Chapter 18

  Lone Wolf Part 1

  "I’ll go alone," Lux says, his tone leaving little room for argument. He turns to Luna. "You take Seven—" he catches himself, glancing at the dog girl with a softer expression, "—sorry, sweetie, what’s your name?"

  The girl shifts her weight, almost hiding behind Luna again. After a hesitant pause, she says in the tiniest voice, "Renn."Lux gives her a small nod. "Alright, Renn… you stay with Luna. She’ll keep you safe. I’m going to find your mommy and daddy."

  Renn’s ears droop as she looks between them, her voice trembling. "You… you promise?""I promise," Lux says again, steady and sure.

  Luna studies him for a long moment, her eyes narrowing just slightly as if weighing whether to stop him or let him go. Finally, she exhales. "If you’re going to the north wall, you’d better be ready. That’s not a place for lone travelers… especially not ones poking around where they don’t belong."

  Luna’s tail gives one slow flick, her gaze never leaving Lux. Then, without a word, she turns to Renn and pulls her gently away from him.

  "If you’re set on this," she says, her voice even but edged with something unreadable, "then go. I won’t stop you. But don’t expect me to hold your hand through it."

  There’s no anger in her tone—only the cool measure of someone deciding whether i'm worth the trust i'm asking for. "If you come back alive… maybe I’ll start believing you can do what you say."

  Renn looks at Lux with wide, uncertain eyes, her fingers twisting the ragged hem of her tattered dress. She doesn’t speak, but I can see the silent plea in her expression.

  Luna notices too. "Come on, Renn," she says quietly, leading the girl away into the shadows without another glance back.

  I'm left standing in the dim alley, the quiet swallowing me whole. No directions. No supplies. Just the name—north wall—and the knowledge that i'm walking straight toward trouble.

  Lux lets out a long breath, the kind that carries both frustration and resolve. "Gonna be a long night," he mutters under his breath, glancing once more in the direction Luna and Renn disappeared.

  The streets of Springvale thin as he moves north, the warm light of taverns and shops giving way to colder, dimmer lamps. The cobblestone road turns to packed dirt, the air shifting—less chatter, more echoing clanks and the distant thud of heavy labor.

  The north wall looms ahead, an imposing line of dark stone cutting across the horizon. Even at night, the sound of work doesn’t stop—metal on rock, shouted orders, the groan of overloaded carts. Lanterns sway from poles, casting long, sharp shadows over the makeshift camps and guarded gates.

  From here, Lux can already see figures moving—some chained together, others hauling stone under the watch of armed men.

  A sharp, wet cough echoes somewhere beyond the wall, followed by a barked command. The place feels less like a construction site and more like a prison.

  Lux hunkers down behind a stack of rough-cut stone blocks, the shadows swallowing him as he studies the movements of the guards.

  The outer patrol is tight—two-man teams pacing the perimeter at regular intervals—but every so often, a pair of them veers toward a squat, timber-framed building set just inside the work camp. The door swings open, spilling a rectangle of orange light into the night. They go in……and they don’t come back out right away.

  Sometimes it’s minutes. Other times, longer. When they do emerge, their armor is a little looser, their steps slower, and more than once, Lux catches the telltale sound of a cork popping from inside before the door closes again.

  It’s not just drink, though—he can hear muffled voices inside. Laughter. The occasional high-pitched sound, too brief to tell if it’s joy or pain.

  From the way the guards glance around before entering, it’s clear this isn’t just a break room—it’s a place they don’t want the wrong eyes seeing into.

  If that building is what it seems, it could be the weak point. Few guards outside. Most of them distracted inside.

  Lux creeps forward, keeping low in the darkness until the rough timbers of the building are just a few feet away. A narrow, grime-streaked window sits half open, the faint glow of lamplight spilling out.

  Peering inside, he sees rows of battered sewing machines—old, squealing things—worked by women with hollow eyes and slumped shoulders. Their clothes are little more than rags, their hair matted and unwashed. The air inside looks thick, humid from too many bodies in a cramped space.

  Every few minutes, a guard walks the line, barking something before snatching a garment from the table and tossing it into a sack. Others… don’t even pretend to watch the sewing.

