Her head is bent low, tears coursing down her cheeks. She’s clutching a pack of bandages in her hands. All around her on the ground are items strewn around haphazardly, which have clearly been thrownather.
“You ungrateful wretch!” The older female yells. “How dare you show your face here after what you’ve done?”
I push my way through the crowd of onlookers and reach Moe’s side. Grabbing her shoulders, I pull her to her feet. She looks up, surprise flickering over her features.
“Nyk,” she whispers.
“Get up,” I tell her sternly. Draping my arm over her shoulders, I pull her close as I turn my gaze to the loud individuals with a death wish. Yet to my surprise, Idorecognize one of them. It’s her brother.
He’s probably a few years younger than her. The signs of youth are still evident in his face, though he pumps up his posture to give off an air of sophistication. My lip curls in distaste.
If that’s her brother then the older female should be her mother.
“We are leaving.”Otherwise I might kill someone, but I cannot say that. Even worse, killing a human might land me in legal trouble, which I’d rather avoid.
Her eyes are wide with shock at seeing me, but instead of letting her know that her daughter is not only well cared for but that she now has someone to protect her, she assumes the worst.
“So that’s why you have the guts to show your face here,” her mother sneers. “You found yourself someone better to whore yourself to. You abandoned your family, you ungrateful bitch!”
“Madam, please watch your language,” I grit out. The more she speaks, the less I’m able to control myself, legal consequences be damned!
Moe notices my clenched fist and she covers my hand with her soft one. She looks up at me, her eyes pleading with me.
“Why should I watch my language when I’m speaking the truth?” Her mother cries out. “Everyone here knows it!” She points to the people around who quickly nod, the whispers amongst them becoming louder.
“She’d rather whore herself to a stranger than help her family in times of need. Where is her filial piety?”
“Filial piety? You dare speak aboutfilialpiety?” I snarl. “You who sold your own daughter!” I point at her. “You,” —I point to her brother—“who stood by while your sister was bartered off for your future! How cananyof you speak of filial piety when you were the first to sell your own blood.”
“T-that… How dare you!” The female screams.
“I dare, just like that.” I smirk at her. “In fact, I should thank you for being so greedy and shortsighted. You gave up a gem, and I am a lucky bastard for finding it. But make no mistake, I willnotallow you to ever insult her again.”
“W-what?” She sputters. “Who are you to—” Turning to her son, she commands, “Tyrone, do something! Don’t allow him to speak to us this way!”
The young male seems conflicted, but it’s clear he’s never once said no to his mother before. He moves to strike me, but it’s entirely too easy to parry his fist and send him flying with one arm. My lips curl up. Perhaps I’m slowly gaining some strength from the Zantrax, too.
“You may try again,” I address him with a chuckle. “But be ready to bear the consequences of attempted harm toward an immortal.” While mortals are protected against immortals, the opposite stands true as well. Not because mortals might be able to cause any harm, but because they need to know their place in society—at the bottom.
Their faces immediately pale. Everyone else around takes five steps back; with most of them electing to simply leave altogether. In a matter of seconds, the store is almost empty.
“W-what are you talking about?” The female mumbles, looking from Moe to me.
“From now on, if you ever see Moe, you shut up and walk the other way. Am I clear?”
She opens her mouth to argue but her son whispers something in her ear. Eventually she nods.
“And you—” I turn to Moe’s brother. “How can you call yourself a man when you allowed your sister to be sold off? You should be ashamed of yourself.” He has the shame to look away.
“Come on. Let’s go.” I hug Moe closer and exit the store.
She’s still shell-shocked, and for moments on end, she doesn’t speak.
It’s only when we arrive back home that she looks at me, tears still in her eyes.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “I?—”
“Don’t! You don’t have to thank me for anything Moe.”
