Prologue
Jean’s POV
“Shall I let you in?” Matico whispered softly to me, his voice barely audible over the quiet hum of the night. Every sound felt amplified here — the faint rustle of leaves, the distant bark of a dog, even our own steady breathing. One careless noise, and everything we had worked for would crumble to pieces.
I bit down hard on my lower lip, my jaw tightening with suppressed tension, before giving him a firm nod. My heart hammered loudly against my ribs, but I forced myself to stay calm. This was not the time to lose my nerve.
“Are you sure?” he asked once more, his eyes searching mine with genuine worry. He knew just how high the stakes were.
I nodded again, more determined this time.
“What if someone sees us here? We will definitely be found out,” he reminded me, his tone heavy with caution.
I simply shook my head. There was no turning back now.
“I trust you,” I said quietly, my voice steady despite the nervous flutters in my chest.
His expression softened, and he returned his gaze to the container he was holding carefully in both hands.
“But Jean, is this really all right? What if something leaks out from inside?” he asked again, his brow furrowed.
I shook my head once more. “Take it slowly,” I instructed him in a low, controlled tone.
He bit his lip tightly, gathering his resolve, before obeying my command. His movements were deliberate and gentle, every step calculated to avoid making even the slightest clink or spill. I kept my eyes fixed on him the entire time, watching every small motion, ready to signal him to stop at the first sign of trouble.
A heavy, weary sigh of relief escaped my chest once he had successfully placed the container of blood inside the refrigerator, pushing it back slightly so it would not be immediately noticeable. The hardest part was over.
“Done,” he whispered with a small, relieved smile before tapping me gently on the shoulder. “Let’s go. It will be extremely dangerous if they catch us here, especially you.”
I offered him a faint, grim smile in reply. There was no need to say anything else. I followed closely behind Matico as he made his way toward the veranda. This was the same quiet, shadowed route we had used to sneak inside, so this was also the path we had to take to get back out.
It was pitch‑black outside, the night sky covered by thick clouds that hid the moon and stars. I was certain that no one would be able to spot us in the deep darkness. I adjusted the black cloth draped over my face, pulling it down a little lower to conceal my features completely, then gripped the cold metal baluster firmly before carefully climbing down. Once we had both safely reached the ground, we ducked behind the thick trunk of a large, leafy tree and quickly changed into ordinary civilian clothes. We stuffed the dark, suspicious garments we had been wearing earlier into a sturdy canvas bag, making sure to zip it closed securely so nothing would fall out or leave a trail behind us.
“Are you sure Mr. Dutch will like that bloody gift?” Matico asked with a grin as we began walking back toward our hideout. The tension had loosened a little for him now that we were away from the enemy’s territory.
I shot him a sharp, warning glare. We were still out in the open, and we could not afford to be speaking about such things so casually, especially when our enemies could be lurking somewhere nearby, patrolling the roads or hiding in the shadows.
“Sorry, Master Jean,” he mumbled, looking down at his feet.
I shook my head, reached over, and tapped his shoulder lightly. “Don’t call me master,” I whispered. It never sat right with me. I did not want unnecessary distance between me and the men who fought beside me.
He immediately fell silent, nodding in understanding.
The walk back felt long and tiring. Our legs were sore from all the careful climbing and sneaking, and my mind was racing with thoughts of what would happen next. Every step we took brought us closer to the moment Mr. Dutch would discover what we had left for him. After what felt like forever, we finally arrived at our hideout. My men came forward to greet us, their faces lighting up when they saw that we had returned safely, and they took the heavy equipment we had been carrying from our hands.
“How did it go, Jean?” one of them asked.
I smiled when I heard him use my name. I had never liked being addressed as master. I preferred that they simply call me by my name, even though I stood above all of them in rank and authority. We were all here for the same reason — to make Mr. Dutch pay for the life he had stolen.
I sank down into my swivel chair and turned to face all of them, resting my elbows on the rough wooden table before me. “Tomorrow morning, we will wait for Mr. Dutch’s reaction to the gift we left for him.”
“But Jean, why did you give that to that man? I thought you wanted revenge for what he did,” Cyan, one of my most trusted men, spoke up, his tone confused.
A cold, bitter smile spread across my lips as I turned to look at him. “I want him to enjoy the taste first, before he feels the pain,” I answered. Revenge was not meant to be quick and easy. I wanted him to anticipate it, to wonder, and then to feel every bit of it.
They all nodded in understanding, though I could see the grimness in their faces.
“What exactly did you put inside that blood container?” another one of them asked curiously.
His question jogged my memory. I had almost forgotten to tell them the details.
“To be honest with you, it was the blood of a lizard mixed with tumbtaks,” I revealed.
Their faces all showed clear surprise when they heard what I had said. They had not expected something so unsettling, yet symbolic.
What I had done was nothing compared to what he had done to my brother, and to all of us. Ever since he had killed my brother, there was no longer any room for forgiveness inside my heart. The pain that Mr. Dutch would feel because of what I had prepared for him would only be a small fraction of the agony my brother had suffered at his hands. My brother did not deserve to die the way he did. He was a good man who only fought for people who had no one else to fight for them.
When the time finally comes for me to stand face‑to‑face with him, I want to see him fall to his knees, trembling, begging and pleading for mercy. Tss. He will learn that you cannot take someone’s life and walk away from it unpunished.
