CHAPTER 48

James's eyes were cold and unfeeling. “You’re lucky you’re still alive,” he said, his voice devoid of sympathy. “Consider this an act of mercy from Lord Cloud.

"If you lead us to the rest of your gang tomorrow, my master might decide to spare you. But for now, this is where you’ll stay until we’ve decided your fate.”

With a final, disdainful glance, James turned and walked out of the cell.

He slammed the door shut behind him with a loud and resounding clang, leaving the fake barman alone in the oppressive darkness.

The fake barman sat on the mattress, his back against the cold wall.

The room was freezing, and his breath created visible clouds in the frigid air.

His mind raced with a mixture of fear and desperation.

He had narrowly escaped death earlier, but now he faced a different kind of torment—one of isolation and life threatening cold.

He felt like the cell was starting to weigh on him, its oppressive atmosphere amplifying his sense of dread.

He tried to gather his thoughts,