Fenrir felt the rough shove against his ribs as he was thrown into the back of a van.
His side hit the cold, ridged floor of the vehicle and the clang of the doors slamming shut echoed in the dark, metallic space.
He didn't resist, keeping his breathing shallow and steady, letting his body sag limply like a true captive might.
The engine growled to life, and the vehicle sped off, jostling him with every bump in the road.
Muted voices reached his ears—gruff, joking, careless.
"Kid's probably wetting himself right now. These rich kids are all the same. One scare and they break."
"Think we can sell him off? Or should we just call for ransom first?"
"Heard his folks have old money. We can name our price."
So that was their game.
'They think I'm some rich useless heir.'
Fenrir almost smiled. He let his expression twitch faintly—just enough to match their expectations—and slumped deeper into the floor.
The car eventually came to a stop.
