lips. «Desperation makes people dangerous. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.» He sighed, tapping his fingers idly against the table.
Cira’s shoulders sagged slightly, tension draining as Taros’s demeanor shifted. She didn’t trust him, but there was something less threatening in his tone now.
Taros sighed, leaning forward with an air of mock impatience. «You’re awfully persistent. Most people would’ve cracked by now, and yet here you sit, still spinning the same tale.»
«I’m not lying,» she snapped, the fire in her voice surprising even herself.
The corner of Taros’s mouth quirked, just barely. «Good. Hold onto that backbone. You’ll need it.»
Before she could respond, he continued, his tone shifting to something lighter. «You know, you’re lucky.» He gestured toward the door behind her. «If it weren’t for Liora, I wouldn’t even be entertaining this conversation.»
Cira blinked, the name catching her off guard. «Liora vouched for me?»
Taros nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. «She’s too soft for this life. Always looking for the good in people, always stepping in when she thinks someone needs saving.» He shook his head, a mixture of fondness and frustration in his expression. «That kindness will get her killed one day.»
The tension in Cira’s chest loosened, but only slightly. She didn’t know what to make of Taros yet—whether his casual demeanor was genuine or just another layer of his test.
«So, what happens now?» she asked cautiously.
Taros leaned back again, folding his arms across his chest. «What happens now is this: you stay under our watch. No wandering off, no sudden heroics. If you’re telling the truth about Cain, you might actually be useful. If not…» His voice trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air like a blade.
«I’m telling the truth,» Cira insisted, her voice firm.
Taros regarded her for a moment longer, then gave a single nod. «We’ll see. For now, you’re not a prisoner. But you’re not exactly a guest either. Don’t give me a reason to change that.»
Cira didn’t respond, her mind racing as she tried to piece together what she’d just agreed to.
«One more thing,» Taros added, his tone softening just slightly. «Don’t mistake my civility for trust. You’ll earn that when I decide you deserve it.»
Cira nodded, the weight of his words settling heavily on her shoulders.
Taros rose from his seat, signaling the end of their conversation. «Liora and Aren will show you around. Don’t cause trouble.»
Cira nodded, her throat tightening around the words she wanted to say. Instead, she pushed her chair back, the scrape of its legs against the floor breaking the tension.
«Little Red,» Taros called as she reached the door. She paused, looking back over her shoulder.
«Whatever happens next, remember this: desperation can make you dangerous, but it can also make you careless. Don’t let it be your downfall.»
She held his gaze for a moment before nodding. «I’ll keep that in mind.»
With that, she stepped out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her. The corridor outside was dim and quiet, a stark contrast to the charged atmosphere she’d just left behind. For the first time since waking up in this strange place, Cira
allowed herself a small, shaky breath of relief.
But even as she walked away, her mind raced. What had she just gotten herself into?