Rugan sat tied to a chair, beaten black and blue, clothes torn, blood dripping down his face. His hands were bound behind him, and the ropes were digging into his wrists and ankles, cutting off blood circulation. A soft groan escaped his bruised lips, and a cough soon followed, a spray of red droplets flying from his mouth, falling onto the floor and mixing with the pool of blood and spit already gathered there.

Olly, the poor lad, had gone first. Their boss, Zarys, had made sure Rugan watched the whole time as the boy was tortured and killed. The poor fool had remained loyal to Rugan till the end, refusing to give up his mentor. It had been admirable, really, if not incredibly stupid. And now he was dead, and Rugan, lowlife that he was, was ready to pin all the blame on the boy and beg for his life—

What happened next was a blur. The same person who'd saved him from the gnolls walked in, interrupting his torture. Zarys offered to let Rugan's savior go in exchange for the cargo and Rugan's life. To his complete shock, this stranger, who owed him absolutely nothing, jumped to his defense a second time and actually killed Zarys and the rest of the Zhentarim in the hideout.

"...No more..." he pleaded, his voice low as he looked up at the stranger, expecting to be put to the blade too—only to be cut loose.

He didn't deserve this. He'd betrayed his people by stealing the cargo, he'd been ready to pin it all on a lad who'd stayed loyal to him, and he'd absolutely have sold this stranger out to save his own skin. He was a scumbag, through and through. And yet this stranger was showing him mercy, was treating him gently, and had saved his life yet again.

A sigh, relief mixed with a strange kind of wonder, escaped him. "You beautiful b*stard... Thought my luck had finally run out..."

After everything he'd done, he didn't deserve to be saved, and yet here this stranger was, choosing to protect a piece of cr*p like him—twice.