Chapter 1 The Calmness
The cell smelled like rust and old sweat.
Cold iron bars. Flickering tube light. Walls that had heard too many confessions and too many screams to care anymore.
Five of them sat on the bench—Bloodline, quiet now, bruised and shaken.
Across the aisle, in another cell, the other group was still loud, still laughing, still acting like they owned the night.
Boots echoed on the floor.
A tired officer flipped through a notepad, bored eyes dragging over young faces.
“Alright,” he sighed, stopping in front of them.
“What exactly happened?”
No one answered.
The other group shouted from their side.
“They started it, sir.”
“These rich kids think they run the streets.”
“He smashed my face first!”
The officer rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah. Another teenage turf drama.”
He didn’t even look at the bruises properly.
Didn’t ask who was bleeding.
Didn’t care who was shaking.
Just another messy youth fight to dump in a cell and forget.
Nyxen sat still.
Back against the wall.
Arms loose.
Face calm, like this place was just another hallway he’d passed through before.
One of the girls whispered, voice tight with guilt,
“This is my fault… if I hadn’t—”
Nyxen cut in, lazy tone, almost bored.
“Relax. Happens.”
A boy beside him clenched his fists.
“You shouldn’t have stepped in, Nyx. It was my fight.”
Nyxen tilted his head, faint smirk.
“And let them break your jaw? Nah. Not cute.”
Like this was nothing.
Like iron bars were just scenery.
The officers moved toward the other cell.
Low voices.
Hands discreetly exchanging something.
Money.
Suddenly, the tone changed.
One officer turned back toward Bloodline, eyes sharper now, darker.
“Stand up.”
“What?” one of the girls whispered.
“Did I stutter?” the officer snapped. “Up. All of you.”
Nyxen’s smile faded. Just a little.
They didn’t question the other group.
Didn’t touch them.
Only Bloodline.
Hands grabbed collars.
A shove.
Someone stumbled.
Nyxen stood instantly, stepping forward, calm but deadly.
“Touch them again,” he said softly,
“and you’ll lose that hand.”
The officer laughed.
“Look at this one. Thinks he’s some hero.”
He shoved one of Nyxen’s friends harder.
Nyxen moved.
Not fast.
Not wild.
Just enough to place himself between them.
“Back off,” he said, voice low. “I’m warning you.”
The officer didn’t like that.
His fist came out of nowhere.
Crack.
Nyxen’s head snapped to the side.
Blood bloomed at his lip, dripping slow onto the floor.
The cell went dead silent.
Nyxen straightened.
Then—
he spat.
Right onto the officer’s face.
Red.
The officer froze.
“What the hell did you just—”
SLAP.
Hard.
Nyxen’s cheek burned, lip split wider.
And then…
he smiled.
Not playful.
Not soft.
Something sharp and wrong and beautiful.
He looked straight into the officer’s eyes and said, quietly,
“Congratulations.”
The officer frowned.
“For what?”
Nyxen’s smile widened.
“You just made the most regrettable mistake of your life.”
Then—
Nyxen laughed.
Not loud.
Not crazy.
Just… certain.
His friends felt it instantly.
One of them whispered, terrified,
“Oh no…”
The other group across the aisle stopped laughing.
Even they knew that tone.
The officer tried to grab Nyxen by the collar.
“You think you scare me, kid—”
Nyxen leaned in, blood on his mouth, eyes glowing like night fire.
“You just hit the wrong family’s dog,” he murmured.
“And they don’t let that go.”
For the first time, the officer hesitated.
“…What did you say?”
Nyxen leaned back against the bars, calm returning like nothing happened.
“Nothing,” he said sweetly.
“Just… wait.”
And somewhere outside that station,
phones were already ringing.
The station doors opened with a tired creak.
Aris walked in like he belonged to a different world.
Neat clothes. Straight posture. Calm eyes.
Not a scratch on him. Not a wrinkle out of place.
Behind him, a man in a dark suit — the lawyer — already flipping open a file, already prepared.
