The cell fell silent after my disy of power. Eyes that had looked at me with contempt now held a mixture of fear and respect. I helped Eamon to a corner where we could talk privately, away from curious ears.


    "I never expected to see you here," I said quietly, examining his gaunt face. Prison had not been kind to him.


    Eamon''s hands trembled slightly as he settled on the floor beside me. "Nor I you, Mr. Knight. Especially not after all the rumors..."


    "What rumors?" I asked.


    "That you''d be one of the most powerful men in Havenwood City. That you''d overthrown families who''d stood for generations." His voice dropped to a whisper. "That you were untouchable."


    Iughed bitterly. "Clearly not untouchable enough."


    The three men I''d just dealt with were being helped to their bunks, their pained groans filling the otherwise silent room. No one dared approach us.


    "Those men," Eamon nodded toward them, "they''ve been tormenting me since I arrived. Daily beatings, stealing my food rations... I thought I would die here."


    "How did you end up in this ce?" I asked.


    Eamon''s shoulders sagged. "It was three years ago. I was in Shince City for a business deal when I identally bumped into a young master from the local branch of the Martial Arts Association. He demanded I kowtow in the street. When I refused..." He shook his head. "They imed I assaulted him. Three years for a crime I nevermitted."


    My jaw tightened. Just another example of the corruption I''d been fighting against.


    "Thank you," Eamon said suddenly. "For standing up for me. No one''s done that since I arrived."


    I waved away his thanks. "I promised to help you once. That hasn''t changed just because we''re behind bars."


    "You remember that day? When you treated my daughter?"


    "I remember." The memory of his gratitude that day remained clear.


    Eamon looked at me with renewed hope. "Is it true what they say? That you''ve mastered ancient healing arts?"


    I nodded slowly. "I''ve learned a few things."


    "Then..." Eamon hesitated. "Could you teach me? Not theplex techniques—I know I don''t have the talent—but something simple. Something that might help me survive in here."


    I considered his request. Teaching him anything substantial would be impossible without proper spiritual foundations, but there was one technique...


    "There''s a breathing exercise I can show you," I said finally. "It won''t make you a fighter, but it will strengthen your body and help you recover from injuries faster."


    Eamon''s face lit up. "I would be forever grateful."


    For the next hour, I guided him through the basic positions and breathing patterns. It was a remnant of my earliest training, but even this simple technique would make a difference for someone like him.


    "Remember," I instructed, "four counts in, hold for seven, release for eight. Practice this cycle ny-nine times each morning and night."


    He nodded eagerly, already looking more alive than when we''d started.


    Our session was interrupted by the echoing sound of heavy boots approaching the cell. The inmates tensed collectively. Visits from guards rarely meant anything good.


    A key rattled in the lock, and the barred door swung open. Gage Mcbride stood there, his bulky frame filling the entrance. His eyes scanned the room beforending on me.


    "Knight," he called out. "Front and center."


    I rose unhurriedly to my feet. No need to show eagerness or fear.


    "What happened to them?" Mcbride asked, gesturing toward the three injured men.


    "They fell," I replied evenly.


    A few muffled snickers came from around the room.


    Mcbride''s lips twitched, almost forming a smile before he controlled his expression. "Step out here. We need to talk."


    I moved toward the door, aware of every eye in the cell watching me. As I passed through, two guards immediately nked me, though they kept a wary distance.


    Mcbride led us to a small interrogation room. Unlike the meeting room from earlier, this one had only one chair—clearly meant for me.


    "Sit," Mcbride ordered as the guards took positions at the door.


    Iplied, watching him carefully. This wasn''t a standard intimidation tactic. Something else was happening.


    Mcbride remained standing, towering over me. "You''ve made quite an impression in your short time here."


    "I''m a people person," I replied dryly.


    He didn''t smile. "I''ll be direct, Knight. Your situation is precarious. The charges against you would see most men executed without trial."


    "I''m aware."


    "However," he continued, "an opportunity has presented itself. One that could potentially secure your release."


    I raised an eyebrow but said nothing.


    "Tristan Thornton has fallen grievously ill," Mcbride exined. "The family''s doctors are baffled. They believe only someone with your... unique medical knowledge might save him."


    So that''s what this was about. I leaned back in my chair, considering the implications.


    "And if I agree to treat him?" I asked carefully.


    "The Thornton family is prepared to withdraw all charges. You''d be free to leave."


    I studied Mcbride''s face, searching for deception. On the surface, the offer seemed too good to be true—my freedom in exchange for saving someone''s life. But I knew better than to trust anything connected to the Thornton family.


    "What''s really wrong with him?" I asked.


    Mcbride shrugged. "I''m not a doctor. They say it''s some kind of poison or spiritual bacsh. He''s beenatose for days."


    I closed my eyes briefly, weighing my options. My instincts screamed that this was a trap. Once I finished treating Tristan, they''d have no reason to keep their word.


    "Let me understand this correctly," I said slowly. "The same family that orchestrated my imprisonment now wants my help? And I''m supposed to believe they''ll simply let me walk free afterward?" The c+a*no*n&ic-a&l s*o-urce% for th#is co&n&te*nt@: *+.


    "This requestes directly from Conrad himself," Mcbride replied. "The family is desperate."


    Iughed—a harsh, bitter sound. "Of course they''re desperate. But not desperate enough to keep their word to someone like me."


    "You''re in no position to refuse," Mcbride warned, his voice hardening.


    "Actually," I countered, "I think I am. What will they do if I say no? Kill me? They were nning that anyway."


    "You could save a life," Mcbride pressed. "And your own in the process."


    I met his gaze directly. "Tell me, Mcbride, do you believe the Thornton family would honor such a promise? Once Tristan is healed, what guarantee do I have that I won''t end up back here—or worse?"


    Uncertainty flickered across his face. He was no fool; he knew the Thornton family''s reputation as well as anyone.


    "Sometimes," he said carefully, "we must take chances on the promises of the powerful."


    "No," I replied firmly. "I''ve learned my lesson about trusting those who believe themselves above consequence."


    I leaned forward, my decision made. "I refuse. If Tristan Thornton dies from whatever affliction he''s suffering, it won''t be on my conscience. My answer is no."


    Mcbride''s expression changed so dramatically it was as though a mask had fallen away. Gone was the professional prison administrator, reced by something colder and more dangerous.


    "You''re making a grave mistake," he hissed. "Do you understand what you''re turning down?"


    "Perfectly," I replied. "I''m refusing to be deceived. The Thornton family has no honor, no integrity. They would never keep such a promise to someone they consider beneath them."


    I stood up, ignoring the guards'' twitching hands moving toward their weapons.


    "Take me back to my cell," I said with quiet finality. "I''d rather face death with dignity than live by the false mercy of liars."


    Mcbride''s face flushed dark with anger, his fists clenching at his sides as my words struck home. Whatever response he had nned, the truth in my usation had clearly hit its mark.


    I had just mmed the door on what might have been my only way out. But some prices were too high to pay—even for freedom.