The man with the scarred face banged on the fitting room door again, his impatience growing.

  "I'm talking to you! Get out of there before I break it down myself!" he roared, slamming his shoulder against the door.

  The groaning wood echoed through the boutique, drawing muffled shrieks from the customers who huddled closer to the floor.

  María froze in place, cold sweat running down her back as she watched, helpless. But before the man could shove the door again, a scream of pure agony tore through the air.

  "My hand!" the thief howled, stumbling backward.

  Blood poured from his wrist—where his hand had been seconds ago.

  He crumpled to the floor, writhing in pain as he clutched the stump, while the other thieves turned toward him, alarmed.

  "What the hell just happened?!" one of them shouted, instinctively stepping back.

  At that moment, the fitting room door creaked open.

  There, bathed in the golden light of the boutique's lamps, stood Aria, holding the black dress she'd selected moments earlier. Her eyes, calm and expressionless, stood in sharp contrast to the chaos erupting around her.

  She walked forward with measured steps, not sparing a glance at the man writhing on the ground in agony.

  "Wait! Who—?" one of the thieves began, but his words caught in his throat as Aria raised a hand, her movement almost nonchalant.

  An instant later, the injured man’s head hit the floor with a heavy thud.

  Blood sprayed across the boutique’s pristine marble floor, eliciting a chorus of screams from the customers and employees.

  "She’s a mage!" one of the thieves shouted, his wide eyes darting around in terror.

  "Grab the women! Use them as hostages!" barked another, pointing at the customers still crouched on the floor.

  In a matter of seconds, the thieves seized several women, dragging them to the center of the store with daggers pressed against their necks. One of them was the employee who had been helping Aria earlier, her face a mask of sheer panic as she was yanked forward.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  "If you try anything else, someone dies!" one of the men snarled, pressing his blade harder against a sobbing customer’s throat.

  Aria came to an abrupt halt. Her icy gaze swept over the scene, calculating each move with an eerie calm.

  Slowly, she raised both hands, as if surrendering.

  "Alright. I won’t do anything else."

  Her tone was flat, devoid of emotion, as if the situation hardly mattered to her.

  The thieves exchanged glances, visibly unsettled by the girl’s composure.

  "That’s better," one of them muttered, flashing a nervous grin.

  But without warning, Aria clenched her small fists. From the shadows cast by the racks and shelves, black spikes shot out—dark as obsidian.

  With deadly precision, the spikes pierced the necks of the armed men, dropping them to the floor in an instant.

  Silence descended upon the boutique like a heavy curtain. The thieves lay lifeless, their blood pooling around them. Not a single hostage had been harmed.

  María, still lying on the floor, felt the air leave her lungs. Her eyes darted to Aria, struggling to process what had just transpired.

  The girl, however, remained unfazed, still holding the black dress in her hands.

  "Done," Aria murmured, as if she’d just crossed a trivial chore off her list.

  A ripple of whispers broke out among the customers and employees.

  "What… what just happened?" one woman stammered, staring in horror at the bodies.

  "That girl… she…" another woman began, her voice faltering.

  "She’s a witch! That’s witchcraft!" a third shrieked, recoiling instinctively.

  The employee who had been helping Aria stood trembling, her wide eyes flicking from the corpses to the girl’s serene face.

  "How… how could she do something like that?" she whispered, a mix of awe and fear in her voice.

  Before anyone could utter another word, the door to the back room burst open. A woman, impeccably dressed with her hair in a flawless bun, stepped out.

  Her eyes widened as she took in the scene—the bodies, the terrified customers, and the bloodstained floor.

  "My heavens! What happened here?" she gasped, clutching her chest.

  "It was… it was a mage…" one of the employees stammered, her trembling hand pointing toward Aria.

  Every gaze in the room shifted to the girl, who remained perfectly calm.

  The woman in charge approached Aria, looking her over as if searching for some clue that this child could really be responsible.

  "Was it you?" she asked, her voice a blend of disbelief and cautious respect.

  "Yes," Aria answered simply, her tone devoid of any trace of emotion.

  The woman blinked, struggling to find words. Finally, she gave a slight bow—a gesture of gratitude.

  "I… I must thank you. You saved our lives. But… could we speak privately for a moment? I’d like to understand what happened."

  Aria gave a small nod.

  "Alright. But make it quick."

  The woman swallowed hard, clearly unnerved by the girl’s composure.

  What kind of upbringing had this child received to kill so effortlessly, without showing the slightest hint of remorse?

  If there was one thing to uncover here, it was the family to which this enigmatic girl belonged.