After treating Talon's wound and making sure she was fast asleep, Janzo didn't get a moment's rest. Duty called.
He stepped quietly out of his lab apartment, the door clicking softly behind him. The Outpost had begun to stir—merchants yelling over prices, guards barking orders, and somewhere in the distance, a child chasing chickens through the dust. Janzo pulled his hood up and moved through the morning crowd until he reached the tavern.
His brother was already there, wiping down mugs with a cloth that probably hadn't been washed in weeks.
Janzo leaned in. "Listen, about the brewing supplies—the distributor from Gallywood just confirmed shipment delays. If I'm not around when they arrive, tell them to leave the boxes by the cellar door. And when mixing the ale base, remember: no more than four pinches of mountain root or you'll poison someone. Again."
His brother laughed. "Don't worry, Janzo. Got it under control."
They went over more brewing techniques, substitution ingredients, and inventory for almost an hour. Janzo's mind was racing the whole time. He couldn't stop thinking about the girl sleeping just above his lab… or the blood… or the way her blade had snapped up like a viper's fang when he touched her.
Then the tavern doors slammed open.
Garrett.
The commander of the Outpost strode in, tall and sharp in his leather armor. His eyes were like flint—focused and dangerous. He didn't waste time.
"Janzo," he said firmly. "I'm looking for someone."
"Someone?"
"A young woman. Escaped the prison last night. Reports say she was last seen around here. You hear anything?"
Janzo blinked once. Fast. Think.
"Yeah," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "She was here. Caused a bit of a stir—got into a fight with some man. Sliced his arm pretty bad. But she left after that. Haven't seen her since."
Garrett's eyes narrowed. "You sure?"
"Positive. I mean—who'd stick around after spilling blood in a tavern full of mercs, right?"
The commander stared him down for a moment that felt like forever. Then his tone softened, just a little.
"If she shows up again… you let me know. Yeah?"
He gave Janzo a pat on the shoulder. Firm. Friendly. But with weight.
"Of course," Janzo nodded. "Absolutely."
Garrett turned and walked out, his boots heavy against the wooden floorboards.
As soon as he was gone, Janzo didn't waste a breath. He ducked out the back, eyes darting through alleys as he rushed straight for the lab.
He burst through the door.
And there she was.
Lying still. Silent. Wrapped in borrowed blankets and warrior silence. The black blood on her bandage had dulled, but her presence had not. Talon was beautiful in a rough, dangerous way. Her sharp jawline caught the light, and her skin, though tired, glowed faintly in the morning rays seeping through the broken shutters.
Janzo stepped close.
He didn't dare touch her.
"Hey," he said softly. "Talon."
No response.
"Hey… Talon."
She stirred, eyelids fluttering like a warrior waking from battle. Her eyes locked onto his instantly, sharp and guarded. Then, softer.
"What?" she asked groggily, propping herself against the wall.
Janzo crouched beside her. "Garrett… he's looking for you. You're lucky I thought fast."
Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"Why is everyone after you?" he asked quietly. "Is it because you're a fugitive… or because you've got black blood running through your veins?"
Talon didn't answer.
He leaned in just slightly, not threatening—curious.
"Who are you… dear?" he asked, voice gentle but full of concern.
Talon stared past him for a moment, as if remembering a life that had long since been torn apart. Her lips parted, but no name came. Just silence… and the storm behind her eyes.