In the cold, shadow-drenched underground parking lot, the Kurosaki women remained huddled together like a flock of terrified birds.
The air was thick with the scent of stale exhaust and the metallic tang of fear.
Surrounding them was a perimeter of guards, men with hollow eyes and cruel smiles, clutching batons and firearms with a casual, practiced malice.
"Boss... look at them. These are truly high-quality women," one of the guards whispered, his eyes lingering on a young Kurosaki girl shivering near the center of the group as he licked his lips, his voice thick with a dark, suppressed hunger. "The Mister usually lets us have the leftovers, but surely a few of these wouldn't be missed if we had a little fun first?"
The leader of the guard unit, a man with a jagged scar running down his jaw, the one kicked by Mister and ordered by Roriko, spun around and glared at the subordinate with such ferocity that the younger man recoiled.
