Chapter 3

The supposed tragedy just now propelled Damien's authority to its peak as everyone began to view him as their savior.

Emboldened, he grew increasingly arrogant and started imposing even harsher rules. For instance, he mandated that everyone surrender their personal belongings to him—ostensibly to prevent anyone from hiding dangerous items.

Those who resisted were locked inside a windowless walk-in freezer.

Two people had already been confined there for a full day and night for the "offense" of hiding their lighters, and by the time they were let out, they'd nearly frozen to death.

People were furious, yet no one dared to speak up.

Meanwhile, Helena had become Damien's most devoted follower. She carried a notebook with her, going from person to person, recording their details and the items they handed over.

When she reached me, she asked in a perfunctory, bureaucratic tone, "Carl Sawyer. Where are your personal belongings?"

I found the situation almost amusing as I took in the unfamiliar expression on her face.

"What else could I possibly have other than the clothes I'm wearing now?"

Helena frowned. "You clearly have something in your pocket."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a compact satellite phone. It was something I'd prepared well in advance.

Damien's eyes lit up.

"A satellite phone? Excellent! Hand it over at once!"

He reached out to snatch it, but I pulled back, evading his grasp.

"It doesn't have a signal right now."

"Enough talk!" Damien snapped, refusing to believe me. "Give it here!"

I looked at him and said slowly, "Even if I gave it to you, who would you contact? Or did you want to see if I had Zeus on speed dial to come save you?"

A ripple of suppressed laughter spread through the crowd.

Damien's face flushed a mottled purple. He seethed, "You're asking for it!"

He then lunged toward me, his fists raised. I simply sidestepped and tripped him.

Unable to stop his momentum, Damien slammed headfirst into a shelving unit, and a large, angry red welt instantly appeared on his forehead.

The men he'd brought along as his enforcers immediately swarmed forward. The atmosphere turned heated and tense, and a violent confrontation seemed imminent.

"Stop it, all of you!" Helena screamed, rushing between us and throwing her arms out to block me. "Carl, can't you just stop this? If you'd just hand the phone over to Dam, we could all get along perfectly fine!"

She looked at me, her eyes full of reproach, as if I were the unreasonable one here.

I stared back at her and asked, enunciating every word, "If Damien hadn't been there, would you still have spiked my milk?"

Helena's body went rigid. Her face turned deathly pale in an instant.

Damien scrambled up from the floor, clutching his forehead.

"Stop wasting your breath on him, Lena! He's just trying to break us all up!"

Pointing at me, he then shouted to the others, "This guy has been against us from the very beginning! He wants us all dead! Seize him! Lock him up in cold storage!"

The crowd began to stir, their gazes filled with hostility and suspicion. They were traumatized by the tragedy at Trader Poe's and had lost all capacity for rational judgment. They now saw any challenge to Damien's authority as a direct threat to their own lives.

And so, I became the target of everyone's rage.

Helena still hesitated. I gently pushed her aside.

"Don't bother. I'll go myself."

I began walking toward the cold storage room.

As I walked past Damien, I stopped and said, "Oh, and one more thing… That distress broadcast earlier? That was me all along."