The Last Navine

Chapter 2

The house in the suburbs of Heartless appeared perfectly ordinary from the outside, but the scene inside told a very different story.

Aunt Francine lay on the living room floor, unable to get back to her feet after the beating she had endured. The furniture had been overturned during the struggle, and several picture frames lay shattered across the room. Despite her condition, her eyes remained fixed on the men standing around her. There were five of them in total, all carrying themselves with the confidence of people who believed nobody would ever hold them accountable for their actions.

The leader of the group was a heavyset man with a scar running across his upper lip. He slowly paced around the room with a metal club resting on his shoulder, occasionally glancing at Francine as though she were nothing more than a piece of entertainment.

"You know, I've been trying to understand something ever since we got here," he said with a faint smile. "What exactly was the point of all this? For ten years you've been running from place to place, changing names, changing addresses, constantly looking over your shoulder. That doesn't sound much like living to me."

Francine said nothing.

The man didn't seem bothered by her silence. In fact, he appeared amused by it.

"Elara Quin offered you opportunities most people would kill for. You could have stayed close to the Navine family, enjoyed a comfortable life, and avoided all this trouble. Instead, you decided to protect two abandoned children who weren't even related to you. Tell me honestly, was it worth it?"

One of the other men laughed and leaned against the wall.

"I've been wondering the same thing. Imagine throwing your entire life away for somebody else's kids. If that isn't stupidity, I don't know what is."

Another man shook his head. "Not just somebody else's kids. The children of people who couldn't even protect themselves."

The room filled with laughter.

Francine waited patiently until the noise died down before finally speaking.

"If I had another chance, I'd do exactly the same thing."

The laughter stopped.

The scar-lipped man stared at her for a moment before chuckling.

"I almost admire that level of stubbornness."

"It's not stubbornness," Francine replied. "It's called having a conscience."

The man's smile faded slightly.

"Careful."

"No," Francine said. "People like you always mistake fear for respect. The truth is that you're nothing but a group of cowards hiding behind Elara Quin's name."

The room instantly became tense.

One of the men stepped forward angrily, but the scar-lipped leader raised a hand to stop him.

Instead of getting angry, he laughed.

"See, this is why I like you. Most people start begging by now."

The others burst into laughter.

One of the men leaned against the wall and took a slow drag from his cigarette before looking down at Francine with a smirk.

"It doesn't matter how much courage you've got left," he said. "The girl is already gone. She left this house a long time ago, and by now she's probably wondering if anyone is coming to save her."

Francine's eyes widened.

"No..."

The men laughed even harder.

The scar-lipped leader shook his head as though he found the situation amusing.

"You really thought you could hide her forever?" he asked. "For ten years you've been running from place to place, changing identities and covering your tracks. I have to admit, you did better than most people would have."

He slowly crossed the room and stopped in front of her.

"But the ending was always going to be the same."

Francine clenched her jaw.

"You're lying."

"Am I?" the man replied. "Then why are you so worried?"

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The silence was enough.

The grin on the man's face widened.

"That's what I thought."

Francine lowered her head, not because she believed him, but because she didn't know what to believe anymore.

The cigarette-smoking thug flicked ash onto the floor and chuckled.

"Honestly, I almost feel bad for the girl. Almost."

The others laughed.

"Almost?" another man asked.

"Yeah. Then I remembered how much money we're getting paid."

That drew another round of laughter.

The scar-lipped leader crouched in front of Francine and rested his elbows on his knees.

"You keep calling us monsters, but we're just doing our jobs. Elara Quin gives an order, and we carry it out. That's how the world works. People with power make decisions. Everyone else lives with the consequences."

Francine glared at him.

"One day you'll answer for everything you've done."

“But here’s the thing. We’ve got very specific orders when it comes to you. First, we’re supposed to break all your limbs.” 

He gestured casually to the others. ”Then, well… the boys here might want to have a little fun with you before we finish the job. See how long you can last.”

