The rain had stopped, but Hastings was still dripping. The city smelled of wet stone, smoke, and the faint stench of rot. Luna pulled her knees closer to her chest beneath the rusted fire escape, her chin resting on her arms. She hadn't moved since the men passed by earlier.
Her body was cold, her lips cracked, her stomach aching again. But it wasn't hunger that kept her awake. It was the silence after fear. That silence, heavy and suffocating, that made her relive everything she wanted to forget.
The sound of laughter. The sting of rough hands. The helplessness.
She dug her nails into her skin and shook her head. "Stop. Stop thinking," she whispered. But memory is a cruel parasite. It fed on her no matter how she fought it.
"Still alive, I see."
Her breath caught.
The voice came from the shadows across the alley. Calm. Male. Low.
Her head jerked up. The hooded figure from the bakery was standing there. Taller than she remembered, wrapped in a dark coat, face hidden in the folds of his hood. He leaned casually against the wall, as though he had been watching her all night.
Luna scrambled back until her shoulders pressed against the cold brick. "Stay away from me," she said, her voice trembling.
"If I wanted to hurt you," the man said, his tone flat, "you would already be hurt."
Her heart hammered. The words chilled her more than comforted her.
"Who are you?" she demanded.
"Someone who has been watching." He stepped forward slowly, boots splashing in the shallow puddles. "Someone who knows what you've been through."
Her eyes narrowed, fear mingling with anger. "You don't know anything about me."
The man tilted his head. "I know you've lost everything. I know you've been broken. And I know you're still alive when you shouldn't be."
Her body froze.
The guardian.
Her mind flashed back to the faceless figure who appeared as she lay dying, the voice that had asked her if she wanted to live. It was him. Or it was someone like him.
Her breath grew shallow. "You… you were there."
A low chuckle escaped the hood. "Ah. So you remember."
Luna swallowed hard. She wanted to run, but her legs wouldn't move. She wanted to scream, but no sound came out.
"Why are you here?" she finally whispered.
"To give you a choice."
That word—choice—slid into her like a blade. She had made choices before. To leave her mother. To stop for the boy in rags. To live when she wanted to die. Each choice had led her deeper into pain.
Her voice cracked. "Another choice? Haven't I suffered enough?"
The man crouched in front of her, close enough that she could see the faint curve of his mouth in the shadows. His presence was overwhelming, pressing down on her chest, but his words cut through like fire.
"Suffering is not the end. It is the beginning. Right now, you are weak. You are prey. The world will devour you whole if you remain like this. But you can be something more."
Luna clenched her fists. "What are you saying?"
"I'm offering you a path. A brutal one. But a path that will turn you from hunted into hunter."
Her pulse quickened. She understood what he meant, though he hadn't said the word.
An assassin.
Her mouth went dry. "You want me to… kill people?"
"I want you to learn how to survive," he said coldly. "To survive without fear. To look into the eyes of the monsters who once destroyed you and know they could never do it again. Killing is not the lesson. Power is."
His words lodged in her chest, burning. She hated him for speaking them, because a part of her wanted to believe.
"I'm not… I'm not like that," she whispered. "I can't be a killer."
The man leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You already are. You killed the girl you once were the night you said, 'I want to live.' That girl is dead. What remains is something new. The only question is whether you will control what you've become… or let it consume you."
Tears blurred her vision. She didn't want to admit it, but he was right. The Luna who used to dream of freedom was gone. What was left was something raw, fragile, and furious.
Her voice was small. "And if I refuse?"
The man rose to his full height, a shadow blotting out the weak streetlight. "Then you will die in these alleys, nameless and forgotten. Another wasted soul the city swallows whole."
The silence after his words stretched, heavy as stone.
Luna hugged herself, shivering. She thought of her mother. She thought of the men who had broken her. She thought of the traffickers, the bullet, the pool of blood. She thought of how many times she had been powerless, voiceless, begging for help that never came.
And she thought of the spark—the fire that whispered she could not die useless.
She lifted her chin. Her voice shook, but her words were steady.
"I want to live. I'll take the path."
The man smiled beneath the hood. It was not warm. It was sharp, approving.
"Good." He extended a hand. "Then come with me. Your new life begins tonight."
Luna hesitated, staring at his hand. Everything inside her screamed that this was madness. But what other choice did she have?
Slowly, she placed her trembling hand into his. His grip was firm, unyielding.
As he pulled her to her feet, Luna realized something: she wasn't walking away from her past. She was walking into something far darker.
But she wasn't afraid anymore.
Not as much.