Three days passed without incident.
Lux didn't spark again.
Varik's hand healed enough for him to tease without wincing.
And Gavin kept their routine tight: morning scouting, midday scrapping, night rotation.
But tension simmered beneath it all.
The boys felt it.
Even the alleys felt sharper.
On the fourth morning, Lux woke with sweat along his hairline—a strange contrast to the chill. Gavin noticed immediately.
"You hot?" he asked.
"A little. But not like before."
"Let me know if it changes."
They went out early to gather metal again. Their usual route. Quiet. Predictable. Safe—mostly.
Halfway across an old drainage canal, Varik stiffened. "Someone's behind us."
Gavin slowed his pace without turning. "How many?"
"One."
"Following or shadowing?"
"Shadowing. Badly."
Lux whispered, "Do we run?"
"No," Gavin said. "We draw them in."
They split at the next junction—Varik taking the left path, Gavin taking the right with Lux. The unseen follower hesitated… then went after Gavin and Lux.
Predictable.
Gavin stopped walking and turned slowly.
A man in poorly patched armor stepped out from behind a beam. The man was obviously in his late forties which was a rarity out here in the slums where most did as young adults. The blue tattoo of a wolf on his bald head made his already hard to look at face even more undesirable, he's of the Frostwalkers from before, the same one whose wrist Gavin had nearly broken, Bulag.
He wasn't smiling now.
"You've got some nerve, you little shit" the man growled. "Breaking bones, running your mouths… think you're tough?"
"You, Gavin was it, we took your sorry ass in when you were just a scrawny little turd dying on the steel and this is how you repay us." Bulag outraged.
"Your kind would have fed me to the dogs if you were bored enough, I'm glad I ditch you when I had the chance." Gavin retorted with calmness in his voice.
"I'm gonna fuck you up kid." Bulag cursed as he prepared to swing at Davin.
However, Varik reappeared behind him, silent as a shadow.
Gavin nodded once.
The fight was short.
The man lunged at Gavin, swinging wildly. Gavin deflected with a raised arm and countered with a quick strike to the jaw. Lux ducked behind a pipe. Varik swept the man's legs out with a low pivot, sending him crashing hard.
He tried to rise.
Gavin kicked his arm out from under him—clean, controlled.
Varik stepped in, pressing the shiv to the side of the man's neck.
Not threatening.
Promising.
"No more follow-ups," Gavin said. "No more ambushes. Tell your friends that."
The man spat blood at Gavin's boots. "You think this ends here?"
"No," Gavin said calmly. "I think it ends when you stop breathing. We're deciding not to do that."
The man stared.
Then lowered his eyes.
"Now go," Varik said.
The attacker scrambled away, limping.
Lux stepped out hesitantly. "You think he'll come back?"
"Maybe," Gavin said. "But not alone."
Varik blew air through his teeth. "Fucking great."
They continued down the pathway, tension thick but steady. Lux stayed close, not out of fear, but because he trusted Gavin's silhouette more than the empty road.
When they reached a safer clearing, Gavin finally let himself relax, barely.
"You two okay?" he asked.
Varik nodded. "You?"
"Fine."
Lux looked between them. "Gavin… I didn't heat up that time."
"You didn't need to," Gavin said. "And that's good."
"Why?"
"Because whatever's happening to you isn't a weapon unless you lose control. Use it when you choose to. Not when fear chooses for you."
Lux nodded slowly, understanding settling in.
And that night, when Gavin took first watch, he noticed something he hadn't before—
Every time Lux inhaled,
the air around him warmed by a fraction.
Barely noticeable.
But real.
Not a coincidence.
Not a fluke.
A beginning.