"There's nothing you could offer me, young man," the prisoner said with a scoff, his voice thick with disdain and the faint undertone of pain. "Your little tricks and promises mean nothing to a man who has already lost everything."
Lucas didn't flinch at the words. He remained still, his gaze steady, his expression unreadable. He had expected resistance, but that didn't make the moment any less significant. He took a slow step closer, letting the weight of his next words settle between them like a sharp blade drawn in silence.
"What if I offer you what you lost?" Lucas said, his voice even, not a hint of jest or uncertainty.
The man raised a brow, confusion flashing through his battered features before being quickly masked by derision. Then, with a low grunt, he let out a short, humorless laugh.
