Chapter 7 Bread, Blood, and Shovels

Evans’ POV

I slowly opened my eyes, my body heavy as if I had been asleep for a lifetime.

Please let this all be a nightmare.

The room was pitch black. I couldn’t see anything no matter how hard I tried. For a terrifying moment, I wondered if I was dead. A low groan escaped me as I tried to sit up. The floor was ice-cold, sending shivers racing through my aching body.

Every part of me hurt. My stomach growled painfully, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten in at least two days. I wrapped my arms around my belly, trying to ease the sharp cramps. My throat was dry and sore, my body reeked of sweat and dried blood, and a pounding headache made it hard to think straight.

Why won’t they just kill me instead of dragging this out?

I leaned my back against the cold wall and closed my eyes. Thoughts of Jothan and my mother flashed through my mind. They probably had no idea where I was. The sound of a heavy iron door creaking open snapped me out of my thoughts.

Footsteps approached in the darkness. I held my breath.

Suddenly, a switch flipped, and a dim light filled the room. I squinted, my eyes struggling to adjust. A woman wearing blue shorts and a black top stepped forward, carrying a tray. She stared at me with an unreadable expression before squatting down and sliding the tray toward me.

The smell of spaghetti and meatballs hit me like heaven. I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed the food and ate like a starved animal, barely chewing. It wasn’t until I was halfway done that the thought of poison crossed my mind. I paused for half a second… then kept eating.

If they wanted me dead, they wouldn’t need to poison me.

The woman stood at a distance, watching silently. When I finished every last bite and drained the cup of water, she spoke.

“You’re done?”

I nodded.

“Can you walk?”

I struggled to my feet. My legs were stiff and painful, but I managed. She turned and led the way without another word. I followed.

After walking for what felt like forever, we reached an open area on the outskirts of the clan compound. The place was thick with trees and bushes. Several men were working — cutting down trees, clearing branches, and digging with shovels under the watchful eyes of armed guards.

The woman whispered something to a huge, muscular man holding an AK-47. He glanced at me with clear disgust before barking, “Hey! You!”

He tossed a shovel at me. I caught it clumsily.

“Finish that section before sunset or you get no lunch,” he ordered, shoving past me.

I gripped the shovel tightly and began digging, each movement sending fresh pain through my battered body.

Jade’s POV

After completing my morning duties, I went to report to the Boss. I knocked and entered her office.

Kyla stood near her drawer, files scattered around. A pen knife, pistol, and two revolvers lay on her desk, cartridges open with bullets spread across the surface. Her office was rarely this disorganized — she was clearly planning something big.

“Boss,” I greeted.

She leaned against the table, folding her arms. “Speak.”

“He’s fine. No problems walking. He’s currently at the site… working.”

Kyla nodded, her sharp eyes never leaving my face. “Good. Anything else?”

I shook my head and turned to leave, but paused. “Is he allowed to bathe and change? He… stinks badly.”

“He’s a prisoner, Jade,” she replied coldly.

“I know, but he hasn’t bathed in two days.”

Kyla narrowed her eyes. “Since when did you start caring so much?”

I kept quiet. Just as I reached the door, her voice stopped me again.

“Wait. Let him clean up after work and give him food afterward.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Kyla exhaled and picked up the pen knife, testing its edge with her thumb. “We’ll be going to war with his father soon. He must have realized I have his son by now. Killing his wife and mother-in-law will keep him shaken for a while… but he will strike back. And when he does, we’ll be ready.”

A dangerous smirk formed on her lips. “It’s going to be fun killing the great ‘Lord Marshal’ — The Mask himself.”

She walked toward me slowly, her fingers gently brushing my cheek. Our faces were dangerously close. My heart raced. For a brief second, I let myself imagine things I knew were impossible.

“Boss,” Bruce’s voice suddenly cut through the tension.

We both turned. Bruce stood at the door, his eyes shifting between us before he spoke.

“I just received a message. Bianca is dead. Donald killed her.”

I froze.

Kyla sighed, rubbing her temple. “She was our informant inside the Blood Clan,” she finally explained.

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