This was the most soul destroying chapter I’ve ever written!!
"When my father first called me in, I was so scared that he wanted me to ‘befriend’ a new associate," Wylan explained as he still held tight onto Jesper. His hands were around his shoulders, their foreheads only parted by the cell bars. "I sometimes still wonder if that faith would have been less painful - at least for fewer people. But he had seen a new purpose for me, a new way to expand his empire of wealth." Jesper remained silent, his undivided attention locked onto Wylan as he recounted the memories. Wylan's words carried such weight that Jesper guessed it to be the first time he had ever shared them with anyone.
Matthias continued to describe what the note from Jesper had stated. At least the gunslinger had been reasonable enough to send one before going in on his own. "He learned about a delivery of a person to a specific location, the details matched very well with Wylan. It's where I believe Pekka Rollins is holding Wylan, or at least where he used to be, until…"
“Until Jesper fucking-hothead Fahey couldn’t keep his gun in the holster for our pretty-faced demo man…” Kaz was fuming, but he saw the small glimpse of bewilderment on Matthias’ face. Maybe the reference had been too uncharacteristic of him too? Kaz was surely losing it by now.
The big Fjerdan took a deep breath before delivering the rest of the unsettling news.
With a surge of determination, Jesper pushed himself up from the ground. His heart pounded in his chest as he embraced the chaos surrounding them. His gunslinger instincts kicked in, and he moved with a fluid grace that came from years of training.
In the darkness, Jesper's hands became a blur as he pointed and fired his revolvers with deadly precision. The gunshots echoed through the night as he aimed at the hidden assailants, seeking out their muzzle flashes and firing back. His marksmanship was nothing short of extraordinary, and he made each shot count.
Bullets found their marks, silencing their attackers one by one. The night air was filled with the sound of gunfire, and Jesper's movements were a dance of death, as he kept avoiding the bullets flying through the air while sending his own in the direction of the sender.
Wylan was on the floor, leaning down on his tightly bound fists, blood dripping once again from the cut on his lip and possibly several other places too.
“Stop, please stop.” He had cried out as he spit some of the blood out, trying to catch his breath but his possibly-broken rips made it difficult to breathe deeply.
“What was that, little Crow? Ready to spill some details?” Rollins asked from his position behind the brutes who were wrecking Wylan up.
”No..” Wylan replied weakly as he looked down at the stone floor. “Just stop, please. There is no point in this…”
“Oh, but there is a point. But maybe we are going in the wrong direction here…” his vengeful voice was not comforting Wylan one bit.
The brutes paused for a moment, Wylan shot them a glance from his position on the floor, their fists still clenched menacingly. Rollins circled Wylan, his footsteps echoing in the dimly lit room. He leaned down to whisper to Wylan once more, his voice dripping with malice.
"Maybe it's time to try a different approach. I've heard Dirtyhands has a particular weakness. Tell me, boy, do you know what it is?" Rollins looked at him with a grin on his face.
Wylan's heart pounded as he considered Rollins's words. He couldn't betray Kaz, no matter what. But the threat of violence hung heavy in the air, and he knew he had to choose his words carefully if that were even possible with these brutes.
"Jesper Fahey, pull yourself together!" Kaz's voice was commanding and clear of any emotions, a stark contrast to the madness of rage that had consumed Jesper. He reached out and grabbed Jesper's arm firmly with his gloved hand, trying to regain control of the situation.