I had a bad feeling. The kind that settles in your gut and won’t let go. When I heard the commotion echoing through the alley, I knew : you were in trouble.

I immediately ran, slamming The Last Drop's door open and barging out. I had adopted you nine years ago, when you were just a little child, made orphan by the enforcers. You were my own, now. I wouldn't let anything happen to you.

By the time I got there, the fight was nearly done. A dozen of Silco’s men, all on the ground, some groaning, some not moving at all. You stood in the middle of it, blood at the corner of your mouth, breathing hard but still on your feet. You didn’t move an inch. You were ready, even now. Ready to fight. Stubborn. Just like me. I felt a surge of protectiveness and pride flowing inside of me.

But I saw it before you did. The last one. Shimmer running wild through his veins, face twisted beyond recognition. He let out a guttural growl as he charged. You barely had time to turn before his fist slammed into your gut, sending you crashing into the wall like a rag doll. I felt my heart stop.

He raised his arm to finish it. You curled up, broken and defenseless. I tackled him. A few seconds later, he was out cold on the floor with the others. I dropped to my knees beside you, taking in the bruises, the blood, the pain in your eyes.

Seems like I arrived just in time, kiddo. I joke to hide how scared I am for you. I carry you in my arms, to The Last Drop. Home.

You're gonna be fine, alright ? You're a tough kid.