Chapter 6 - Mirror of Scars
Julian crouched down beside Maisie, ignoring the dirt that threatened to stain the pristine fabric of his custom Italian trousers. Up close, the scars on Cyrus’s body told a brutal story of abuse — burn marks from cigarettes, deep gouges from barbed wire, and the distinct, surgical-looking incisions of a fighting ring where dogs were drugged and tortured into submission.
Julian reached out a gloved hand, moving it slowly toward the dog's flank. Cyrus tensed instantly, a warning growl rumbling in his throat, his muscles hardening like iron cables.
“Don't,” Maisie warned softly, without turning her head. “You smell like gunpowder and old anger. He remembers that smell.”
Julian froze. His hand hovered an inch above the dog's fur. He looked at his own black leather glove, then at the stark contrast of Maisie’s small, bare hands moving effortlessly over the beast's coat.
“You think I’m like the men who broke him, don't you?” Julian asked, his voice flat, devoid of its usual arrogant command.
“I don't know what you are,” Maisie answered honestly, her sightless eyes turning vaguely toward where his voice was coming from. “But you're carrying a lot of heavy things. Your shoulders are tight. You scream just as loud as he does, Mr. Hart. You just use money and guns instead of teeth.”
A sharp, humorless chuckle escaped Julian’s lips. It was the first time anyone in his inner circle had ever heard him laugh in genuine surprise. He lowered his hand, resting it on his knee, and studied the child with a newly awakened intensity.
“You've got a lot of nerve talking to the head of the Hart Syndicate like that, little one,” Julian said, though there was no heat in his words.
“I can't see your suits or your guns,” Maisie said simply, continuing her slow, rhythmic petting behind Cyrus’s ears as the dog let out a deep, contented sigh. “I only know what people are made of by the sound of their steps. Yours are heavy. Like you're walking through a graveyard you built yourself.”
Julian went completely still. The words struck him like a physical blow. A graveyard he built himself. Every betrayal, every execution, every cold-blooded business deal that had cemented his empire came rushing back into his mind. He looked down at Cyrus, who was now slowly shifting his massive weight, turning completely around until he was lying down with his head resting squarely across Maisie’s small sneakers, effectively trapping her in place not as a prisoner, but as a guardian.
May you like
“He chose her,” Viktor muttered from the edge of the cage, his voice laced with absolute awe. “Boss... the dog actually chose her.”
“He didn't just choose her,” Julian said slowly, standing up to his full height and adjusting his jacket. He looked across the arena toward Leo, who was still being held back by the enforcers. “He adopted her. Which means, by extension, they both belong to us now.”
