He had always walked this path alone.
A long stretch of darkness he knew too well. The only things that ever kept him company were the sharp recoil of a gun in his hand and the quiet drip of blood from the dead bodies he left behind.
So when a child suddenly came into the picture, Czar had no idea how to respond. He could read a room in seconds, predict betrayal before it happened, even decide a man's fate without blinking. But this? This was unfamiliar territory.
For once, Czar found himself at a loss.
He exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on the four bodies sprawled across the floor; soaked in blood and marked with fresh torture wounds. The room reeked of iron and sweat.
A gun hung loose in his hand, still warm from the final shots. His men had worked for half an hour breaking them down piece by piece. He had stepped in only at the end finishing what they started.
Normally this would have dragged on for hours.
But not today.
