A series of Unfortunate Events for the Lone Wanderer
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Jotun’s hand reached through the bars, his fingers brushing lightly against Adam’s cheek. The touch was unexpected, a jolt that sent a shiver down his spine. He flinched, instinctively jerking back, but the bars stopped him. He could only stare, wide-eyed, as the slaver's fingers traced the trail of tears, the rough pads of his fingertips almost gentle against Adam’s skin.
“Thought you’d have more fight in you,” Jotun murmured, his tone more curious than mocking. “Guess I was wrong.”
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The leader's heavy boots clanking against the concrete floor. His sheer size made the room feel claustrophobic, the air thick with tension. Adam’s breath quickened, but he kept his expression steady, his lips curling into a cocky smirk.
“What's wrong?” he drawled, his voice hoarse from days without water. “Too dumb to keep up with your friends? Or did they leave you behind because you’re the slow one?”
The mutant’s lips pulled back into something resembling a smile—a cruel, twisted expression that made Adam’s blood run cold. “They’re doing what they do best,” he rumbled, his voice deep and unsettlingly calm. “Killing. Smashing. I have something better.”
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