Draven stood still for a moment after sealing the bars.
Then he spoke.
"That woman said she'd be coming back."
He shifted slightly, lowering himself to sit against the cold stone wall.
"So… we'll wait."
Simple. Decided. Unwavering.
He rested one arm over his knee, his gaze unfocused but clearly lost in thought.
"Until then…"
His eyes shifted toward the boy.
"…talk."
The boy hesitated for a heartbeat, then nodded.
"…My name is—"
"Shut up."
The word cut through the air like steel.
The boy froze.
Draven's expression didn't change.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
His tone was flat, annoyed.
"I didn't ask for your life story."
The boy's ears lowered slightly.
"I just—"
Draven cut him off again.
"I'm not asking you to introduce your entire damn family."
His eyes sharpened.
"I'm asking about the people who captured you."
A brief silence stretched between them.
"Focus."
The pressure in his voice returned, heavy and precise.
"Numbers. Abilities."
Another pause.
"Anything useful."
The boy swallowed, straightening his posture as he collected his thoughts. His ears twitched once.
"The one leading them…"
"…her name is Serethra."
He glanced toward the corridor.
"She's the strongest."
His claws curled slightly.
"High-level magic. Fast casting… multiple spells at once."
A breath.
"The others? Just her subordinates."
He hesitated. Then added, "…There are more."
Draven didn't react.
"So… you don't know the exact number," the boy continued.
"But this place…"
His voice lowered, careful.
"…it's not just a prison."
A faint pause.
"They bring people here."
His jaw tightened.
"And not all of them leave alive."
Draven listened in silence. Then he exhaled softly.
"So… you don't know shit."
His tone was blunt, unfiltered.
The boy stiffened.
Draven leaned back against the wall slightly, eyes half-lidded.
"Those six… even that woman…"
A small pause.
"They're small fries."
His gaze shifted forward again.
"This is bigger than them."
The words settled heavily in the quiet cell.
"People don't build something like this… move this many prisoners… run operations like this…"
A faint tilt of his head.
"…without something larger behind it."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Do you at least know why they're capturing people?"
"Slavery? Experiments? Trade?"
Another pause.
"…Or how big this place is?"
The boy clenched his fists, then shook his head.
"…I don't know."
His voice was tight.
"I wasn't here before."
A breath.
"This is my first time."
His ears lowered slightly.
"They brought us to the city only yesterday."
Draven went silent, thinking. Processing.
Yesterday. That meant—
This wasn't a long-term holding site for the boy. They had just arrived.
His eyes flicked briefly toward the corridor beyond the bars.
"…Then this isn't the main site," he murmured, quieter now, more certain.
"Just a holding point."
Another pause.
"They move people."
His fingers tapped lightly against his knee.
"Which means transport routes. Schedules. Patterns. Weak points."
Everything began to line up.
The boy watched him carefully.
"…Can you save her?"
The question slipped out before he could stop it.
Draven didn't answer immediately. He just kept looking ahead, calculating.
Then—
"We'll see."
His gaze returned to the boy.
"So you were brought here by an airship."
The boy nodded immediately.
"…Yes."
Draven's eyes narrowed slightly. Air transport. Organized movement. Not random.
*Traffickers… or something deeper?*
His fingers tapped once against his knee, then he asked—
"You and the one you're looking for… your sister. When you were captured, was there a reason you were separated?"
The boy's body tensed. His ears lowered slightly.
"…Yeah."
His voice came quieter this time.
"They didn't treat us the same."
A pause.
"They checked everyone."
His claws tightened.
"Like… examining."
Draven said nothing.
The boy swallowed.
"When they got to her…"
His jaw clenched. A flicker of anger crossed his face.
"They stopped."
"They said she was 'special.'"
The word hung in the air. Heavy. Unpleasant.
"They took her away right there."
Another pause.
"I tried to follow…"
His fists clenched tighter.
"…that's when they beat me and threw me in with the others."
Silence settled over the cell again.
Draven didn't move, but his eyes sharpened.
*Special.*
That confirmed it. This wasn't random capture. There was selection. Purpose.
He leaned back slightly.
"…Then she's not here."
His voice was calm. Certain.
"She's deeper in… or somewhere more important."
The boy looked up at him, hope and dread flashing across his face.
Draven's gaze shifted toward the corridor once more.
This time, there was a faint, dangerous focus behind his eyes.
"Good."
Draven's gaze stayed fixed forward.
"Tell me more about that woman."
A pause.
"…And why she keeps calling you 'darling.'"
The boy stiffened. His ears lowered. For a long moment, he didn't speak.
Then—
"…She's crazy."
His voice was tight. Controlled—but barely.
"It started the day I got caught."
His claws pressed into his palms.
"They didn't just lock me up."
A breath.
"They brought me to her."
His jaw clenched.
"She kept asking questions… over and over…"
His ears twitched back, remembering.
"When I didn't answer the way she wanted…"
A pause. His voice dropped.
"…she hurt me."
Silence filled the cell.
Draven didn't interrupt.
The boy continued.
"She didn't rush it."
His breathing slowed slightly, but his eyes darkened.
"She'd take her time."
"Break something… cut me… burn me…"
His claws trembled.
"…then heal me."
Another pause.
"Potions."
His voice hardened.
"She'd feed me just enough to recover…"
"So she could do it again."
A faint tremor ran through him.
"And the whole time…"
His ears flattened completely.
"…she was smiling."
Silence settled heavily between them.
Draven's expression didn't change. But his eyes grew colder.
The boy looked away slightly.
"…That's why she calls me that."
A bitter edge slipped into his voice.
"Because to her…"
A pause.
"…I'm not a person."
Draven didn't react immediately. He just watched. Silent.
Then—
"What kind of questions?"
The boy looked away. His ears lowered again. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he let out a quiet breath.
"…She keeps asking…"
His voice was strained.
"If I… if I love her."
A pause.
"If she's beautiful."
His claws tightened slightly.
"…Stuff like that."
His expression twisted with frustration.
"And if I don't answer the way she wants…"
He didn't finish. Didn't need to. The silence said it all.
Draven's gaze didn't waver. But something in his eyes sharpened—colder, more focused.
"…Obsessive type," he muttered, like a conclusion.
Not sympathy. Not anger. Just fact.
But behind that calm—his mind was already moving.
Because people like that—were predictable.
And predictable people—were easy to break.
Draven's gaze drifted back to the dim corridor beyond the bars.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then—
"We're not moving."
His voice was calm. Decided.
"Stay here."
He shifted slightly against the wall, settling in as if this were just another pause in a long road.
"…And wait until she comes back."
The boy looked at him, confused.
"Wait? Shouldn't we—"
Draven didn't even turn.
"No."
Flat. Final.
"She's the one with access."
A brief pause.
"Information. Movement. Authority in this place."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"If we move blindly, we waste time."
Another pause.
"If we wait…"
A faint shift in his posture.
"…she'll come to us."
Silence followed.
The boy stared for a moment longer. Then slowly looked away. His ears twitched once.
He didn't fully understand the plan—but he understood one thing:
Draven wasn't trapped.
He was waiting.
And that, somehow, felt worse for anyone who walked through that door.