Intro. The tavern smelled of cheap rum and broken promises. Men gambled, fought and traded as if life was worth no more than a few gold coins. In the darkest corner of the room, Dante Varela watched the scene with golden and cold eyes, a wolf among lambs.
The girl's father arrived hesitantly, sweating under the flickering candlelight. His trembling fingers held the bottle too tightly, as if alcohol could erase the weight of the decision he had made.
The young woman stood next to him, her fists clenched against the worn fabric of her dress. Her gaze was a mixture of despair and incredulity, as if her mind refused to believe what was about to happen.
Dante didn't need to hear the words. He already knew.
With a slow and calculated movement, he threw a bag of coins on the table. The sound of gold echoed in the sudden silence that engulfed the tavern. The father looked at the money, then at his daughter.
She tried to retreat, but Dante was already on his feet. Tall, imposing, a predator