After almost an hour of sex, the room smelled of sweat and something older, faded perfume clinging to the thin curtains. The small bed creaked softly as Dafne lay flat on her back, her body warm but her face carved into stone. Her eyes stared at the cracked ceiling above them, expressionless, as though she hadn’t just spent almost an hour tangled with Rabiu.Beside her, Rabiu lay sprawled, chest heaving, beads of sweat glistening in the dim bulb’s light. His grin was wide, foolish, his teeth flashing in satisfaction as he gazed up at the same ceiling she did. He laughed breathlessly, the sound rumbling in his throat.“Damn…” he whispered, licking his lips. “That was… that was something else. Sweetest thing I’ve had all week. Your pussy, Dafne…” he chuckled again, turning his head toward her, “it’s like it was made to keep me alive.”Her lips didn’t move. Not a smile. Not a smirk. Just silence.He went on, still basking in his own thrill. “You hear me? Tight… wet… perfect. You wore me

Dafne slipped into the dressing room, the heavy door shutting behind her with a muted thud that echoed in her chest. The faint scent of perfume, powder, and stale alcohol clung to the air, wrapping itself around her like a second skin. Rows of costumes hung on a rack by the mirror, shimmering under the fluorescent light, feathers, sequins, and lace in garish colors meant to dazzle under stage lights.Her hand trembled as she reached out and brushed a red sequin bra paired with a thin skirt of glittering tassels. The fabric scratched against her fingertips, alien and cold. She pulled it from the hanger, holding it against herself, and let out a breath that came out shakier than she intended. Sitting on the padded stool in front of the mirror, she let the costume slide into her lap.Her eyes followed the curve of her reflection. Her shoulders sagged, her back curved inward as if gravity itself pressed heavier tonight. She pressed the costume tighter against her knees, her jaw tightening

The streetlights buzzed faintly in the dim night as Dafne pushed the glass door open and slipped inside the tiny open store. Her stomach growled louder than her footsteps, and for a moment, she shut her eyes and inhaled the faint smell of fried dough wafting from behind the counter.Her throat was dry. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast.She grabbed two cans of instant noodles from the shelf, hugging them close like precious treasure. At the counter, she dropped a few crumpled bills and murmured, “Keep the change,” before darting outside.A shaky wooden table sat in the shadows just beside the store. Dafne sat there, shoulders hunched, legs folded close, keeping her face hidden beneath the loose strands of her dark hair. She quickly popped the lid of the can, chewing hungrily, tearing into the noodles like someone who had fought her own pride just to eat. She tilted her head low, almost burying her face, as if the world couldn’t see her if she couldn’t see them.The street bustled faint

In one smooth motion, Zach sidestepped, grabbed his opponent’s arm, and slammed him onto the floor. The breath left the man in a painful grunt as Zach planted his boot on his chest.Before Zach could say anything, the wail of distant sirens split the night.“Police!” The man shouted, disappearing into his car and zooming off in fear.Panic spread instantly. The remaining conscious men scrambled to their feet, exchanging quick, terrified glances. Without another word, they bolted, disappearing into different alleys like frightened rats.Zach stood alone, breathing heavily but composed. He glanced down at the blood on his knuckles, clicking his tongue in annoyance.“Messy,” he muttered under his breath.He bent down, picked up the fallen baton, and twirled it once before tossing it aside with deliberate disdain. Pulling out a folded handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped the crimson smears from his hand slowly, methodically, as though erasing a nuisance rather than cleaning an injury.W

Barbara’s lips trembled, but she finally gave a shaky nod. “O-Okay…”“Good,” McDonald said softly. “Now let us work.”They carried Zach carefully up the spiral staircase and into his bedroom, laying him gently on the bed. Barbara stood nearby, wringing her hands as Dr. Kieran opened Zach’s shirt and inspected the deep wound along his forearm.“It’s not too bad,” Dr. Kieran murmured, cleaning the area with swift precision before stitching it neatly. “He’s lost some blood… but that isn’t the real issue.”Barbara’s brow furrowed. “Then what is?”“His inner energy’s clashing,” Dr. Kieran explained calmly, his voice clinical yet reassuring. “He’s been pushing himself too hard, forcing his body beyond its limits. The collapse was inevitable. He just needs rest, and my treatment will stabilize him.”Barbara swallowed hard, nodding faintly, though her knuckles turned white where she clutched the edge of the nightstand. She watched every rise and fall of Zach's chest as she watched Dr. Kieran