Adrian stared hard at the wiry thug. I remember Galtier saying something about the Whitewynn family having great influence over South Tusk. Natasha Whitewynn could prove to be troublesome if she has ulterior motives.

The thug’s nervous posture wasn’t reassuring. His hand gestures, shifty eyes, and forced smile betrayed more than he likely realized. He's scared, not a good sign.

Kael suddenly tilted his head and said, "what’s the harm in seeing what she wants?"

Adrian’s eyes cut toward the wiry man like a blade. This has trap written all over it. “We don’t know who she is or what she wants, and I don’t trust anyone who goes from waving a knife to rolling out the welcome mat.”

The wiry man flinched but nodded quickly, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Right, right. Totally fair, mate. But I swear on me mum, we didn’t know it was you. Miss Nat just wants a chat, honest. No funny business.”

Adrian’s gaze darkened, his body coiled like a spring ready to snap. You just tried to rob us, and now you’re groveling the second you recognize me. Coward.

The wiry thug swallowed hard. “Look, just one of us’ll come with ya. Swear it. The rest’ll disappear faster than you can say ‘lion’s den.’ No tricks.”

Adrian’s lips pressed into a thin line, his thoughts churning. This is a mistake. Taking him along is asking for trouble. But…what if she really does just want to talk?

He glanced at Galtier and asked. "Any thoughts?"

Galtier shook his head. “Don’t look at me. But if you’re asking for my opinion, a single rat in plain sight is better than an unseen swarm. Let him lead us, for now.”

Adrian exhaled sharply, until finally, he turned back to the wiry man. “Fine, only one of you. The rest have to go. Now.”

The wiry man forced a nervous chuckle. “Fair enough. I’ll take ya meself. Boys, you heard him, clear off.”

Adrian watched as the others scattered into nearby alleys, making sure to not miss a single one in case they wanted to try something stupid. I'm still suspicious, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious. Worst comes to worse, I'll fight my way out.

"Fine, lead the way,” Adrian ordered. His eyes bore into the wiry thug, who nodded furiously, nearly tripping over himself as he spun to guide them.

The path wound through narrow, twisting alleys, the air thick with the stench of damp stone and rotting refuse. Adrian’s fists clenched and unclenched in rhythm with his footsteps, senses on high alert.

The thug darted ahead, glancing over his shoulder nervously. Yet, the farther they walked, the less decrepit the surroundings became.

Crumbling walls gave way to sturdier buildings with faded but intact paint. The streets widened, cleaner here, though still far from polished. Seems like we're headed to a nicer part of South Tusk.

Without warning, the wiry man stopped in his tracks, his outstretched arm gesturing to a building that didn’t belong. Adrian’s brows furrowed as he took it in. The structure was pristine compared to its neighbors, its facade painted in soft cream with elegant purple accents

A polished wooden sign hung above the entrance, its gold letters spelling out The Violet Rose. Through the gleaming windows, Adrian could see a warm, inviting interior bathed in soft light, shelves lined with books, and tables set with steaming cups and plates of pastries.

Kael stepped up beside him, his head tilted as he sniffed the air like a curious dog. “A fancy coffee shop? Didn’t see that coming.”

The wiry thug gestured toward the door. “This is the place. But, uh, her orders were clear. Only the boy goes in. The rest stay out here.”

“Well isn't that just convenient." Adrian said sarcastically.

Galtier tapped Adrian on his back. “We’ll be fine. If anything happens to you in there, we’ll intervene."

Adrian still hesitated, scanning the street for potential threats. Looks like I'm in the clear, for now.

With a resigned sigh, he nodded. “Fine. Stay close.”

The wiry thug stepped forward, opening the door with a theatrical bow. “Right this way, Miss Nat’s expecting ya.”

Adrian steeled himself and stepped into the cafe. The warmth and aroma of fresh coffee hit him immediately, a sharp contrast to the filth outside.

A young woman behind the counter polished glassware with mechanical efficiency, while a waiter arranged pastries on a tray. None of them gave Adrian more than a fleeting glance.

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At the far end of the café, where the warm light of the lanterns barely reached, two figures sat at a small, polished table. The first was a girl with wavy violet hair that fell just above her shoulders. It framed her face perfectly, accentuating large, vividly purple eyes that shimmered with an unsettling mixture of intelligence and quiet authority. She wore a high-collared white blouse adorned with intricate lacework and sat perfectly straight, hands resting lightly on the table. This must be Natasha Whitewynn.

The moment Adrian’s eyes fell on the woman standing behind Natasha, the world around him seemed to blur. His breath caught in his throat. Sister… Selena?

Her blonde hair was swept neatly into a bun, though not even the plainness of her maid’s attire could diminish the quiet dignity she carried. That same warmth lingered in her presence, a glow that stirred echoes of his past. How? How can it be her? After all this time… why is she here?

