She had trusted him. She had taken him in, trained him, and shared her past with him. And this was how he repaid her?
Agastya looked at her with an unreadable expression. Then, slowly, he turned back to the captain and nodded. "No, I don't want the bounty," he said. "I want to meet the Baron myself. There is something I need to talk to him."
Kiara sat motionless in the armored police vehicle, her wrists bound in anti-elemental cuffs, her mana completely suppressed. The betrayal stung deeper than any wound. Agastya had sold her out.
She replayed every interaction in her mind—every training session, every conversation, every moment where she had let her guard down around him. It had all been a lie. He had tricked her from the beginning.
Damn it. She should have known better.
Meanwhile, Agastya sat opposite her, his arms crossed, staring blankly out the reinforced window. There was no remorse in his expression, no hesitation. Only cold indifference.
"You're quiet," he remarked, finally looking at her.
Kiara's blue eyes burned with fury. "You used me."
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "I used you? That's rich, coming from you. You kidnapped me, remember? I just repaid your favor in return, that's all."
She clenched her jaw but said nothing.
Agastya leaned back against the cold metal interior of the vehicle. His voice was devoid of emotion when he spoke next. "You thought I was some lost idiot you could mold into your cause. But I was never interested in your rebellion." His gaze hardened. "I'm a bounty hunter. And you? You're a high-value target. I merely acted as your ally because I have no way to escape, and I don't trust you villains who destroy the establishments for your selfish gains…"
Kiara felt an unfamiliar tightness in her chest. She wanted to curse him, to lunge at him, to break free and make him regret this betrayal. But she couldn't. Not with the suppression device still active.
The convoy rumbled forward, weaving through the neon-lit streets of Gwalior. Towering skyscrapers loomed in the distance, a stark contrast to the slums they had hidden in just hours ago. Their destination was clear—the Baron's mansion.
The estate loomed like a fortress, its iron gates adorned with golden embellishments, its guards heavily armed and stationed at every corner. The moment the convoy stopped, Agastya stepped out first, greeted by the sight of Baron Cedric Vael.
A grotesque man with a bloated belly, sagging jowls, and beady, predatory eyes, the Baron was draped in silk robes too fine for his repulsive form. His lips curled into a delighted grin the moment he laid eyes on Kiara.
"Ahhh…" Cedric's voice slithered through the air. "So this is the infamous Blue-Eyed Demoness the Duke has been hunting." His eyes gleamed with disgusting anticipation as he studied her restrained form.
Kiara met his gaze with nothing but pure hatred.
The Baron turned to Agastya, his grin widening. "You've done well, young man. The bounty was already quite generous, but…" He stepped closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "A girl like this? She's worth far more than just money. The things I could do with her…" His voice trailed off as he licked his lips.
Agastya forced himself to remain still, though his hands clenched into fists behind his back. Disgusting pig.
"Of course," the Baron continued, "I always reward loyalty. I can offer you far more than what the police were willing to pay. Name your price."
Agastya's eyes flickered to Kiara. She was watching him carefully now.
"I want something else," he said evenly.
Cedric raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"There's a girl," Agastya continued. "A slave held in your estate. She's my uncle's daughter. Her father entrusted me with a debt, and I intend to pay it. Release her to me, and we have a deal."
The Baron blinked, taken aback. Then, he laughed. A deep, belly-rolling, condescending laugh.
"You… you refuse money, land, or power, and instead ask for a mere slave?" Cedric wiped a tear from his eye. "You really are a curious one."
Agastya remained silent, his gaze unwavering.
Cedric hummed, tapping his thick fingers against his chin. "Well, I do enjoy loyal men. Very well, I shall grant your request. The girl will be yours." He waved his hand dismissively.
Kiara's stomach twisted. She had been captured by enemies before, but the way this man looked at her made her skin crawl.
She turned to Agastya, her voice laced with venom. "You're really just going to leave me here?"
Agastya met her gaze, his expression still unreadable.
And then, finally, he smirked. "Of course," he said. "I'm just a hunter, after all."
And with that, he turned away.
The Baron's laughter echoed through the grand halls of his estate as he waved a dismissive hand. "Take her away," he commanded, his voice laced with amusement. The guards obeyed immediately, dragging Kiara toward the lower chambers of the mansion.
She fought against them, her blue eyes blazing with fury. "Agastya, you bastard!" she screamed. "I swear, if I ever get out of here, I'll—"
Her words were cut off as one of the guards struck her across the face. Blood dripped from her lip, but she never broke eye contact with Agastya. She kept struggling until the heavy doors slammed shut behind her.
The Baron turned back to Agastya, shaking his head in mock pity. "Women," he chuckled. "They never know when they've lost, do they?"
Agastya merely smiled. "They never do."
The Baron clapped his hands together, his fat rings clinking. "Now then, your request. Bring the girl."
A moment later, a servant led a frail girl into the room. She was pale, barely clothed in rags, with a thick metal collar clasped around her throat. Her long, matted black hair fell over her face, concealing most of her frightened features. She was so thin, it looked like she hadn't eaten in days.
Her wide, terrified eyes flickered between Agastya and the Baron as she trembled like a leaf.
The Baron gestured lazily. "She's yours. A simple servant girl, but if you really care about returning her to her father, then take her." His lips curled into a smirk. "She's not worth much to me anyway."
Agastya stepped forward, offering his hand to the girl. "I'm Agastya," he said, his voice even. "Your father sent me to take you home."
The girl flinched at first but hesitantly placed her delicate fingers in his palm.
His grip was firm.
Warm.
A silent promise.
She looked up at him, confusion flickering in her hollow gaze.
Agastya turned back to the Baron, keeping his expression neutral. "I'll be taking my leave, then."
The Baron leaned back in his seat, swirling his drink in his glass. "Of course, of course. You've done well, hunter. I hope to see you again."
Agastya nodded. Without another word, he turned and led the girl away.
As soon as they exited the main hall, Agastya's relaxed posture shifted. He tightened his grip on the girl's wrist, quickening his pace.
But right then, Agastya's body tensed as a sharp, searing pain shot through his abdomen. His vision blurred for a moment, and his breath hitched. The cold steel of the dagger buried itself deep into his stomach.
His knees buckled, and he staggered forward, barely managing to catch himself on the marble floor. Blood seeped from the wound, warm and thick, staining his clothes as it dripped onto the pristine white tiles beneath him.