  Two women are pulled roughly from their stools, their protests weak, almost instinctive rather than hopeful. One stumbles, her bare feet scraping the splintered floor. The guards drag them toward a narrow staircase at the back, shoving them upward out of sight.

  Lux’s gut tightens. The whole place reeks of exploitation—labor on the ground floor, something worse above.

  From his angle, he can also see a battered side door with a weak-looking latch. One guard leans against the frame, his head nodding slightly, half-asleep.

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  Lux moves like a shadow, every step measured, his breath held tight in his chest. The guard by the side door doesn’t stir—his chin dipped to his chest, the soft rasp of sleep escaping his lips.

  In one smooth motion, Lux draws his pocket knife, the small blade glinting faintly in the lamplight leaking from inside.

  He steps forward, his free hand snapping up to cover the guard’s mouth as the knife slides across his throat in a swift, practiced motion.

  The man jerks once, a wet gasp muffled against Lux’s palm, then goes limp.

  Lux eases the body down quietly, scanning the

  shadows before dragging the corpse to a warped storage closet just inside the side hall. He stuffs the man inside, pulling the door shut until only darkness remains.The muffled whir of sewing machines fills the hall, mingled with the low murmur of conversation from the main workroom.

  The smell of oil, sweat, and damp cloth clings to the air.

  Ahead, the hallway forks—one way leading toward the line of sewing women, the other to the narrow staircase where the two women had been taken earlier.

  Lux slips along the edge of the room, keeping low behind the rows of battered sewing machines. The women glance at him nervously, some ducking their heads, others casting quick, fearful glances toward the guards at the far end.He leans down to the first woman he passes, whispering,

  "Do you know where Renn’s mom is?"

  She stiffens, lips pressing tight, and shakes her head without a word. The next does the same, not even daring to look at him.

  Finally, a third woman—older, her hair streaked with grey and her knuckles raw from years at the machine—hesitates. Her eyes dart to the staircase in the back, then back to Lux.

  "If you save all of us," she whispers, her voice raspy but firm, "I’ll tell you where she is."

  Before Lux can speak, she lifts her chin slightly and points toward the narrow stairs, the same ones the two women had been dragged up earlier. Her gaze hardens as if to say: that’s where you need to start.

  From the floor below, the guards don’t seem to have noticed him yet—but the longer he lingers, the greater the risk.

  Lux moves silently up the narrow staircase, every creak of the old wood under his boots sounding far too loud in the tense quiet.

  At the top, the hallway is dim, lit only by a single lantern fixed to the far wall. The air is thick and humid, carrying the sour mix of sweat, unwashed bodies, and something heavier—sex and misery intertwined.

  From the first door on his left comes the sound of moaning, strained and unwillingness, paired with a wet, rhythmic smack… smack… smack. A man’s voice grunts in low, uneven breaths, the bed frame creaking under each thrust.

  The woman’s moans break occasionally into muffled sobs, quickly silenced, as though she knows crying only makes it worse.

  Lux’s grip tightens around the knife in his palm.

  The door is closed, but the sound tells him the man inside is far too distracted to notice someone coming up behind him.

  Lux eases the door open just enough to slip through, the hinges groaning faintly. The room is dim, lit by a single oil lamp on a crooked nightstand.

  On the bed, a rabbit demi-human girl lies pinned beneath a sweating, grunting man. Her wrists are bound to the headboard with frayed rope, her blouse shoved up, skirt tangled around her hips. Her long ears are flat against her head, trembling.

  The moment she sees Lux, her eyes widen in shock—then hope flickers through the tears streaking her cheeks. She mouths the words help me, her lips trembling, chest rising and falling in panicked breaths.

  The man atop her is too lost in his own rhythm to notice, his pace quickening, grunts growing harsher as he drives into her with sharp, ugly thrusts. The wet slap of skin meeting skin fills the air, along with the creak of the bed frame.

  Lux moves closer, silent as a shadow, every step deliberate. The rabbit girl’s gaze flickers between his knife and his face, her tear-streaked plea saying everything.

  Lux moves in fast, one hand clamping hard over the man’s mouth before he can shout. The sudden yank backward rips him off the rabbit girl, his sweaty body hitting the cold floorboards with a heavy thud.

