“There are more people than I expected.”
Counting myself, there were thirty-nine people standing before me.
I’d only expected about twenty-eight. That was the number of bodyguards I’d managed to recruit so far.
Jose and the beginner miners from Tunnel 99-1, the twelve under Howard Hamilton, and a few others I’d met through Jonan—all of them were now my people.
And honestly? It hadn’t been that hard.
I was already the guy everyone called a hero—the top earner in daily profits, the man who turned dirt into gold.
So naturally, people wanted to get close.
After a few drinks, laughter, and some shared hardships, the phrase “our family” started floating around.
Of course, it was too early to call them “bodyguards.” They’d just promised—usually while drunk—to follow me anywhere.
But once
