Jamie gasped and immediately shouted for his men to stop. He stepped forward, and what he saw made his scalp tingle—curled up inside the trunk was a man so battered and bloodied that his face was completely unrecognizable.
The man was barely clinging to consciousness, struggling to breathe.
Jamie asked, "Sir, who are you? And why are you in Mr. Lloyd's car?"
He kept his weapon pointed at the man, his tone sharp. "Where's the wild boar? Mr. Lloyd said he brought one back—did you let it escape?"
Michael was already half-dead, barely holding on to his sanity. During the ride, he had vomited every last drop of fluid in his stomach, nearly passing out from exhaustion.
When the trunk finally opened, he had been ecstatic, thinking he was finally free. Yet, before he could even take a breath, he was met with a brutal, merciless beating—one so bad that he nearly pissed himself.
His hatred for Andrew burned so deep it could have swallowed him whole. He clutched his head and let out
