Leon had a feeling something was off the moment he entered the darkened corner of the barracks. The shadows were longer, the air heavier, and the silence thicker than usual. He scanned the dim room, his gaze catching on Grig, who was leaning against the far wall, a smug grin plastered on his rat-like face.
Leon took a slow breath. He had been through enough betrayals in his past life to know when one was about to drop.
"Well, well, well," Grig drawled, his voice as slick as oil. "Look who's come crawling back for his medicine."
Leon kept his face neutral, but inside, his instincts were already screaming at him to prepare for a fight. He approached Grig cautiously, his muscles tense. "You got what I asked for?"
Grig's grin widened. "Oh, I got it, alright." He patted the small leather pouch hanging at his waist, the one Leon knew was supposed to be filled with the supplies he had traded for. "But there's been a... change in price."
Leon felt the anger boil beneath his skin, but he forced it down. Patience. He needed to play this smart. "Change in price? We had a deal, Grig."
Grig snorted, pushing off the wall and stepping closer, his bony fingers drumming on the pouch. "Yeah, well, deals around here tend to change faster than an overseer's whip hand. You want your medicine? It's gonna cost you more than a sack of rotten bread and some scrap."
Leon's jaw tightened. He wasn't surprised, but that didn't make it any less infuriating. Grig had always been a snake, slithering through every crack he could find, twisting every deal to suit himself. But this? This was pushing it.
"And what exactly is the new price?" Leon asked, his voice cold, eyes locked on Grig's.
Grig's grin turned even nastier. "More food. Better quality this time. And I want that half-knife you've been carrying around. Oh, and a little extra labor on the side. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. Simple, right?"
Leon's hand twitched toward the half-knife in his belt, the one he had scavenged for protection, not for bartering. His blood pounded in his ears, the fury rising inside him like a tidal wave, but he held it back. Barely.
He stepped closer to Grig, his voice dropping to a low growl. "You do realize you're playing with fire, right? I'm not some starving, desperate fool you can push around."
Grig's eyes gleamed in the dim light, and he leaned in, the stench of his breath hitting Leon like a wave of rot. "No, Leon. You're worse. You're someone with nothing left to lose. And that makes you predictable. You'll pay the new price, because you need what I've got."
Leon stared at him, feeling the familiar tension coil through his body—the same tension he had felt countless times before, right before a fight broke out, right before someone got hurt. But this wasn't the battlefield, and Grig wasn't some soldier who could be outsmarted with strategy. Grig was a scavenger, a parasite, and parasites were always dangerous.
Leon forced a smile, dark and humorless. "You think you've got the upper hand, don't you?"
Grig laughed, a short, harsh sound. "I know I do. You want your precious medicine? Then you better get to work."
For a moment, Leon considered it—considered just handing over what Grig wanted, letting him win this round, biding his time until he could come up with a better plan. But then the reality of the situation slammed into him like a brick wall. He was in a world that didn't care if he lived or died. There were no second chances here. If he let Grig walk all over him now, it would never stop.
And that wasn't something Leon could afford.
His smile faded, replaced by a cold, hard look that sent a shiver through Grig. "You know what, Grig? You're right. I do have nothing left to lose."
Grig's grin faltered for just a second, but he quickly recovered, his eyes narrowing. "Yeah? So what?"
Leon moved faster than Grig could react, grabbing the smaller man by the throat and slamming him against the wall. The crack of bone on stone echoed through the barracks, and Grig gasped, his eyes wide with shock as Leon's fingers tightened around his neck.
"You think you can squeeze me for more, you little rat?" Leon hissed, his voice a deadly whisper. "You think you can keep pushing until I break? I've been through hell, Grig. And I've survived worse than you."
Grig choked, clawing at Leon's hand, his face turning red as he struggled to breathe. His pouch jangled as it hit the ground, and Leon's eyes flicked toward it, knowing the medicine was inside. He was tempted—so tempted—to just take it and walk away. But that wouldn't solve the real problem.
Grig needed to understand who he was dealing with.
Leon leaned in closer, his voice low and dark. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to give me the medicine, and I'm going to pretend this little conversation never happened. Because if you don't, I'm going to make sure that next time, you don't have the luxury of breathing at all. Got it?"
Grig's eyes bulged, his hands flailing, desperate to pry Leon's grip from his throat. He nodded frantically, his voice reduced to a gurgling sound as he tried to speak.
Satisfied, Leon released him, watching as Grig crumpled to the floor, gasping for air. For a long moment, there was only the sound of Grig's ragged breathing and the soft clink of the medicine pouch as Leon bent down to retrieve it.
He held the pouch in his hand, weighing it carefully, then glanced back at Grig, who was still coughing and clutching his throat. "Next time, don't forget who's in charge."
Grig glared up at him, but the fear in his eyes was unmistakable. Leon knew it all too well. The look of a man who thought he had control, only to realize too late that he had none.
Leon turned to leave, but paused at the door, glancing back over his shoulder with a grim smile. "Oh, and Grig? If you try this again, I'll make sure you never see another deal in this camp. I'll trade your sorry ass instead."
Grig didn't respond, too busy trying to catch his breath. But Leon didn't need a response. The message had been sent.
As Leon stepped out into the yard, the cold air hitting his face, he couldn't help but chuckle darkly to himself. This world was brutal, unforgiving, and filled with men like Grig—men who would stab you in the back for a handful of scraps. But Leon had dealt with worse. He had survived worse.
"Welcome to the new world," he muttered to himself, the bitter humor thick in his voice. "Same shit, different stink."