A hush fell over the black market like a shroud.
It wasn't sudden—but slow. Spreading outward from the confrontation, like ripples from a stone dropped in still water. Esme could feel it on her skin first: the sudden cooling of the air, like someone had blown out all the warmth. Then came the silence, tense and brittle, broken only by the subtle scrape of chairs pulled back and cautious footsteps retreating into corners.
At her feet, the man she'd thrown to the ground—massive, scarred, but now laughing with something between admiration and surrender—spat blood to the side and chuckled.
"Girl's got steel in her," he muttered, voice like gravel soaked in whiskey. "Didn't expect that."
