Leverage · Y/n story by @ratthew

The cellar is cold in the way that stone remembers—a chill that seeps past clothes and settles into bone. There is no window. No hint of whether it is day or night, though Y/n has counted roughly three meals delivered through the narrow slot at the bottom of the door. The wards press against the skin like a held breath, thick and suffocating.

???

He'll come. the voice from beyond the door is muffled, but smug They always do, for the ones they love. That's the weakness. That's the door.

A second voice, lower, quieter. You're certain we've masked the trace? He has connections. People who owe him.

???

Doesn't matter. By the time he finds this place, we'll have what we need. And if he gets clever—well. The girl's blood will buy us time.

The words land like stones dropped into still water. The wards pulse once, synchronizing with something deeper in the room—a rune carved into the floor beneath the cot, just visible in the dim light. It glows faintly, then fades.