"Why don’t you say that to my face?!!" Mr Wace demanded.


    Bruce, who had been quiet the entire time, finally stood from the chair beside him. "If you keep treating them like dogs, don’t be surprised when they start biting back."


    Mr. Wace scoffed, waving him off. "We’ll find more people. There’s always someone desperate enough."


    "You really believe that?" Bruce snapped, eyes narrowed. "In this situation? Look around you, Wace. We’re cornered like rats. We can’t get to the airport, the train station’s locked down, the borders are sealed. We can’t step outside without risking capture. And you think men will still be lining up to work for us? Get real."


    Mr Wace was quiet because no matter how much he wanted to argue with Bruce, he was right.


    Not much longerter, a knock was heard.


    "Who the hell is it now?" Mr Wace asked, exasperation evident in his tone.


    Another henchman—this one thinner, twitchier, and less battered—stepped into the room.


    "Boss, I was able to contact another one of the guards at the baby factory, and he said that Xander ns to burn down the ce."


    Mr Wace immediately froze as if a bucket of cold water had sshed on him.


    "That’s impossible," Bruce was the one who spoke. "What is that fool thinking?"


    Mr Wace was still too stunned to speak.


    "Something must be done about this. We can’t let this happen. I put my hard work into building that ce. Xander is not going to throw it out the window just like that," Bruce added, a determined look on his face.


    He attempted to sit up from the chair he was on the whole time but hissed in pain as his hands quickly went to his chest, gripping it hard.


    The bandage wrapped around his chest where Xander had shot him soaked with his own blood.


    "Shit," he cursed.


    Since they were not able to go to a doctor or be able to bring one in order to receive treatment, they resolved to what they knew by simply taking out the bullet and disinfecting it but Bruce was aware that was not enough.


    Unlike Mr. Wace’s gun wound, his was more riskier and he could die at any moment since he wasn’t receiving treatment.


    "No," he said atst, voice trembling with fury. "No, no, no! We can’t let this happen. That bitch Anastasia had to stick her nose where it didn’t belong. Now they’re turning everything to ash?"


    He turned to the waiting henchman, barking orders. "Find out the exact date. I want details. Then gather men—anyone. Friends, enemies, whoever. Tell them I’ll reward them handsomely if they help me put a bullet in everyst one of those traitors!"


    The man nodded and turned to leave.


    Mr. Wace faced Bruce. "Why don’t you try to reach out to Samantha? She can still help us. She’s your daughter!"


    Bruce scoffed as if he’d heard themest jokes. "You think like a fool. If she had any loyalty left, it died the moment she knew I helped you get rid of Arabe."


    Outside, the first henchman who’d spoken to Mr Wace took a puff of his cigarette as he red at the second one who’d entered right after him.


    "Why did you have to tell them that? Now they want you to gather more men," he scoffed.


    "They only want to get back what was taken from them," the second one defended, inserting a sim card into his phone, ready to make a few phone calls.


    "At our expense? You saw what happened a few days ago. A lot of our friends died when Xavier attacked, and it was only by luck that we managed to survive. And now you’re telling me we have to go through the same thing just so they could get their revenge? Oh please."


    The second one paused. "If you don’t want to do this anymore, just leave and stop giving me a headache," he snapped. "I’m doing what a loyal man would do, even if it means I die in the process, as long as they get their revenge, I’ll be satisfied."


    The first one slowly shook his head, as it dawned on him that he was surrounded by fools.