Aris didn’t look around.
Didn’t react to the noise or the smell or the tension.
He only asked, politely,
“I’m here for the five minors brought in an hour ago.”
The officer at the desk barely glanced up.
“Sit and wait.”
Aris nodded.
And waited.
Because as long as Nyxen walked out, nothing else mattered.
😡 The Complaining Officer
One of the officers stormed toward them, face red, jaw tight.
“These kids are getting real bold these days,” he snapped.
“One of them had the nerve to spit on me.”
Another officer scoffed.
“Brats with money. Think they can do whatever they want.”
“They’re not anyone important,” the first one added.
“Just some rich troublemakers. No need to take them seriously.”
Aris looked up then.
Not angry.
Not shocked.
Just… attentive.
His voice was soft. Civil. Almost gentle.
“Which one spit at you?”
The officer frowned.
“The one with the attitude. Dark hair. Thinks he runs the place.”
Aris nodded once.
“Thank you for clarifying.”
That was all.
No protest.
No argument.
But the lawyer beside him shifted, uneasy
Footsteps echoed.
The cell door opened.
One by one, Bloodline walked out.
Quiet.
Bruised.
Trying not to look scared.
Aris didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
Then he saw him.
Nyxen.
Split lip.
Red mark blazing across his cheek.
Blood dried near the corner of his mouth.
Walking like nothing happened.
Like pain was just another accessory.
Aris forgot the rest of the room.
The lawyer inhaled sharply.
“…Are we seriously leaving without addressing this?”
Aris didn’t answer.
Because Nyxen wasn’t looking at him.
Nyxen’s eyes were on the floor.
Not ashamed.
Just… avoiding.
Like he already knew.
The officers were watching now.
Because the boy who had been calm and polite?
Wasn’t that anymore.
Aris stood up slowly.
Not rushed.
Not shaking.
Just… steady.
He walked forward, stopping in front of Nyxen.
Didn’t touch him.
Didn’t speak to him.
Just looked.
Nyxen swallowed.
Still didn’t lift his eyes.
Aris turned to the officer who had complained earlier.
His voice was still polite.
But something in it had sharpened.
“Officer,” he said quietly,
“did you hit him?”
The officer stiffened.
“Watch your tone, kid—”
“I asked a simple question,” Aris cut in, calmly.
“Did you strike someone in custody?”
Silence.
Another officer laughed nervously.
“He was being disrespectful. We had to discipline him.”
Aris tilted his head slightly.
“Discipline,” he repeated.
Then, to the lawyer, without looking away from the officers:
“Do we have badge numbers?”
The lawyer straightened instantly.
“Yes. And security footage requests can be filed within the hour.”
The first officer’s face changed.
Not anger now.
Calculation.
“Look, let’s not make this a big—”
Aris interrupted, still soft, still controlled:
“You took money from the other group.”
Dead silence.
Someone swallowed.
Aris continued, voice like ice under silk:
“You assaulted minors in custody.”
“You attempted to intimidate witnesses.”
“And you assumed no one would care.”
He finally looked back at Nyxen.
Just for a second.
Then back to the officers.
“That assumption,” Aris said,
“was unwise.”
Nyxen lifted his eyes then.
Not angry.
Just… tired.
“Aris,” he murmured, barely audible.
“It’s fine.”
Aris didn’t look at him.
But his voice softened — just for him.
“It’s not.”
Then to the lawyer:
“Call their supervisors.”
“And Internal Affairs.”
The lawyer was already dialing.
One officer stepped back.
“You think you can just ruin our careers over a slap?”
Aris met his gaze.
Still calm.
Still polite.
But deadly sure.
“You already ruined them,” he said.
“I’m just making sure the paperwork knows.”
Bloodline stood frozen.
They had never seen Aris like this.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just… absolute.
And Nyxen?
For the first time since the cuffs clicked on…
He looked scared.
Not of the police.
But of what Aris was willing to do for him.
