OWNED BY THE DEVIL'S HEIR

Elian Voss loved the quiet of the night. It wasn't totally silent, not in a busy place like Harbor City, but the city sounds were far away. Traffic was just a low hum, and the only close noises were the clinks and creaks from the docks. The air smelled like the sea and old metal, like things left behind. He sat on a broken piece of concrete, leaning back against something cold that wasn't used for anything anymore. His drawing book was open on his lap. One hand held the page still, while the other moved his pencil. He drew what he saw: big metal boxes stacked up, the rough ground, and the shapes of cranes in the distance, looking like giant skeletons against the dark sky. He drew slowly, not in a hurry. The lines came together, making something that felt real. It wasn't perfect, but that didn't matter. Drawing itself was what was important. It kept his mind calm and made him feel small, like he belonged in the background. That’s how he liked it. Nobody paid much attention to someone like him. A quiet student drawing alone in a forgotten place? He just blended in, another shadow nobody noticed. It made things easier. His pencil stopped. He leaned back a little, looking at his drawing. In these moments, he felt a quiet peace, a simple feeling of being okay. He could stay there for hours, letting time drift by. Then he heard it. A sound that ripped through the night, so loud it felt like it tore the air apart. Elian froze, his pencil hovering above the paper. His body reacted before his mind could even catch up. A second later, the sound bounced back, echoing in the empty space before fading into a heavy silence. He knew that sound. Anyone who lived in Harbor City knew it. His heart beat faster. Everything around him felt different. The quiet wasn't peaceful anymore; it felt wrong. He should have left. That thought came fast and clear. Nothing was keeping him there. He could close his sketchbook, walk away, and pretend he hadn't heard a thing. That would have been the smart thing to do. But he didn't. It wasn't a big decision. It was just a tiny pause, a moment where his curiosity took over, pushing aside his caution. Slowly, carefully, Elian set his sketchbook down on his lap and shifted his weight. The stacked containers next to him hid most of his view, with long shadows covering everything beyond. He leaned just enough to peek through the narrow space between the metal edges. At first, he just saw movement. Shadows moving where there should have been nothing. Shapes of people appearing, one after another, filling the space with a purpose. There were several of them, standing in a way that wasn't accidental. Elian’s grip on his sketchbook tightened. The way they stood, the way they moved, had a quiet seriousness that made his stomach clench. Then he saw the person in the middle. A man was on his knees. His hands were tied behind his back, and he was struggling to stand up straight. He was talking, his voice shaky and fast, hard to understand. He sounded desperate, but nobody was listening. Because no one was listening. Elian's breathing slowed without him noticing. He watched the scene, his focus sharp. The men around the kneeling man didn't react to his pleas. They didn't stop him. They didn't move. They just waited. And standing in front of the kneeling man was someone who didn’t need to say a word. Elian didn’t know how he knew so fast, but he did. The way that man stood, the way the air around him seemed to change, made everything else seem less important. He wasn’t in a hurry. He wasn’t unsure of himself. He stood there like the moment belonged to him, like nothing else mattered beyond what he had already decided. The kneeling man’s voice got louder, breaking with fear. It didn't make a difference. The man in front of him didn't answer, didn't react, didn't show that he even heard. Elian felt it coming. The weight of it. The end of everything. The gun fired again, louder this time, sharper now that Elian was ready for it. The sound hit him, making his chest tight as the man in front of them fell. He hit the ground with a soft thud, the movement ending as quickly as it had started. Silence came after. Not total silence, but a heavy quiet that pressed down and held everything still. Elian didn’t know he had stopped breathing until his lungs ached. He took a breath, his fingers gripping the edge of his sketchbook. What he had just seen felt real, sinking in. His mind tried to push it away, to make it seem like a dream, but it wouldn’t. It was right there. It had happened. And he had watched. Then the man moved. It wasn’t fast or jerky. Just a simple turn, a small shift with no sign of hurry. But it was enough. Elian’s body moved before his mind could. Their eyes met. The distance between them vanished. The space, the shadows, the darkness – it all disappeared under that one look. There was no confusion. No doubt. He knew. Elian’s heart pounded, so loud it drowned out everything else. Panic flooded him, and he couldn’t stop it. His body moved before he could think, his instincts taking over. He ran. The world became a blur as his feet hit the ground, the sound loud. He gasped for air, his chest tight as he ran forward without looking back. He didn’t need to. He knew they would follow. Voices came from behind him. They weren't yelling. They weren't panicked. That made it worse. They sounded calm, like they weren’t worried they might lose him. The quiet in their voices made Elian’s chest tighten even more. They weren’t worried. They already knew how this would end. Elian turned sharply between the containers, his shoulder bumping against cold metal as he squeezed through the narrow paths. His mind raced, trying to find a way out, something he knew. He had been here before. He knew this place. But it didn’t feel the same now. The shadows seemed longer, the spaces tighter, and every path felt like it was closing in too fast. The ground under his feet was rough, tricky, threatening to make him stumble at the worst time. Footsteps followed. Closer than they should have been. He pushed himself harder, his lungs burning as he kept going, his body running on something more than just thought. His heart hammered in his ears, loud enough to cover everything else. His foot hit something. He tripped suddenly, losing his balance and falling forward. He managed to catch himself with his hands before hitting the ground completely. Pain shot through his palms, but he didn't stop. He couldn’t. He pushed himself up right away, forcing his body forward again— A hand grabbed him. The force pulled him back hard, throwing him off balance again as he was yanked off his feet. The impact knocked the air out of him, leaving him gasping as he hit the ground hard. He fought back instantly, twisting, pulling, trying to get free, but another hand grabbed his arm, holding him tight. “Let me go!” Elian’s voice cracked as he yelled, panic rising despite his efforts to stay calm. It didn’t matter. “Stop,” a voice said, low and calm. It wasn't loud. It didn’t need to be. Elian’s struggle faltered for a split second. His breath hitched, and the edges of his vision went blurry. His thoughts scattered, panic rising too fast to control as the weight of the situation crashed down on him. Then he saw him. The man from before stepped into view, his presence taking over everything without any effort. The other men stepped back a little, giving him room without being told. Up close, there was no room for doubt. Dante Moretti. Elian had heard the name before. Everyone had. It was whispered in quiet talks, in warnings spoken softly, in stories that felt true even without proof. And now he was standing right in front of him. Elian’s chest tightened. His breath caught as his thoughts shattered under the shock of recognition. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. His throat felt dry, his voice stuck somewhere he couldn’t reach. Dante’s eyes focused on him. Dante looked at him, not like he was just passing by or looking at something unimportant. It was like he saw something in Elian that was worth thinking about, something he needed to understand before deciding what to do. Elian felt it. The heaviness of that look. His body tensed without him trying. His mind raced, trying to figure out what was happening, trying to find a way out of this situation. But there was nothing. Dante took a step closer. Elian jumped back without meaning to, a quick, sudden movement. His heart beat even faster, his breathing unsteady as he braced himself for whatever was coming, though he couldn't guess what it would be. Dante's hand came up. For a moment, Elian thought he was going to shoot him. But instead, his fingers lightly touched the side of Elian’s face. He gently tilted Elian’s head so their eyes stayed locked. Elian’s thoughts flew apart completely. The tension in his body broke, becoming something too strong to hold back. The last thing he felt was the ground beneath him vanishing. Then there was nothing.