Chapter 7
713 Words
Meanwhile, in a dimly lit warehouse in an unknown location,Mr. Evans sat in the middle of a circle formed by several strong men, their physiques chiseled like granite, their faces expressionless. In the center of the circle, a man knelt on the cold floor, his eyes swollen shut, blood running down his nose like a crimson stream. The air was thick with tension, and the man's voice trembled with fear as he pleaded for mercy.
"Sir, I wasn't involved, I swear," he said, his words tumbling out in a desperate rush. "I don't know how the information got out, please believe me." He tried to crawl towards Mr. Evans, but one of the huge men stomped on him, crushing his movement.
Mr. Evans's cold eyes shot daggers at the man, his anger apparent in the vein that bulged from the side of his neck. He stood up, his movements economical and precise, and kicked the man with ruthless precision. The man flew across the room, landing with a thud several meters away.
Mr. Evans snapped his fingers, and one of the men scurried to wipe off the stain of blood from his well-polished shoes. He nodded at the huge man by his left and walked out of the room, his voice dripping with malice.
"Pick him up and take him to Master's Manor for Snow to snack on," he said, his words sending a chill down the spine.
"Yes, Dagon," the other men answered in unison, their voices devoid of emotion.
The next morning, I woke up to the smell of freshly baked bread wafting through the corridors, enticing me to rise from my slumber. I got out of bed, my night dress rustling softly, and walked through the hallway, my hair tied up in a messy bun. The smell of food pulled me along, my stomach growling in anticipation.
As I walked, I failed to notice the imposing figure standing in the hallway, and I bumped into him, wincing in pain as my forehead connected with his hard chest. "Ow," I exclaimed, rubbing my forehead.
"Watch where you're walking," Mr. Evans's cold voice said, void of any emotion. I looked up to see his piercing blue eyes gazing at me, their intensity making my heart skip a beat.
"Come on, it's too early in the morning to be this moody," I mumbled under my breath. "A nice smile would be nice." Mr. Evans's figure stopped in its tracks, as if he had heard my whispered words. I froze, my heart racing with fear, wondering if I had overstepped the mark.
For a moment, we stood there, locked in a silent confrontation. Then, Mr. Evans continued walking, leaving me to breathe a sigh of relief. I watched him go, feeling a mix of emotions: fear, curiosity, and a hint of annoyance.
I made my way to the dining hall, where Agnes was busy preparing breakfast. The aroma of toast and coffee filled the air, and my stomach growled in anticipation.
"Good morning, Ally," Agnes said, smiling warmly. "You look so pretty this morning. How was your night's rest?"
"It was so good," I replied, smiling back at her. "I feel like I've slept for a hundred years."
Agnes handed me a plate of toast and a cup of coffee, and we sat down to eat together. As we chatted, I found myself asking her a question that had been on my mind.
"Aunt Agnes, has Mr. Evans always been this cold?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Agnes's face slowly turned pale, and she looked around the room nervously, as if she feared being overheard. "No, he wasn't always like this," she said, her voice low and mysterious.
I leaned in closer, my curiosity piqued. "What happened to him?" I asked, my voice barely audible.
Agnes hesitated, her eyes darting around the room. "It's a long story, Ally," she said finally. "One that I'm not sure I'm at liberty to share."
I nodded, understanding. Some secrets were too deep to be shared, and I respected Agnes's boundaries. But I couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to Mr. Evans's story than met the eye, and I was determined to uncover the truth.
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