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Chapter Forty One

There was a thick numbness in the air, Michael could feel his heart racing. He was unarmed, outnumbered and outmaneuvered. He couldn't do anything but glare up at Don in contempt, his knees resting on the ground.

Don smirked down at him. "Why the long face? I haven't even done anything yet - except kill several prisoners you helped break free."

Michael clenched his fists in silent fury, trying to contain the deep hatred he felt towards Don.

"Bring them over," Don ordered his men surrounding the captives, including Jocelyn and Irene.

They were dragged forward, forced to kneel next to Michael, and bound. In unison, they held their heads high - accepting their fate with dignity. None showed outward signs of being terrified, though shivers coursed down their spines.

"There were about twenty of you. Now look at yourselves, reduced to what? Eight? Nine?" Don smirked as he counted the escaped captives.

He paced around them and stopped behind the first prisoner, then shot him point-blank
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