  The man thrashes once, confused, but Lux is already behind him, his knee driving into the guard’s back to pin him in place. The cold edge of the pocket knife presses firm against the exposed throat.

  "Goodnight, motherfucker,"

  Lux growls low in his ear—just before the blade slices deep and clean.

  The man jerks, his muffled scream lost in Lux’s grip, and then the fight drains out of him as the blood runs hot over Lux’s hand. A moment later, he’s still.

  Lux eases the body down quietly to avoid alerting anyone outside. The rabbit girl is still on the bed, her breathing ragged, wrists bound and red from struggling.

  Lux keeps his voice low, barely more than a breath. “Stay quiet.”

  He slides the knife through the frayed rope, careful not to nick her skin. She flinches at the first brush of his hand, a soft whimper escaping, but she clamps her lips shut, holding the sound in.

  The bindings fall away, and she rubs her wrists, the skin there raw and tender.

  "Are you Renn’s mom?" Lux asks quietly, his eyes steady on hers.

  The rabbit girl shakes her head, her voice hoarse from use. “No…” She swallows hard, her ears twitching in tiny, nervous movements. “I… I don’t know her.”

  Outside in the hall, a muffled laugh echoes from further down—proof he’s not alone up here.

  Lux studies her for a moment, weighing the risks, but there’s no fear in her eyes anymore—only raw defiance.

  She steps over the guard’s body without hesitation, crouching to pry the dagger from his limp hand. The steel catches the lamplight, and she gives it a quick, testing twirl in her grip—clumsy, but determined.

  "You may be human," she says, voice still rasping but steady, "but you saved me. So I’m sticking with you."

  From further down the hall, another creak of bedsprings and a muffled cry remind Lux there’s no time to argue. The girl moves to his side, dagger ready, looking to him for the next move.

  Lux steps into the hall with her right behind him, his voice low but sharp as he glances over his shoulder."Look at me—"

  Her amber eyes meet his.

  "You follow my lead, got it? No running off, and no heroics."

  She nods quickly, clutching the dagger tight in both hands.

  They move together down the dim corridor, the flickering lantern casting jagged shadows along the warped wooden walls. The next door is only partially closed, and through the gap comes a desperate, trembling plea:

  "Please… no… not again… I have a husband"

  A smack cuts her off, followed by a muffled sob. Then the creak-creak-creak of a bed under steady, ugly rhythm fills the air.The girl beside Lux stiffens, her grip on the dagger whitening her knuckles, her breath shallow.

  Lux moves to the door, pushing it open just enough to slip through, the hinges giving a faint groan.

  Inside, the scene is all too familiar—another demi-human woman, this one with long, russet fox ears, bound at the wrists and ankles, her face streaked with tears. A heavyset man looms over her, his trousers shoved down, grunting as he forces himself into her.

  Her eyes flick toward the movement in the doorway, widening in shock when she sees Lux, then darting briefly to the rabbit girl beside him. The fox woman doesn’t speak—she just pleads silently with her gaze.

  Lux pads forward, each step silent, until he’s right behind the man. The rabbit girl follows his lead perfectly, holding back, watching his signal.

  In one motion, Lux’s hand clamps over the man’s mouth, jerking him back off the fox woman. Before he can react, the knife flashes across his throat, warm blood spurting onto the floorboards. The man twitches once, then goes still.

  The fox woman gasps, sucking in ragged breaths, but doesn’t scream—just stares at him, disbelief mixing with relief.

  The rabbit girl nods sharply at his signal, stepping into the doorway with the stolen dagger clutched tight, her back to them as she keeps watch down the hall.

  Lux turns to the fox-eared woman, lowering his knife but keeping his voice low. “So… this lovely lady is Renn’s mother?”

  Her eyes widen at the name. “Renn?” she whispers, disbelief cracking her voice. Her ears twitch forward as if straining to make sure she heard him right. “You… you know my daughter?”Lux nods once. “She’s safe. With friends.”

  The fox woman lets out a shuddering breath, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks—not from fear this time, but from hope.

  “Please… take me to her,” she says, her voice breaking.

  The rabbit girl glances back briefly at the sound of emotion in her tone, but stays on guard.