“I know,” Ethan said.“Then let us clear the room, let's make these men pay for insulting in such manner.”“No.”The escort stared at him for half a second. “They are insulting you to your face.”Ethan finally touched the glass in front of him, though he still did not drink. “No,” he said. “They are insulting the version of me they were given tonight.”Ethan’s fingers rested lightly against the glass, steady, unmoving. Not a single tremor betrayed what sat beneath his calm. He had learned long ago that anger, once seen, was already spent. Power was not in reaction. Power was in restraint.At the center table, the broad-shouldered man slammed his palm down. “Listen to me. If Ethan Xavier had any honor, he would show his face to the people whose sons he is sending to die.”“He won’t,” the scar-mouthed man said. “Men like that never do.”A few heads nodded, not because they knew the truth, but because it felt right to agree. In rooms like this, certainty spread faster than reason. It o

“Please! Save me! They’re trafficking me!”The words hit the street like a gunshot. A stray dog near the gutter flinched and darted away, its nails scraping against the concrete. The air itself seemed to tighten, as if the street had suddenly become too small for what was about to happen.For one sharp second, nobody moved. The men froze. The fruit seller across the road finally looked up properly. One of the boys by the kiosk cursed under his breath. Even the traffic noise seemed to pull back, as if the whole night had heard the truth and did not know what to do with it.Ethan stepped forward.His shoes made a soft, steady sound against the asphalt. Not hurried. Not hesitant. Each step carried the quiet certainty of a man who had already decided how this would end.He did not look surprised. He did not look dramatic. He only looked at the man holding the girl as though the world had suddenly become much simpler.“That girl is coming with me,” he said.There was no force in his voice

“Please… don’t kill me…”The trafficker’s voice shook so badly it barely sounded human. Blood ran from his mouth onto the pavement in thin, dark threads. His hands were raised, weak and trembling, while the rest of him tried to crawl backward without enough strength to do it properly.His fingers slipped against the pavement, leaving thin streaks of blood behind him. Every attempt to move only seemed to remind his body how badly it had failed him.Ethan stood over him in silence.The silence pressed down heavier than any threat. It made the man’s fear grow faster, because nothing in Ethan’s face suggested mercy or anger—only decision.Behind him, the rescued girl stumbled forward two small steps before one of Ethan's enforcers caught her by the shoulders and steadied her. She was crying without control now, her body shaking hard enough to make her knees knock together.Her breaths came in short, broken pulls, like her lungs had forgotten how to keep a steady rhythm. Even standing fe

The shot left the street empty of sound.Even the echoes seemed to hesitate, as if the night itself was deciding whether to carry the sound any further.For one hard second, nobody moved. The wounded trafficker’s body jerked once and then dropped flat against the pavement. Blood spread beneath him in a dark, quick stain. The rescued girl gasped and covered her mouth. One of the boys by the kiosk stumbled back into the wall behind him. Even the fruit seller froze with both hands locked around the edge of her table.Ethan lowered the gun.The weapon did not tremble in his hand. It never did. That was part of what made men fear him more than the shot itself.His face did not change. His breathing was steady, but the air around him had shifted completely. The trafficker on the ground who had begged for mercy let out a broken sound, half sob and half choke, and pressed himself harder against the road as though distance could still save him.One of the escorts stepped in at once. “Sir?”

The convoy reached Renham Hospital through a wall of noise.Sirens cut through the night while armored vehicles pushed past stalled civilian cars, medical vans, and clusters of people who had flooded the streets around the hospital grounds. The closer they came, the thicker the crowd became. Some people were crying. Some were shouting. Some only stood and stared at the smoke rising into the dark sky as if their minds had not yet accepted what their eyes were seeing.“Move back! Clear the road!” a Tribunal soldier shouted from the lead vehicle.Another soldier leaned out from the second truck and pointed toward the curb. “Back! All of you, back!”The crowd gave way in uneven waves. Some of them stepped aside quickly. Others moved slower, angry at being pushed but too afraid not to obey. The convoy forced a lane through them and rolled toward the shattered entrance.“That’s Tribunal command,” someone in the crowd murmured.“Someone important is here,” another voice answered.When Etha