Mina yanked off her heel and flung it across the road in pure frustration. Her feet throbbed, and she was done pretending. Limping barefoot across sharp gravel, she didn't care about the sting. Her legs trembled with every step, but she told them to keep moving. Home. And by home, she meant Lysa. She was all that mattered.
Suddenly, her thoughts drifted to the girl she'd knocked out—the one whose dress she was now wearing. A quiet pang of guilt nudged her chest, but she shrugged it off. She'd gone too far to turn back now. The girl was alive—she left her breathing in that alley. That was more than some people would've done.
"What's the point of thinking about that now?" she muttered. "I've come too far to start feeling bad."
All she wanted now was to return to that shabby excuse of a home she shared with Lysa. Hopefully, Lysa wasn't awake. Mina had stayed out longer than planned, and she didn't have the energy for explanations.
As she walked, the night breeze hit her skin, sending chills down her spine. The dress clung tightly—short, stiff, and definitely not designed for sneaking through quiet neighborhoods. Every sound—barking dogs, passing cars, even the wind—made her glance over her shoulder.
"Damn heels," she hissed, holding the second one in her hand. They were cute, sure, but not worth the pain. Barefoot peace was better than stylish suffering.
The closer she got, the heavier her thoughts became. What even happened back there? That woman… her voice, her presence—it wasn't just fear. It was something else. Something strange. Mina felt relieved she'd refused to go with her. Something about her had been... off.
She scoffed, remembering Raya's words: "Take me somewhere."
"What a pompous woman," she muttered—then paused. She's actually hot…
"Ughhh," she groaned.
And the way that woman had looked at her—like she was seeing every cracked part of her soul. Like she was peeling her apart without a word.
"Ughhhh," Mina groaned again, rubbing her temple. "Get out of my head already."
She crossed into the old part of the neighborhood—broken fences, scattered trash. A cat leapt from a trash can, making her flinch. She cursed under her breath and picked up her pace.
Finally, she reached their shelter. Scrap walls. Loose zinc sheets rattling with the wind. Their "home."
She unlocked the door slowly, praying not to wake Lysa. But the house was quiet. Too quiet.
She stepped in, gently closed the door—then froze.
"Where the hell have you been?" Lysa's voice cut through the silence, shaky with tears.
Mina's breath caught. Lysa was awake.
"Uhm… I went on a job," she muttered.
"Job?" Lysa's brow lifted, eyes trailing the tight dress. "Who gave you that dress? Mina… you're not selling your body, right?"
Her voice trembled. She looked scared—like just imagining it hurt.
Mina sighed, pulling crumpled notes from inside the dress.
"You stole?" Lysa's voice cracked, wide-eyed.
"Uhm… no. Okay—yes. I did. But not from the poor or anything," Mina blurted, stumbling over her words. "It was some rich dude. He didn't even notice."
"Mina, I warned you. Don't do that again. One day they'll catch you, and then what? I'll be alone."
"Don't say that," Mina said firmly. "You're all I've got, Lysa. You're my home. I had to do something. It wasn't smart, but I got this off some guy. It'll last us a week. At least we'll eat."
Lysa stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her, shaking.
"I was so scared, Mina…"
Mina hugged her back, gently rubbing her sister's spine.
"And also… you look hot in this," Lysa teased, pulling away with a smile. "One day, you'll wear classier dresses like this."
Mina smiled faintly. "I hope so."
But her mind drifted back to that strange woman—the tall one with dark hair and burning amber eyes.
Ughhh, she groaned silently. Get out of my head.
"What?" Lysa asked.
"Nothing," Mina forced a laugh. "Just… tired."
"Don't worry," Lysa said, studying her. "Tomorrow, we'll be fine."
"I'll finally get you that ice cream," Mina offered, trying to lighten the mood. "And I'll look for a job too. I washed that old shirt and jeans. Worn-out, but they'll work."
Lysa laughed. "You look like a runaway in that outfit. A real crazy woman."
"What do you expect?" Mina shrugged. "Our money's for food, not fashion."
"No, Mina," Lysa said softly, serious now. "Use the money. Get jeans, a shirt, decent shoes. Look at what you've been wearing—those shoes are falling apart." She nodded toward the corner.
Mina glanced down. She couldn't argue.
"I don't want ice cream," Lysa added. "You'll get me plenty someday when you've made it. I'm nineteen, not five. I'll live."
Tears welled up in Mina's eyes. She pulled Lysa into a tighter hug.
"You're too good for this world," she whispered. "I don't deserve you."
"Shut up," Lysa smiled. "You're all I've got too."
"I'll buy food tomorrow," Mina whispered. "Sometimes I wish I could cook you something nice… but we don't even have a kitchen. And I suck at cooking."
"You'll get a private chef someday," Lysa grinned. "I know life will smile at us. One day."
Mina chuckled, wiping her tears. "One day."
"Come on," Lysa whispered. "Rest now."
They lay down, curled into each other. Two broken souls holding on to hope.
Each other—that's all they had.
---—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Damn it," one rogue muttered under his breath. The alley was quiet now, except for the low buzz of neon signs and the distant hum of traffic.
The four of them were now just three.
"He always wanted to taste mortal pussy," the rogue said bitterly. "I warned him. Told him to lay the fuck low. We don't even know Drakhalia's full plan yet. But no… he just had to go out creeping."
He scoffed, spitting on the ground. "Now he's roasted the fuck up, and it's just us left. No sign of Vaelrix either. Just silence."
The second one crossed his arms, eyes scanning the street. "I don't even care about revenge anymore. Fuck revenge. I just want to stay alive and far from her sight. You know what she can do. She won't even blink before torching us too."
"I'm leaving," the third rogue said suddenly.
"Leaving?" the second looked at him. "To where?"
"Away from here. Mortals don't only work in New York. I'll find another city."
"You out of your mind? She'll get you before you leave."
"No, she won't. I've got magic. Got a fake ID too. Y'all can keep hiding here. I'm gone."
The second rogue smirked. "Yeah… he's gonna die."
"Go on," the other said.
"Whatever. I don't need your opinion," the third rogue snapped—and just like that, he left.