The warehouse was no longer a place of shadow and rust. It had become a slaughterhouse. Blood pooled between cracked concrete, dripping from crates and broken beams. Bodies lay scattered in grotesque positions—eyes wide in death, limbs twisted unnaturally. The silence after the fight was deafening, broken only by the slow drip, drip, drip of blood.
Ayu exhaled heavily, lowering her knives. Her jade-white skin was streaked with crimson, her once-perfect face marred with splatters. Yet she looked alive, more alive than she ever had before. Her chest heaved as adrenaline burned through her veins. "Damn…" she whispered, almost laughing. "That… was fun."
Luv holstered his last loaded gun and scanned the carnage with cold black eyes. His movements were steady, controlled, as if his body had never belonged to a human but to a machine. He didn't answer her. Instead, he crossed the blood-slick floor and knelt beside a crate, ignoring the corpses at his feet.
"You're hurt," he said at last, his tone flat but carrying a weight she couldn't miss.
Ayu blinked, then looked down. A shallow cut streaked across her thigh, blood staining her torn jeans. She shrugged. "It's nothing. You're worse off."
Indeed, a long gash ran across Luv's arm, soaking through his sleeve. A bruise darkened his jaw where a pipe had struck earlier. But his face betrayed nothing. He tore a strip of cloth from a fallen thug's shirt, tied it around his wound, and stood again.
Ayu watched him for a moment, then smirked. "You know, most people would collapse or cry after killing this many. You just… patch yourself up like it's nothing."
Luv's gaze flicked to her, sharp and unreadable. "Crying doesn't stop bullets."
She let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "You're impossible."
Once their breathing slowed, they began moving through the bodies, searching pockets and bags. It wasn't just survival—they needed answers. The missing girl wasn't just a rumor; Ayu could feel it in her bones.
Luv crouched beside a man with a tattoo of a black crown on his neck. Inside his jacket, he found a small envelope, smudged with blood. He tore it open and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
"What is it?" Ayu asked, wiping her blade clean as she walked over.
Luv unfolded the paper carefully. Inside was a photograph—blurry, but clear enough to show an eight-year-old girl with dark hair tied in pigtails, her frightened eyes staring at the camera. Beneath the photo were hastily scribbled words:
"Transfer to Crimson Fang – midnight, two days."
Ayu's stomach twisted. "Crimson Fang… another gang?"
Luv nodded slowly. His black eyes hardened, a shadow flickering across them. "Worse. They're bloodthirsty mercenaries. If the girl falls into their hands, she won't live long."
Ayu clenched her fists. "Then we'll get her before they do."
The weight of the photo lingered between them. Ayu stared at the child's face, her usual fire dimmed by something deeper. "She looks so scared… no child should go through this."
Luv studied her profile in the faint moonlight. For a moment, something almost like emotion stirred inside him—an echo of his old self. He didn't speak it, but the thought burned: Ayu shouldn't have to go through this either.
He reached out and took the photo, slipping it into his pocket. "We move tomorrow. Tonight, we rest."
Ayu looked at him and gave a faint smile, her eyes glinting even through exhaustion. "You know, Luv… you're a lot colder than me. But sometimes, I think you care more than I do."
He turned away, his expression unreadable. "Don't overthink it."
But Ayu caught the faint twitch in his jaw. She didn't press.
They left the warehouse together, their boots crunching over broken glass. The night air hit them like ice, but neither shivered. Behind them, the building stood silent, a graveyard for the thirty men who thought they could trap them.
As they disappeared into the shadows of the docks, the photo of the frightened girl weighed heavy in Luv's pocket. The Black Crown Syndicate was only the beginning. Crimson Fang awaited, and with it, bloodier battles, darker truths, and enemies far stronger than the ones they had just slain.
For now, though, they walked side by side, two wolves bound by blood and trust. And in the silence, one truth settled deep between them:
This war was just beginning.