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Chapter 2 - The Devil's Larder

The basement of L’Artisan Gourmand was not a pantry. It was a subterranean fortress. The scent of roasted espresso faded, replaced by the sterile, metallic tang of gun oil and cold hard cash.

Elias pulled Elara tightly against his side as Genevieve led them past rows of stainless steel tables. Men in tailored black suits were quietly, efficiently packing vacuum-sealed bags of white powder into hollowed-out wheels of imported parmesan cheese. Others were stuffing conflict diamonds into the bellies of dead, frozen pheasants.

L’Artisan Gourmand wasn’t a delicatessen. It was the premier smuggling hub for the city’s elite.

Genevieve stopped at a heavy iron door at the end of the corridor. "The rules are exceedingly simple," she said, tapping her cane against the steel. "Your sister will live in the penthouse suites above the shop. She will be bathed, fed the finest food, and educated by private tutors."

Elara looked up, her wide eyes reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights. "Together?" she asked in a tiny, fragile voice.

"No, darling," Genevieve smiled coldly. She looked back at Elias. "You, boy, will become one of my Hounds. You will navigate the filth of this city, delivering my most sensitive packages to my most dangerous clients. You will not ask questions. You will not fail. If you steal from me, if you run, or if you speak to the police..."

Genevieve reached out, her manicured nail trailing down Elara’s dirty cheek. Elias violently swatted her hand away.

Genevieve chuckled, unbothered. "...if you fail, the little girl becomes my property. Permanently. The elite of this city pay handsomely for untraceable, undocumented children. Do we have an understanding?"

Elias felt the air leave his lungs. He looked at his sister, shivering, starving, on the brink of death. Then he looked at the monster offering them life. He had walked into a bakery looking for bread, and he had sold their lives to the syndicate.

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"I do it," Elias said, his voice dropping an octave, solidifying into something hard and unbreakable. "But if you hurt her, I will burn this place to the ground."

"I look forward to seeing you try," Genevieve mocked. "Welcome to the payroll, Hound."

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