Traces of the Past

Traces of the Past

The men's echoing footsteps thundered as they rushed down the stairs, the child safely nestled in their padded bag.

"Are you having fun?" the man questioned upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, just before the exit, holding a bag with baby items. The three stopped abruptly. Immediately, the henchmen aimed their guns at Matheus.

"You know you can't kill me, right?" Matheus asked confidently, a smirk playing on his lips. Braston just caught his breath and descended the rest of the stairs, signaling for the men to lower their weapons. "But if you want some trouble..." Matheus commented, reaching for the knife at his waist.

"This isn't the time for conflict, especially with a child in the middle," Braston warned impartially, stopping in front of Matheus without flinching.

"Not yet," Matheus retorted, his voice laced with threat. "But know that you three will die by my hands." However, it wasn't the henchmen he was threatening with this conversation, and Braston knew