The rhythmic clang of metal against metal echoed through the grimy corridors, a symphony of servitude. Anya, hunched low beneath the weight of a overflowing waste bin, wove through the throngs of shuffling figures. Her back ached, her muscles screamed for rest, but her mind, a tightly coiled spring, refused to let go. It had been ten years since the Volkov goons had snatched her from her village, ten years of backbreaking labor, of soul-crushing fear. Hate, a simmering ember, kept her alive.Tonight, however, a flicker of something else danced in the pit of her stomach – hope. It started small, a barely perceptible tremor beneath the layers of calloused defiance she’d built around her heart.Earlier, amidst the fetid, overflowing slop she was forced to handle, a glint of metal caught her eye. Tucked cleverly amongst the refuse, wrapped in a greasy rag, was a small package. Her breath caught in her throat. Any deviation from routine was a risk, but the desperation within her outweighed
Last Updated : 2024-05-18 Read more