Chapter 21 The Underground Prison.
Inside a cold, dim underground prison, a bodyguard dressed in black respectfully handed over a phone.
Mr. Samuel glanced at the message on the screen and raised his right hand slightly. “Bring me Holly,” he ordered.
“Yes, sir.” The men behind him bowed and withdrew immediately.
Samuel turned his gaze toward the battered man lying on the ground.
He casually took a drag from the cigar between his fingers, exhaling a slow cloud of smoke.
His posture was relaxed, almost lazy.
You would never have guessed he had just personally beaten someone half to death.
Ten years. He had waited ten years for this.
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He had dreamed of peeling the man’s skin off piece by piece, soaking his hands in his blood, offering it to the restless spirits of his wife and daughter.
Several bodyguards hauled Darren’s bloodied body upright.
There wasn’t a patch of intact skin left on him. Only the ten–centimeter scar near his upper thigh stood out, cruel and vivid.
“Lock him in with the others,” Samuel said coldly.
The “others” were half–starved wolves, kept caged for moments like this.
He could have ended Darren’s life with a single shot. But that would have been too merciful. Far too merciful for what he had done.
Samuel was never a good man
–
he believed in paying evil with evil.
Last night, after receiving Windy’s video and photographs, Samuel had immediately ordered his men to move.
Darren was dragged back and given a brutal beating.
The moment Samuel confirmed the scar matched, he knew
–
this was the bastard he’d been searching for.
Throughout the night, Samuel interrogated him personally. Beating him. Breaking him.
And yet Darren clung stubbornly to one last secret – the names of the others who had taken part.
Samuel was ready to resort to more extreme measures.
Then Windy called.
She had a plan to dig out the remaining scum – but she needed a favor in return: Holly.
Half an hour later, a new storm was already brewing.
The footage of Darren’s betrayal had begun circulating in his old circle.
Without context, most wouldn’t have recognized him. But those who mattered, those who knew him… they knew.
Three hours later, inside a beat–up old Santana, a middle–aged man gripped his phone with trembling hands.
Call after call went unanswered.
“Faster.” Corey snapped at the driver, voice tight with panic.
Ten years of hiding. Ten years of pretending to be clean.
12:11 PM
Chapter 21 The Underground Prison
And now the walls were collapsing.
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By the time they reached their destination two hours later, Corey’s shirt was soaked in sweat.
He raced to the gate, hammering his fists against the doorbell, pounding on the metal with both hands.
Finally, a bodyguard in black and dark glasses opened the door a crack, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Who are you?”
Corey shoved past him, desperate. “I need to see Mr. Hyde! It’s urgent!”
The guard grabbed him by the wrist, twisting sharply.
Corey stiffened.
He hadn’t come looking for a fight. If he caused a scene, he might never even make it inside.
Swallowing his pride, he gritted out, “Corey. My name is Corey. I have important information for Mr. Hyde.”
The guard studied him a moment longer, then jerked his chin. “Wait here.”
A minute later, Corey was ushered in.
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As he followed the guard through the sprawling villa, Corey’s unease deepened. Everywhere he looked, there were men armed to the teeth, their cold eyes tracking his every step.
They wound through long corridors, past marble halls and glittering chandeliers.
Jesus, Corey thought grimly. This bastard’s made it big.
Inside the main lounge, the air smelled of rich tea leaves and polished wood.
At the center of the room, a plump man in a silk robe was leisurely brewing tea, as if he had all the time in the world.
Mr. Hyde.
A string of prayer beads draped over one wrist, another around his thick neck. It was a joke, really.
Everyone knew he wasn’t a man of faith.
Just a man with too many sins to carry.
Corey stumbled forward, voice shaking.
“Mr… Mr. Hyde, something’s happened. Big trouble.”
Hyde didn’t even glance at him.
He poured tea slowly, with the same calmness as if he were watering flowers.
Finally, after filling half a cup, he opened his mouth.
“Speak.”
Corey glanced nervously around the room.
Too many cars.
Lowering his voice, he pleaded, “Mr. Hyde, it’s… it’s not something we can talk about in front of others…”
Hyde set the teapot down with a soft clink.
With a wave of his hand, he dismissed most of the bodyguards.
Chapter 21 The Underground Prison
–
Only two remained his personal guards.
Corey knew who they were. Hyde’s shadow and blade.
Hyde leaned back lazily, taking a slow drag from a cigarette one of the guards lit for him.
And waited.
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1211 PM ·
Revenge Has Her Face
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