One of them pulled out a pair of rusted pliers from the jacket, snapping them open and closed with a menacing click. “After the arms, we’re supposed to pull out your teeth. One by one. Make you chew on them.”

One of the thugs pulled a hunting knife from his belt and held it up with a grin, turning the blade slowly as though he had all the time in the world.

"You know, I really don't understand people like you," he said while looking down at Francine. "Most people would have given up by now. Most people would have told us everything we wanted to know just to make their lives easier, but you keep holding on to this idea that somebody is coming to save you."

The others laughed.

A man standing near the window shook his head. "Maybe she's still waiting for Bran Navine. Ten years have passed and she still believes that kid is going to walk through that door."

That earned another round of laughter.

The scar-lipped leader slowly crouched in front of Francine and rested his forearms on his knees. His expression carried the confidence of a man who had spent his entire life getting whatever he wanted.

"Let's stop wasting each other's time," he said. "You've protected those children long enough. Tell us where Bran Navine is, and maybe we can end this quickly. Refuse, and things become much more unpleasant than they already are."

Francine lifted her head and looked directly into his eyes.

"What makes you think I know where he is?"

The man smiled.

"Because people like you always know. You spent years protecting him and his sister. You hid them, fed them, moved them from city to city, and sacrificed everything for them. You're the closest thing those kids ever had to family."

At the mention of family, something hardened in Francine's gaze.

The scar-lipped man noticed immediately and chuckled.

"There it is. Every time we mention Bran, you react. That's how I know he's still important to you."

Francine remained silent.

The man rose to his feet and began pacing around the room.

"Do you know what's funny? Elara Quin spent years searching for those children. She used money, influence, and connections that most people couldn't even imagine. Yet somehow you kept staying one step ahead of her. Honestly, I almost respected you for it."

One of the thugs laughed.

"Almost?"

"Almost," the man replied. "Then I remembered who she was protecting."

The room filled with laughter again.

Francine listened quietly until the noise died down.

Then she spoke.

"You're all afraid of him."

The laughter stopped.

The scar-lipped leader turned around.

"What did you say?"

Francine looked at each of them in turn.

"You've spent ten years chasing a boy who left with nothing. Ten years later, you still talk about him, still search for him, and still worry about where he might appear. If you weren't afraid of him, you would've stopped caring a long time ago."

For several seconds, nobody said anything.

Then one of the thugs snorted.

"Afraid? Of Bran Navine?"

Another man laughed.

"I'd love to see him show up right now."

The scar-lipped leader shook his head and smiled.

"Even if he walked through that door, what exactly do you think would happen? There are five of us and one of him. This isn't some story where a hero arrives at the last second."

Francine slowly smiled.

It was a small smile, but it was enough to make several of the men uncomfortable.

The leader frowned.

"What's so funny?"

Francine didn't answer. Instead, she looked past him.

The smile on her face widened slightly.

A strange feeling crawled up the back of the man's neck.

Slowly, he turned toward the doorway.

The room fell silent.

Standing at the entrance was a man in a dark military uniform. Dust and travel stains marked the fabric, but none of that drew attention. What drew attention was the way he stood there, completely still, as though the five armed men inside the room weren't worth worrying about.

His eyes swept across the room before settling on Francine.

For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.

Then his gaze shifted to the men surrounding her.

The scar-lipped leader narrowed his eyes.

"And who the hell are you supposed to be?"

The stranger stepped into the room. His boots echoed softly against the floor as he stopped a few feet inside the entrance.

When he finally spoke, his voice was calm enough to make everyone uneasy.

"My name is Bran Navine."

The room froze.

The confidence that had filled the house moments earlier suddenly seemed much less convincing.

One of the thugs stared at him in disbelief.

"You're Bran?"

Bran ignored him completely.

His attention remained fixed on Francine and the injuries she had suffered while protecting his family.

"Step away from my aunt."