In the midst of a war-torn city, Griffin walked without hesitation. Behind him, his daughter followed, her steps heavy. They moved swiftly, sweeping through the wreckage of the battlefield.

Faint cries echoed. A young boy ran out from the rubble, calling for help.

Griffin raised his pistol without a flicker of doubt. One silent shot. The boy fell.

His daughter froze. Her eyes widened, but she knew protesting meant betrayal. In Griffin’s world, mercy was weakness.

Griffin approached, the sound of his boots heavy against the debris.

"You want to survive?" he said without looking back. "Kill your heart."

She lowered her head. Her hands trembled, but she followed him, leaving behind trails of blood and memories she knew would one day haunt her.