Blood Of Acacia

Wounds implied

Ardan's fists gripped, his voice sharp as a blade. "You're then soliciting this unprintable man while Mira's life hangs by a thread!" His words lashed like a scourge, each syllable trickling with despisement.

Livia's win cracked against his impertinence, louder this time, leaving his skin surcharging. Her casket heaved as wrathfulness and pain poured out like a flood tide. "You suppose I don't watch? You suppose I don't know what's at stake?" Her voice broke, but her eyes burned with fury. "My family disowned me. The world wrangles on me. And through all of it, I endured — for Mira's sake! She's my life, Ardan, not yours!"

Her voice echoed through the cold wave, dimly lit storehouse. For a moment, Ardan set, his mind racing to reuse her words. The verity counted heavier than the bruises on his pride. Before he could respond, Livia turned on her heel, her steps fading into the night.

The silence that followed was blaring. Ardan stood there, unmoving, gaping after her. The weight of her words hit him harder than any blow he'd taken in battle. His studies entwined as he reached into his fund, feeling the small, smooth face of an old acacia pendant. It was a relic from another time, another life, a life when effects were simpler.

"Mira Livia." His voice was a tale, carried down by the still air. The guilt clawed at him, sharp and implacable. He gritted his teeth, his knuckles decolorizing as he gripped his fists tighter. "I'll make this right."

---

The night was thick with pressure as Ardan stepped into the sticky alley behind the storehouse. The megacity lights cast a faint gleam against the cracked pavement, but the darkness sounded to press in from all sides. He pulled out his phone, dialing a number he hadn't used in a long time.

"Rian," he said, his voice low but firm. There was no need for amenities. "I need you to track a truck. It left the jetties about an hour ago. Cargo a girl. Mira."

The other end of the line was silent for a beat; a curt response also came. "Got it. I'll shoot you the equals in fifteen."

Ardan exhaled, his breath fogging in the bite of the night. His mind contended, making together the fractions of the situation. Mira's exposure, Livia's despair, and now, his part in the chaos. He couldn't shake the image of Livia's gash-barred face, the bitterness in her voice. He'd undervalued her and dismissed her pain as weakness. But now, he understood it wasn't a weakness. It was strength forged through fire.

---

Fifteen twinkles latterly, Ardan's phone buzzed. The screen lit up with a set of equals. He studied the chart, his eyes narrowing as he honored the position. It was an old artificial area on the megacity's outskirts, a place known for shady dealings and forgotten pledges.

He didn't desolate time. His auto roared to life, the machine growling as he sped toward the destination. The thoroughfares blurred past him, the megacity's neon gleam fading into the shadowy outskirts. His mind was a storm of studies, but one thing was clear — he couldn't go to fail. Not this time.

As he approached the position, he killed the headlights, the auto rolling to a silent stop. The area was eerily quiet. Abandoned storages impended like specters, their broken windows glinting noiselessly under the pale moonlight. He scrutinized the area, his eyes sharp, his senses on high alert.

In the distance, he spotted the truck. It was situated near a worsening structure, its machine still warm. Two men stood hard, their voices low but tense. Ardan's jaw tensed. He honored one of them — a low-level enforcer from a gang he'd had dealings with times ago. The other man was strange, but his posture spoke of authority.

Ardan slipped out of the auto, moving with the rehearsed covert of someone who had spent time navigating dangerous terrain. He edged closer, staying hidden in the murk, his cognizance straining to catch their discussion.

"She's worth further than the usual weight," the enforcer was saying. "The buyer's paying double if we deliver her by night."

The other man jounced, his expression indecipherable. "Make sure nothing goes wrong. You know what happens if it does."

Ardan's blood boiled. Mira was no "weight." She was a child — a life, a soul. He knew he'd to act presto, but charging in recklessly would only get him killed and Mira along with him.

He scrutinized the area, taking note of the layout. The truck was deposited near the structure's entrance, and a side door was slightly ajar. A faint flicker of light came from within, suggesting others were outside. His mind worked snappily, formulating a plan.

---

Inside the structure, Mira sat huddled in a corner, her hands bound but her spirit unbroken. She giggled at the men guarding her, her youthful mind racing with studies of escape. She wasn't sure if anyone was coming for her, but she refused to give up stopgap. She gripped the small pendant around her neck — a binary to the one Ardan carried. It was the only piece of her mama she had left, and it gave her strength.

Outside, Ardan crept toward the side door. He slipped outside, his movements calculated and precise. The interior was dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of oil painting and decay. He could hear voices from a nearby room. He followed the sound, his heart pounding in his casket.

He browsed around the corner, spotting Mira. Relief washed over him, but he didn't let it distract him. The men were still there, and he demanded to neutralize them snappily and still.

Ardan reached into his fund, pulling out a small cutter. He crept closer, his steps muffled by the smut-covered bottom. With a nippy, rehearsed stir, he took down the first guard, his movements effective and silent. The alternate guard turned, his eyes widening in alarm, but Ardan was brisk. He disarmed the man with a single strike, leaving him unconscious on the ground.

"Mira," Ardan rumored, rushing to her side. Her eyes widened in recognition, and a gash slipped down her impertinence.

"Dad," she muttered.

He cut her tapes, pulling her into a tight grasp. "I'm then. You're safe now."

---

The steps stopped just outside the room. For a moment, there was silence — also, the door burst open, and a figure stepped outside. It wasn't a guard. It wasn't an enforcer. It was someone Ardan hadn't seen in time.

"Ardan," the man said, his voice calm but menacing. "I should've known you'd get involved."

Ardan's eyes narrowed, his heart sinking as he honored the man. It was the buyer — the one orchestrating Mira's hijacking. And he wasn't alone.

The pressure in the room was suffocating as Ardan deposited himself protectively in front of Mira. His mind contended, searching for a way out. But as the man's lips coiled into a cold smile, Ardan knew this was far from over.