"She was almost gone—until he said her name."_Unknown
Noelle lay sprawled on the cold tiles of the mall car park, trying to stifle her sobs. Pain tore through her thigh, blood pouring freely from the bullet wound. Every breath felt like glass in her chest, but she forced herself to stay awake.
She couldn't pass out.
Maeve was gone.
With trembling fingers, she reached for her handbag, fumbling through the contents until she found her phone. Her vision blurred as she tapped Anton's contact and hit dial.
He picked up on the first ring.
"Noelle?"
Her voice trembled. "Anton… they took her. They took Maeve."
His silence was instant. Cold.
"We were at the mall," she continued, her words spilling over each other. "Katya left us and never came back. Then these men—they had guns, they… they shot me and dragged Maeve into a car. They didn't even hide their faces."
Anton swore under his breath. "Did you see anything? Symbols? License plate?"
"T-Tattoos. Snake around a dagger. One had it on his neck."
He closed his eyes, jaw tightening. "Fuck."
The BSCs.
He was already moving, barking orders before the call ended. "I'm sending someone to you now. They'll take you to the hospital. Stay conscious."
He didn't wait for a reply. He stormed through the estate, fury in every step, until he burst into Levi's study.
Levi looked up from his desk, his eyes locking onto Anton's face.
"They took Maeve," Anton said.
Silence. Like the eye of a storm.
Then Levi stood. Slowly. Controlled. But the rage was undeniable.
"They took her?" he said, his voice low, deadly calm. "They think this is a game?"
Anton didn't speak.
Levi turned to him, voice like steel.
"Ready the men."
"Levi—"
"I said ready the fucking men."
There was no hesitation in his next words.
"They've declared war. I'll burn every last one of them down."
***
Pain.
That was all there was.
Needles. Whips. Endless questions.
Minutes? Hours? Days?
Time bled together. Maeve no longer knew what part of herself was still intact. Her cream blouse had long turned red. Her hand had gone limp, nerves no longer responding. Blood stained the floor like a signature of suffering.
She hung in the manacles again—arms raised above her head, body sagging toward the cold concrete. Her legs barely supported her weight anymore.
She had stopped crying.
No one was coming. She had no one. No one that cared. The only two people she ever loved had left her.
Raised alone. Live alone. Die alone.
The truth of that breaking her heart. She had always been a dead weight, causing trouble for others.
The metal door opened again.
Light seared her eyes.
But this time… it was two of them.
"Damn," the second man said, his voice like oil slicking the room. "She's still a pretty little thing. Even like this."
Maeve's body tensed. She tried to hide what little of herself she could. Her arms strained against the chains.
"You sure we don't get a taste before she's completely broken?" the man asked the one who had tortured her.
He approached, licking his cracked lips like a predator circling his prey.
Maeve whimpered, eyes wide with fear.
"Please…" she whispered. "Please don't… I don't know anything. Please…"Her throat dry.
Those words had now become a mantra.
"Oh, don't cry, love," the second man sneered. "I'm here to make you feel good."
Laughter echoed.
The first man pulled a lever near the wall. Chains rattled. Maeve's body was dragged upward by her wrists until she stood, barely on her tiptoes, arms suspended. The strain made her scream.
"PLEASE—don't do this!" she cried, desperation choking her.
But they didn't care. Monsters never did.
Her clothes went first.
Then, her dignity.
She cried and screamed, until she couldn't anymore.
---
Maeve's hands had gone limp from the strain, blood crusted beneath her nails. Her arms throbbed, her body screaming silently, but her mind—her mind had drifted.
She couldn't bear to look down at herself. Not at what they'd done. So she closed her eyes.
And there she was.
A little girl, her head nestled in her mother's lap. Her mother's fingers gently combed through her hair, the familiar scent of lavender and safety clinging to the memory.
Her mother had the prettiest eyes — one was sky blue, the other was gray. Soft and shimmering. Maeve had inherited one of the colors. It was the only thing she truly liked about herself.
Her mum had been singing.
A lullaby.
The one about the princess and her crown.
Sparkle, sparkle, princess crown,
Shiny jewels all around.
On her head it rests so bright,
Glowing with the morning light.
Maeve hummed the words silently in her head, letting the melody soothe the wreckage of her body.
She missed her mum.
She wanted to go to her.
The vision shifted.
She saw her mother again—this time in a flowing white gown, standing in a field of tall grass and golden sunlight, arms outstretched.
"Come here, Maeve,"
her mother whispered.
She took a step forward.
Then the doors burst open.
A thundering crash.
Maeve didn't flinch. She was too tired. Too far gone.
But she heard the voice.
Raw. Angry. Broken.
"Bloody hell—Maeve."
Levi.
He stumbled forward, red splattered on his hands and shirt. His hair was a mess, face streaked with blood, rage and panic. His eyes locked onto her broken frame, and everything in him stilled.
Without hesitation, he slammed the lever, lowering the chains.
She fell into his arms like a lifeless doll.
Levi tore off his jacket, wrapping it gently around her trembling form.
"I'm here. I'm here,"
he whispered, holding her like breakable glass.
When his hand touched her skin, her body flinched. The pain was unbearable.
Slowly, she opened her eyes—just enough to meet his.
She stared at his brown eyes. It reminded her of the woods. When she and her parents used to go for hiking. Before her world collapsed.
She missed the woods.
"No one is going to harm you again, Maeve,"
Levi said, voice low, calm, like a vow etched in blood.
She smiled faintly.
Silly man.
Why would anyone want to hurt her?
Then she closed her eyes—
and slipped into the quietness.