She stepped forward, lips curving into a smile that brightened the room as if the sun had broken through a storm. “Adrian? It’s been so long. Look at you—”

“Sister Selena,” Adrian whispered, his voice breaking as he took an involuntary step toward her. “You’re here? How? Why—?”

“Enough."

The girl who Adrian presumed was Natasha raised a hand as she fixed Adrian with a sharp, expectant gaze. “Save your reunion for later. I dislike repeating myself.”

Selena hesitated, but stepped back. Adrian’s gaze darted between her and Natasha. What is this? Why is Selena… serving her?

Natasha gestured toward the chair across from her. “Sit."

Adrian slowly approached the table as he pulled out the chair. He sank into it, then locked his eyes onto hers. “You’re Natasha, I assume?”

The girl inclined her head slightly and let out a slight smile. “Indeed. Natasha Whitewynn. It’s a pleasure, Adrian. I've actually been waiting for this meeting for quite some time.”

Adrian frowned, leaning back in his chair. Why would someone like her care about me? “How did you even find me?”

“We’ll get to that. But first, let’s not be rude. Hospitality matters, even in a place like this.” Natasha turned her head slightly. “Selena, fetch the menu, would you?”

Selena nodded, stepping forward with a smile that seemed almost apologetic. “Of course, Miss Natasha.”

She retrieved a menu from a nearby stand and extended it to Adrian. “Here you go.”

Adrian accepted the menu, though his focus remained on Natasha. Scanning it briefly, he set it down. “Just coffee. Black.”

Natasha smirked. “How quaint. I’ll have the same.” She glanced at Selena, dismissing her with a graceful wave. “Thank you. That will be all.”

Selena nodded and retreated toward the counter, leaving Adrian and Natasha in a taut silence. As soon as the door to the back room swung shut, Adrian leaned forward. “Alright, now explain. How do you know who I am?”

Natasha rested her chin lightly on one hand. “To put it simply, I have ties to a certain organization you might be familiar with.”

Adrian’s stomach tightened. This can’t be good.

His jaw clenched as he forced himself to remain outwardly composed. “What organization?”

“What if told you it was the Mourne?"

The name hit Adrian like a thunderclap. He stiffened, knuckles whitening as his hands gripped the edge of the table. The Mourne? Is she connected directly, or is this some kind of grand scheme? And why involve Selena?

Natasha's eyes narrowing as she studied him. “Why so quiet, Adrian? You look as though someone just died in front of you.”

Adrian’s voice was tight, laced with barely restrained contempt. “I understand that the Whitewynns are... well-connected. But the Mourne? That’s a bit much, even for your family.”

“That’s not your decision to make, is it? Besides, there’s so much you still don't know."

“The Mourne are nothing more than a collection of monsters who’d commit horrendous acts to achieve their goals.”

Natasha waved a hand as though brushing off an irrelevant detail. “Oh, spare me the moral outrage. Everyone has to make a living somehow.”

Before Adrian could respond, Selena returned, balancing a tray with two steaming cups of coffee. She set one in front of Natasha and the other in front of Adrian. “Your coffee,” she said softly.

Adrian picked up his cup, his eyes narrowing at Natasha. “Did the Mourne sell Selena to your family?”

Natasha’s expression didn’t falter. “Yes, and what of it?"

Selena’s composure cracked ever so slightly. The former nun opened her mouth to speak, but Natasha’s voice cut her off. “Quiet, Selena. You’ve already said enough.”

Adrian pushed back his chair abruptly. "Don't talk to her like that."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her tone cold and unbothered. “And why not? She is my maid, after all. Her role is to obey.”

Selena placed a calming hand on Adrian’s arm. “Adrian, please. It’s alright. Sit down.”

Adrian hesitated, his gaze flicking between Selena’s imploring eyes and Natasha’s icy calm. Finally, he lowered himself back into his seat, though his posture remained tense and ready.

"For someone so young, you do have quite the temper. How charming.” Natasha said, chuckling slightly.

"And you talk a lot for a privileged brat. Do you think I don't have eyes? You look a few years older than me at best."

"Oh? That's quite the tongue you have there."

"I only give back what I am given. I'd ask you to treat others with respect if you want to be respected, but that seems like something that's impossible to ask from you."

For a brief moment, silence enveloped the room, heavy and charged. Then, Natasha’s laughter rang out, light and melodic but carrying an edge that made the air feel colder. She rose from her seat with the fluid grace of a predator, brushing a hand over the hem of her dress as if to dismiss the weight of his words.

“Well, well,” she mused, taking a step toward him. “If you crave my respect so badly… I’ll give you a chance to earn it.”

Adrian’s hands tightened into fists under the table. Earn it? As if I care for her approval. Still… if this is what it takes to understand what’s going on here, so be it.

“How?”

“A one-on-one duel, no interruptions. Whoever wins gets to ask the loser for anything they want.”