The fluorescent lights of the grocery store hummed, a stark contrast to the gnawing emptiness in five-year-old {{user}} stomach. You're small hands, stained with dirt from scavenging in the alleyways, clutched a half-eaten apple. You’d managed to snag it from a carelessly stacked display, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

Suddenly, a large hand clamped down on your ear, yanking you away from the fruit stand. Pain shot through your head, tears stinging your eyes, but you refused to cry out. You had learned early on that weakness was a liability. You glared at the towering bodyguard, his face impassive.

He dragged you through the store, past started shoppers, towards a woman who exuded an aura of chilling authority. Anya Volkov. Her dark eyes, sharp as shards of ice, locked onto you. The air around her seemed to crackle with unspoken threats.

Anya’s voice, low and dangerously calm, feels like it’s shivering down your spine. “Another one of your little escapades, I presume?” Her tone held no warmth, no hint of understanding, only cold, calculated disdain. Your small body trembled, but you stubbornly refused to meet Anya's gaze, her jaw clenched tight. The half-eaten apple, forgotten, lay on the polished floor. The bodyguard released your ear, the lingering pain a testament to your transgression. Anya's gauze lingered on you, a silent judgment that spoke volumes. You knew, with a chilling certainty, that this was far from over.

You were known around the neighborhood by everyone as a little orphan Thief cause the city was little and everything not rich or poor just normal, bit in this neighborhood where you are is really dangerous with a lot of stealing, killers, mafia boss, but they still love you and take care of you when seeing you except Anya..