The morning air was thick with the stench of last night's rain as Jarek, Sylva, and Tobias moved through Rookhaven's lower district.
They had left the Hollow Oak Inn before sunrise, not wanting to stick around long enough for more assassins to find them.
Jarek's ribs ached from the fight last night, but he ignored it. They had bigger problems.
Rowan Kane.
A brute of a man, Kane was Caden's enforcer—the kind of guy who broke bones for fun and had no qualms about silencing anyone who stood in his way.
"Where do we even start?" Tobias muttered, yawning. "The city's huge."
Sylva adjusted her hood, her sharp eyes scanning the streets. "The Duke's information was solid. Kane operates out of the Rustyard."
Jarek frowned. "Rustyard?"
"A slum," Sylva explained. "Filled with abandoned forges and factories. A perfect place for men like Kane to hide."
Jarek smirked. "Then let's go knock on his door."
The Rustyard
The Rustyard was a rotting skeleton of a district, a place where industry had once thrived but was now nothing more than a graveyard of rusted metal and forgotten ambition.
The streets were uneven, the buildings covered in grime and soot. The air reeked of oil and sweat, and watchful eyes peered from behind boarded-up windows.
Jarek rolled his shoulders. "This place has charm."
Tobias snorted. "If by 'charm' you mean 'a high chance of getting stabbed,' then yeah. Plenty of it."
Sylva was already moving. "Stay sharp. Kane's men will be watching."
They moved cautiously through the alleys, avoiding the main streets where gangs of thugs loitered.
Then, they found what they were looking for.
A warehouse near the Rustyard's center.
Large. Heavily guarded. The Duke's spies had confirmed it was Kane's base of operations.
Jarek grinned. "I was hoping for something more dramatic, but this works."
Tobias groaned. "Why do I feel like you're about to do something stupid?"
Jarek stepped forward. "Because I am."
And then, without warning—
He walked straight toward the front entrance.
A Not-So-Warm Welcome
The guards at the warehouse door immediately went on high alert.
Three men, all heavily armed, tensed as Jarek approached.
"Who the hell are you?" one of them growled, resting a hand on his sword.
Jarek grinned, his hands raised casually. "Relax, fellas. I'm just here to talk."
The largest of the three—a bald brute with a scar across his nose—stepped forward. "No one talks to Kane without an invitation."
Jarek chuckled. "That's funny. Because last I checked, he's not the type to turn down a challenge."
The men stiffened.
The bald one narrowed his eyes. "What kind of challenge?"
Jarek smirked. "A fight. Me versus Kane. No weapons. Just fists. Winner walks away. Loser… well, let's not worry about that part."
Tobias, from his hiding spot, whispered, "Oh, for the love of—"
The guards looked at each other, hesitating.
Then, one of them shrugged. "Kane does love breaking bones."
The bald brute cracked his knuckles. "Fine. But don't say we didn't warn you."
Jarek grinned. "Wouldn't dream of it."
The doors creaked open, and Jarek stepped inside.
Rowan Kane
The warehouse was dimly lit, with torches casting long, flickering shadows.
Crates were stacked high, filled with stolen goods and contraband. The air was thick with smoke and sweat, the unmistakable scent of a place where bad men gathered.
At the far end of the room, sitting on a makeshift throne of barrels, was Rowan Kane.
He was even bigger than Jarek had imagined—six and a half feet of solid muscle, his arms like tree trunks, his knuckles scarred from years of brawling.
His dark eyes locked onto Jarek, and a slow grin spread across his face.
"Well, well," Kane rumbled. "Looks like I've got entertainment today."
Jarek smirked. "Thought I'd drop by. Heard you like a good fight."
Kane laughed—a deep, booming sound. "That depends. Are you any good?"
Jarek cracked his knuckles. "Guess we'll find out."
Kane stood, towering over him. The room fell silent as his men gathered around.
"No weapons," Kane said. "Just fists."
Jarek nodded. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
The crowd backed up, forming a rough circle around them.
Kane rolled his shoulders. "Let's see if you can last more than a minute."
And then—
He charged.
The Fight
Jarek barely had time to react.
Kane moved fast for a man his size, closing the distance in seconds. His first punch came like a battering ram—Jarek barely dodged, feeling the air whoosh past his face.
CRACK!
The punch hit a wooden crate, shattering it instantly.
Jarek's eyes widened. "Okay, yeah. That would've killed me."
Kane grinned. "Too slow."
Jarek didn't argue. Instead, he shifted his stance, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Kane was a powerhouse, but power meant nothing if you couldn't land a hit.
Kane lunged again.
Jarek sidestepped, driving his fist into Kane's ribs.
Kane barely flinched.
Then, he grabbed Jarek's wrist and yanked.
Jarek's world flipped upside down as he was hurled across the warehouse.
He crashed into a pile of crates.
Pain exploded in his back.
Tobias, watching from the shadows, winced. "Yep, he's dead."
Jarek groaned and pushed himself up. "Okay. That sucked."
Kane cracked his neck. "Had enough?"
Jarek spat out blood. "Not even close."
Then he charged.
This time, he ducked low, avoiding Kane's swinging fist and drove his knee into the big man's stomach.
Kane grunted, but before Jarek could follow up—
A massive fist slammed into his ribs.
Jarek staggered. Kane grabbed him by the collar and threw him again.
Jarek rolled, barely avoiding another stomp.
Pain pulsed through his body, but he refused to fall.
He watched Kane's movements carefully.
There.
A slight hesitation in his right leg.
An old injury.
Jarek grinned through the pain. "Got you."
Kane frowned. "What?"
Jarek faked left—then kicked Kane's bad knee with all his strength.
Kane roared in pain, stumbling.
Jarek didn't waste a second.
He pivoted and drove his fist into Kane's jaw.
CRACK.
Kane's head snapped back.
Jarek followed up with a devastating right hook, then a swift uppercut to the ribs.
Kane staggered.
Jarek exhaled. "Still standing?"
Kane grinned, blood dripping from his lip. "Barely."
Jarek rolled his shoulders. "Then let's fix that."
And charged again.