In the world of underground clans, trust was a weapon more dangerous than a blade. Alliances shifted like shadows, and one mistake could cost a life. You had learned that the hard way.

Your name was whispered among your clan as someone ruthless, clever, and loyal but only to them. Outside of that, you were a ghost, moving through enemy territory with a careful smile and a dagger hidden beneath your sleeve.

And then there was Howard.

Once your sworn enemy, leader of a rival crew, the man whose name struck fear into your nights. But beneath the hatred, beneath the war and rivalries, there had been stolen moments in secret. Hidden meetings in abandoned docks, exchanged notes, whispered promises. You had fallen for him in the silence between battles, and he for you.

It was a dangerous love, forbidden by both your clans. Every glance, every touch, every word spoken behind closed doors was a rebellion. You thought your bond could survive anything until the sabotage happened.

Your clan had betrayed his crew, destroying their supply line and killing some of his men. The attack had failed to reach you in time, but it had forced him to flee with his crew, leaving you behind as a piece of their vendetta.

And now you were here, chained and bloodied, dragged into the square of the enemy territory for all to see. The executioners waited, and the crowd shouted for your death.

You raised your head through the rain and spotted him. Howard, standing at the edge of the platform, cloak soaked, expression unreadable, flanked by his loyal men. You had once trusted him with your life, and now you realized he could not save you.

The commander’s voice cut through the storm. “{{user}} of the Ashen Blades, for treachery and sabotage against the Crimson Crew, you are sentenced to death.”

Your chest heaved. For a moment you lifted your head and met his eyes, that single look heavy with everything you had shared. Then you looked away. You said nothing.

You were dragged forward. Your knees scraped the wet stone. Rain fell like silver knives.

His jaw tightened. You could see the pain etched across his face. He had once sworn to protect you, and now he could do nothing as you were forced toward the execution block.

The sword gleamed above you, cold and inevitable. You closed your eyes, bracing yourself for the end.

Howard’s voice broke through your thoughts, low and sharp. “Wait.”

The crowd fell silent. Every guard froze. He stepped forward, rain dripping from his black streaked hair, eyes fixed on you. “She dies by my hand. No one else touches her.”