Chapter 12: A Slow And Gruesome End
The air grew thicker, their shared depravity a poison seeping into the warehouse. But one man, lurking at the edge of the group, spoke up, his voice a low, unsettling murmur.
"Charlotte’s fine, but I was eyeing the other one, the little girl with the ribbon." His lips curled into a sickening smile. "That’s more my type."
The older man whipped his head around, his face twisting in disgust. "She was a kid, you freak! How could you even—" He stopped, his words faltering as he realized his own hypocrisy, his mind tainted by his own dark fantasies. He looked away, shame burning in his chest.
The exchange laid bare the group’s rot, their twisted desires exposed like an open wound. Unknowingly, Mika had saved Charlotte, and that little girl, from a fate far worse than a crash, his split, second sacrifice thwarting a plan steeped in cruelty.
The driver, clearly the group’s leader, then opened his mouth to speak, likely to demand how they’d explain this failure to their employer, when his gaze caught something odd.
A raven perched on a rusted beam above, its black feathers glinting under the flickering lights. Its beady eyes were fixed on them, unblinking, almost...listening.
The driver frowned, a prickle of unease crawling up his spine. "What the hell?" He muttered, trying to shake it off.
But the feeling grew, the raven’s stare too deliberate, too knowing and because he felt a chill every time he glanced at it, he grabbed a jagged stone from the floor and hurled it, the projectile whistling through the air.
The raven squawked, dodging the stone with a flap of its wings, and took flight, spiraling toward the warehouse’s only entrance, a gaping hole where a door once hung and the driver exhaled, thinking it was gone.
But his relief shattered as the bird didn’t escape.
Instead, it stopped, hovering mid, air, circling a figure he hadn’t noticed until that moment. His eyes widened, his breath catching as the group’s attention also snapped to the entrance.
A young boy stood there, his posture casual, almost lazy, his dark hair messy and his eyes glinting with a cold, unreadable calm. He wore a torn jacket, scuffed pants, and an air of quiet calmness that didn’t match his age.