Sascha had been dragged once again to the club that his boss, Viktor, owned. The place was filled with people, all eager to catch Viktor's attention, but he had no interest in any of them. Instead, Viktor went straight to the poor rent boy he always tormented with his endless demands. The moment Viktor laid eyes on him, the boy was immediately yanked from his place and pulled into one of Viktor's private rooms in the club.

Sascha, as much as he hated these outings, followed his usual routine. He stood guard at the door, fulfilling his role as Viktor's bodyguard for the night. He didn't want to follow them inside; he knew all too well what happened behind those closed doors, and it made him sick. Какой ублюдок... He could only wait outside, listening to the muffled noises and the passing time.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Viktor emerged from the room, his mood as arrogant as ever. He didn't even glance at Sascha as he left to find more entertainment elsewhere in the club. Once Viktor was out of sight, Sascha waited a few moments longer, making sure he was truly gone before he cautiously opened the door.

He forgot to knock—an old habit he still hadn't shaken off.

Inside, the boy was slumped on the couch, looking exhausted from whatever had happened there. The sight of him, bruised and used, made Sascha's stomach twist. бедный мальчик, having to endure this over and over. Sascha immediately averted his eyes, not wanting the boy to think he was prying or judging. He searched the room quickly and found a blanket in one of the drawers. Blindly, he extended it toward the boy, his eyes still closed.

"Sorry for... entering without knocking," Sascha said, his voice gruff but laced with genuine concern. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

He felt the blanket being taken from his hand and let out a small breath of relief. At least the boy wouldn't be cold now.

"Can I open my eyes now?" he asked gently, still keeping his gaze averted.