See more on my P@treon.
[email protected]/Dreamerlord Just replace @ with a
******
Storm stepped upstairs and immediately spotted Sharon working on her laptop.
"I'll be leaving for a short while. If anything urgent happens, call me fast," he said as he passed her.
"Where are you going?" Sharon asked.
"I'm going to recruit someone. Since Ethan sama don't trust anyone easily, I will recruit people and train them for him." Storm replied before heading for the door.
Sharon nodded, watching him leave.
"He looks scary and cool as hell…" she muttered before going back to her work.
With his talent for this kind of work, it didn't take Storm Shadow long to locate the juvenile detention center.
But by the time he arrived, the place had already lost Grant Ward—and someone had taken him away.
"This can't do… it was my first task given by Ethan-sama. I cannot fail," Storm muttered, eyes narrowing as he examined the scene.
He moved quickly, pulling camera footage, guard logs, and transport records. After a few minutes, he spotted the man responsible.
"He's the one," Storm said quietly as he studied the footage. A face appeared on the screen. After a bit of search, Storm learned his name.
John Garrett.
He was the one who had taken Grant Ward. And according to the timestamps, he had retrieved the boy just a few months ago.
Tracking them wasn't easy.
Garrett was smart—too smart. He covered his tracks, changed routes often, and used dead zones in surveillance as if he knew exactly where every camera in the city was placed.
Storm followed faint traces: tire marks on unpaved roads, shadows caught at the edges of traffic cams, deleted transport logs he managed to recover. Piece by piece, the trail led him onward.
Hours turned into days, days into weeks. A whole month passed before he finally found the boy.
Grant Ward was alive, but barely. He had been left alone in a remote forest, surviving on whatever he could find. The boy was lean, wary, and cautious, having learned quickly to avoid danger.
Garrett visited from time to time, checking on him, ensuring he didn't starve or wander too far—but never staying long. The visits were enough to keep him alive, but not enough to teach him anything about the world or keep him safe from real threats.
Storm observed from a distance, calculating the safest way to approach. His mission was simple: retrieve the boy and get him out before anything else could happen.
"A thirsty soul… he reminds me of myself," Storm murmured as he watched Ward.
The boy's eyes kept drifting toward the forest path—waiting, hoping for John Garrett to return, desperate for even a scrap of praise. But Garrett never gave it. To Ward, the man was some kind of savior… yet Storm saw only manipulation.
Storm dropped silently from the tree branch and finally approached the boy.
"You're one broken kid," Storm said calmly.
Grant, who had been hunting a rabbit, jerked backward in fear. He pointed the crude spear he'd made—but when he blinked, Storm had already moved behind him.
"Don't bother," Storm said from above as he stood on a tree branch. "You can't hit me."
"W‑who are you?" Grant demanded, stepping back, eyes wide.
"Your new master," Storm replied, dropping lightly to the ground.
Grant stiffened. "I—I already have one."
"Unless you want to keep living alone in this forest with that psychopath," Storm said sharply, "you should come with me. Stay here, and you'll end up in the same hell he came from. Follow him long enough, and you'll die a horrible death. Follow him, and you will fall."
Grant swallowed hard, fists clenched.
Storm took a step closer, voice firm but not unkind.
"Maybe you're a young, stubborn kid. Fine. But I won't give you another chance. Either come with me… or stay here and be used by that man until you break."
The wind rustled through the trees as Grant looked between the empty forest path—and Storm.
"Why do you want me?" Grant asked.
"The same reason that man chose you," Storm replied. "You can kill."
Grant flinched, but Storm continued, voice steady.
"But unlike him, I won't force you down a path with no return. Tell me—do you wish to die one day hated by everyone? Or do you wish to become a hero?"
Storm knew exactly what he was doing. He had already read Grant like an open book.
The boy craved praise. He desperately wanted to be seen as good. As worthy.
"Why should I believe you?" Grant asked, suspicious and scared. "How do I know you're not like him?"
"At least," Storm said, gesturing to the ground, "I'm giving you a choice."
He tossed a tablet at Grant's feet.
"Pick it up. See for yourself what kind of man he is."
Grant hesitated… then crouched and lifted the tablet. As he scrolled, his eyes widened.
John Garrett.
His past.
His crimes.
None of it was pretty.
"Follow him, and you'll end up just like him," Storm said calmly. "Or you can follow me. I will train you—and one day, you'll become a bodyguard for my master."
"Your… master?" Grant asked uncertainly.
"He's almost your age. Just two years younger. He's smarter than both of us—spends his entire day building technology instead of socializing. And I am his protector. I'm alone… so I need someone else beside him."
Grant swallowed. "What's his name?"
"Ethan Cliff," Storm answered simply. "That is my master."
Grant looked down at the tablet again, then back at the empty path John Garrett usually came from.
"…Fine. I'll follow you," he finally said. "But if he turns out to be like Garrett, I'll leave."
Storm nodded once.
"I assure you, such a situation will never happen. And with me… you'll learn how to be a better man."
Grant quietly followed Storm out of the forest, leaving behind the life Garrett had forced onto him.
Three days later, when John Garrett came at his usual time, he didn't find Ward—only a shelter and a dead body. It was a decoy left by Storm, while both he and Grant were actively observing Garrett through hidden cameras.