Chapter 11: Eyes That Hunt
Akin sat on the edge of the massive bed, his eyes fixed on the bags of clothes, books, and other items Droko had brought from the mall. They were untouched, still in their shiny bags, mocking him with their normalcy. His mind kept replaying the man at the mall—his rough hands grabbing Akin's arm, his voice low and sickening as he whispered things that made Akin's skin crawl. The memory sent a shiver through him, his hands trembling. "Why does this keep happening?" he muttered, his voice barely audible. "Why can't I just be left alone?"
He hugged his knees, his heart heavy with questions. Would he ever go back to college? See his friends? Walk down the street without looking over his shoulder? Or was this his life now, caged in Rolex Night's mansion like some kind of animal? "I don't belong here," he whispered, his throat tight. "Dad, why did you do this to me?" He lay back, closing his eyes, willing sleep to take him. Maybe tomorrow would be different. Maybe.
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Hours later, Akin stirred, half-asleep, as a soft blanket settled over him. A warm hand brushed his waist, gentle, almost careful. A low voice whispered near his ear, rough but heavy with something like regret. "I'm sorry, kid," it said. "I didn't mean for this."
Akin's eyes snapped open, his heart racing. Rolex. But the room was dark, and the door was already clicking shut. He sat up, his breath fast. "What was that?" he said, his voice shaking. "Why's he sorry? What's he playing at?"
He rubbed his face, trying to make sense of it. Rolex, the man who'd bought him, who'd pinned him down, apologizing? It didn't add up. He lay back down, his mind spinning, sleep no longer an option.
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The next day, Akin was sweeping the mansion's main hall, the broom heavy in his hands. It was one of Rolex's rules—keep the place clean. The hall was huge, all cold stone and tall ceilings, making him feel small, like he didn't belong. He noticed Rolex in the corner, talking to a stranger—a tall man with slick hair and sharp, predatory eyes. The man kept staring at Akin, his gaze lingering too long, making Akin's skin prickle. He tried to focus on sweeping, but the man's eyes followed him, unblinking, like a hunter sizing up prey.
"Who's that kid over there?" the man asked, his voice loud, cutting through the hall. He nodded toward Akin, a smirk curling his lips.
Rolex glanced at Akin, his eyes cold but guarded. "Why do you care, Warco?" he said, his voice sharp. "What's it to you?"
Warco laughed, leaning back in his chair. "Just curious, man," he said. "Come on, Rolex, he's human. A real, breathing human in your house. What's the deal?"
Akin's hands tightened on the broom, his heart pounding. He kept his head down, pretending to sweep, but he was listening. Rolex's voice was steady, but there was an edge to it. "I know he's human," he said. "So what?"
"So what?" Warco said, his laugh louder now. "You're telling me you've got a human here and he's still alive? You, Rolex Night, who tears through humans like paper? That's not like you."
Akin's breath caught, fear clawing at his chest. Tear through humans? Was that what Rolex did? His hands shook, the broom wobbling. "What are they talking about?" he whispered to himself, his voice trembling.
"He's my slave," Rolex said, his voice flat, dangerous. "He's useful. Why would I kill him?"
Warco slapped his knee, grinning. "Useful? Come on, Rolex," he said. "You're going soft. Something's off about this. You don't keep pets unless there's a reason."
Akin's heart raced. Slave? Pet? He glanced up, catching Rolex's eyes. They were cold, but there was something else there—a flicker of conflict, like he was hiding something. "Warco," Rolex said, his voice low, warning. "You're asking too many questions. Drop it."
"I'm just saying," Warco said, his tone teasing. "Give him to me. A human like that? I could use him. Bet he'd sell for a lot, too."
Akin's blood went cold. Sell him? Again? "No," he whispered, his voice barely audible, his hands gripping the broom so hard his knuckles hurt. "Not again."
Rolex stood, his chair scraping the floor. "Warco," he said, his voice like ice. "He's not for sale. Not to you, not to anyone."
"Why not?" Warco said, standing too, his smirk fading. "What's so special about this kid? You're hiding something, Rolex. I can tell."
"Enough!" Rolex snapped, his eyes flashing red for a split second. "You're done here. Get out."
Warco chuckled, raising his hands. "Alright, alright," he said. "I'll go. But you're acting weird, man. Real weird. Keep your secrets, but I'm watching." He shot Akin a final, sharp smile, his eyes gleaming, before walking out.
Akin stood frozen, his heart pounding. "What was that about?" he muttered, his voice shaking. Warco's smile lingered in his mind, creepy and knowing, like he'd seen something he wasn't supposed to. Akin's hands trembled as he went back to sweeping, his mind racing. Who was that guy? And why did he talk about Rolex killing humans?
Time dragged on, and Akin finished cleaning, his body aching. He headed to his room to change, the bags of new clothes still untouched. He was almost there when he bumped into a hard chest. He stumbled, nearly falling, but strong hands caught him. He looked up, his heart stopping. Warco, not Rolex, stood there, his sharp eyes glinting.
"Whoa, easy, kid," Warco said, his voice smooth, too friendly. "You okay? Didn't mean to scare you."
Akin nodded quickly, his throat tight. "I'm fine," he said, stepping back. "Just leave me alone."
"Relax," Warco said, his smile widening. "I'm just being nice. You look like you need a friend in this place. Rolex's not exactly the warm type, is he?"
"I don't need a friend," Akin said, his voice sharp. "I just want to be left alone."
Warco stepped closer, his voice dropping. "Come on, don't be like that," he said. "I could help you, you know. Get you out of here, maybe."
Akin's heart raced, but before he could answer, a rough hand yanked him back. He stumbled, crashing into Rolex's chest. Rolex's eyes were cold, glowing faintly red, his jaw tight with fury. "Warco," he said, his voice low, deadly. "Take your hands off him. Now."
Warco raised his hands, smirking. "Easy, Rolex," he said. "I was just talking to the kid. No need to get possessive."
"You don't touch him," Rolex growled, stepping between Akin and Warco. "He's mine. You lay a hand on him again, you're dead."
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