The leader's tone left no room for argument.
The bandits moved as a unit, heading toward their horses tied near the burning hut. They didn't look back at Mira. Didn't acknowledge the old man still desperately fighting the fire.
Just business. Failed business.
Viktor watched them mount up. Watched them prepare to ride off like nothing had happened.
And something inside him snapped.
"Hey."
His voice cut through the night, cold and sharp.
The leader paused, his hand on the reins.
"Fuckers. Where are you going?"
The rat-faced one looked back at Viktor, his expression almost pitying. Like he was looking at a child who didn't understand how the world worked.
The leader didn't even turn around. He just shook his head slightly, a dismissive gesture, and spurred his horse forward.
All four of them rode off into the darkness, hoofbeats fading until there was nothing but the crackle of flames and the old man's labored breathing.
They'd ignored him completely.
