The buckles loosened. The muzzle fell away, revealing a delicate face that belonged in a Renaissance painting, not a warehouse.
Rafael extended his hand, all practiced politeness. "Hello. I'm Rafael Olivera."
The boy stared at the outstretched hand like he'd never seen one before. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips. Then, slowly, he reached out with his chained hands.
"Careful," José warned. "Sometimes he—"
The moment their skin touched, the boy lunged, sinking his teeth into the inside of Rafael’s forearm. Rafael screamed, trying to pull away, but the boy held on with desperate strength, blood welling around his lips.
José's men rushed forward with cattle prods. The boy released Rafael and scrambled backward, chains tangling as he pressed himself against the wall. He wasn't cowering though; he was protecting his prize. Blood painted his mouth red, and his eyes had gone wide and wild, fixed on Rafael with that same terrible intensity.
"Idiota!" José snatched up a rod himself. "You ruin everything!"
"Stop." I knelt beside Rafael, who clutched his arm to his chest, tears streaming down his face. The bite was deep but clean. It would scar.
"I'm so sorry, Ambassador," José babbled. "He's never... I'll dispose of him. No charge. My apologies, my deepest—"
"How much?" I asked, pulling out my handkerchief to wrap Rafael's hand.
José blinked. "Senhor?"
"For the boy. How much?"
"But he... he attacked your son!"
I looked at the child pressed against the wall, blood on his mouth, eyes still locked on Rafael with that consuming focus. The intensity went beyond aggression or hunger and into something else entirely: obsession. The kind that could be shaped, directed, weaponized.
"Yes," I said. "He did."
The boy's breathing had steadied. He watched me wrap Rafael's wound, tracking the red spreading through white cloth. When our eyes met, I saw intelligence there. Calculation. He knew he'd just signed his own death warrant, but he'd done it anyway for one taste of my son's blood.
This was absolutely fascinating.
"Thirty thousand," José said, desperate to salvage something. "American. And you take him now, as is."
"Twenty. And you throw in the muzzle."
"Pai!" Rafael protested, voice thick with pain. "He bit me!"
"Yes." I finished wrapping his hand, then stood. "And you're the first thing he's wanted badly enough to risk everything for. Isn't that interesting?"
Rafael stared at me as if I'd gone insane. Perhaps I had. But as I counted out bills, I felt something click into place. Not the plan I'd come with, but something better.
The Pantheon had been pressing me to find new recruits. Young ones who could be molded from scratch. I'd resisted, focusing on my legitimate work. But this boy was perfect. Not a companion for Rafael, but something else entirely that would belong to me.
"What will you call him?" José asked as his men prepared the boy for transport, muzzle back in place.
I looked at my son, who despite everything, couldn't stop staring at his attacker. Then at the boy with his bloodstained lips and wild eyes.
"Lorenzo," I said. The name came from nowhere, settled into place like it had been waiting. "His name is Lorenzo."
As we left, Rafael walking ahead in sullen silence, I felt Lorenzo's gaze boring into my son's back. The focus was extraordinary; the potential even more so. I'd told Rafael I was getting him a companion.
I hadn't lied. I'd just been thinking too small.
Lorenzo would be so much more than that.
The Pantheon would be pleased.
