BURIED IN THE BLOODLINE

Chapter 5

**Louis’s POV**

As Xavier dragged me toward the lower levels of the compound, I couldn’t stop the violent tremors wracking my body. Dried blood matted my hair, and a dull, agonizing ache pulsed behind my eyes.

“I told you not to be a brat,” Xavier snarled, shoving me hard onto the cold concrete. My knees cracked against the floor. “From now on, this is your life. Soft days are over, kid.”

His voice sounded muffled through the persistent ringing in my ears. I slumped against the damp wall, fighting for every breath.

He seized my arm, hauled me up, and hurled me into a tiny, windowless cell. The iron door slammed shut, and the heavy bolt slid into place with a sickening clank. I collapsed onto the filthy floor, shivering as the dark swallowed me whole.

“I’m sorry, Zayn...” I whispered into the quiet, before exhaustion finally dragged me under.

Cold water hit my face, shocking me awake. I gasped, coughing as the icy chill sank straight into my bones.

“He’s awake,” a guard muttered, looking down at me with disdain. “Boss wants him cleaned up and prepped for the floor.”

I tried to push myself up, but my arms trembled so violently I sank back down. “Where... where are you taking me?”

The guard scoffed. “No questions. You’re working today.”

Two pairs of rough hands hauled me to my feet, dragging me into a tiled washroom. They blasted me with freezing water, scrubbed the dirt and blood off my skin with coarse soap, and threw a set of thin, ragged clothes at my chest.

“Get dressed. Move.”

They forced a stale piece of bread into my hand, shoving me forward before I could even chew. Then came the blindfold. I thrashed, trying to pull away as the dark cloth tightened over my eyes.

“Settle down,” a guard barked, striking me across the shoulder. “You’re heading to the ring.”

They marched me through a maze of endless corridors until we stepped into a loud, cavernous space. The air was heavy with heat, sweat, and the metallic tang of rust. Screams, heavy impacts, and the sharp crack of iron on stone echoed off the walls.

When they ripped the blindfold off, I blinked against the harsh overhead lights.

We were in a massive, enclosed arena surrounded by iron bars. Dozens of men stood around the perimeter, shouting and laying bets, while several guards watched from raised platforms. The Boss sat in an elevated booth above the floor, watching through dark glass with a slow, ruthless smile.

“This one thinks he’s a fighter,” the Boss’s voice boomed over a loudspeaker, dripping with cold amusement. “Let’s see how long he lasts on the floor.”

Before I could react, two guards shoved me into the center of the ring and locked the iron gate behind me. Standing across from me was a towering, heavily scarred man holding a heavy wooden stave.

Panic seized my chest. “Wait—please, I don’t belong here!”

“Fight or get broken, cat!” someone roared from the crowd.

The scarred man didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, sweeping the stave toward my ribs. I threw myself to the side, crashing onto the hard dirt as the wood whistled over my head. The crowd erupted into wild jeers and laughter.

I scrambled to my feet, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but there was nowhere to go. Over the next hour, they pitted me against guard after guard. I was hit, thrown, and forced to keep standing no matter how much my body screamed for mercy.

Whenever I stayed down too long, a guard would strike the iron bars with a rod, forcing me back onto my feet. By the time it was over, my mouth tasted like metal, my body was covered in deep bruises, and I could barely draw a full breath.

They dragged my limp frame back to the cell and threw me onto the floor like trash. I rolled onto my side, staring at the stone wall, numb to the bone.

*I just want it to stop,* I thought, a single tear slipping down my cheek into the dirt. *I just want to close my eyes and never wake up.*

**Boss’s POV**

Watching them wear him down was far more satisfying than a quick death.

I had promised myself I would destroy that boy—make him pay for who he was and what his family represented. Seeing him reduced to a bruised, gasping heap on the floor of the ring, desperate for air while the crowd laughed at his helplessness, filled my chest with quiet victory.

I looked down at the guard standing beside my chair.

“Don’t let him break completely yet,” I commanded softly. “This is only day one. I want to see how much spirit he has left before there’s nothing inside him. I want him awake when I finally tell him why he’s here.”

The guard nodded and left the room.

I turned to my desk, picking up a burner phone. On the screen, the old video was queued up—Louis’s panicked face, the quick shove, and his friend tumbling down the stairs. I played it twice, watching the terror in Louis's eyes with a bitter smile.

Then, with a few clicks, I uploaded the video to every major news network and police database in the city, ensuring his family and the authorities would see every second of it. Once the upload confirmed, I tossed the phone onto the floor and crushed it beneath my boot.

Let Bryan search all he wanted. Let Zayn stare at the footage in horror.

The game was just getting started.