Page 57 of Daggermouth

His fist crashed into Davish’s kidney, a precise blow that made him shriek. The sound bounced off the walls, distorted and inhuman. One of the guards glanced over at them but didn’t intervene. This was business, and business required clear messaging.

“Please,” Davish gasped between sobs. “I’ll pay. Whatever you want. Double. Triple the usual fee.”

“Payment?” Callum scoffed. “You think this is about credits?” Another punch, this one to the ribs. Something cracked. “Marina can’t work for at least three weeks. Three weeks of lost income because you wanted five minutes of feeling powerful.”

Callum slowly uncoiled from the floor.

“This isn’t about money. This is about respect.” He gripped Davish’s chin, forcing him to meet his eyes through the slits in his mask.

“You know the rules,” Callum continued, voice dropping to a near whisper. “Everyone who steps through my doors knows them. Hurt what’s mine, I hurt you back.”

He circled behind the chair again, letting his footsteps echo. Fear worked better when you couldn’t see where the next blow would come from.

“You came into my house, Davish.My house.” Callum spat each word. “So tell me why I shouldn’t cut your throat and drop your body in the Boundary canals?”

Davish’s pupils dilated with terror. “I have information,” he blurted. “Valuable information. About the Heart. About transactions—illegal ones. You collect secrets. I have secrets I could give you.”

Interest flickered through Callum, though he kept his posture relaxed, unaffected. “I’m listening.”

Callum did indeed collect secrets. The men and women that worked in his clubs throughout the Heart shared the things they learned about their clients with him. He kept these secrets filed away until the moment came where they could be leveraged, used for his own purposes.

“Serel Industries,” Davish gasped. “They’re moving supplies through false manifests. Medical equipment and food that never reaches the Cardinal or Boundary clinics. Redirected to private facilities in the Heart.”

Callum’s mind processed this rapidly. This could be useful. Potentially worth more than the satisfaction of breaking another one of Davish’s ribs.

“Details,” Callum demanded. “Names. Facilities. Routes.”

“I oversee the Cardinal distribution network,” Davish said, words tumbling out now that he’d found potential salvation. “Two shipments a week disappear from the manifest after they clear the agricultural customs. The verification codes are changed in the system. They go to a warehouse in Heart East, burn it, get rid of the evidence. The President is planning something with other high-level members of leadership. They’ve been slowly cutting of all remaining aid and food shipments to the outer rings.”

Callum’s arms folded across his chest, his fingers tapping against his bicep. What was Maximus Serel up to now? He’d need to dig into this, use whatever contacts he had to collect more information.

He fought to keep the disgust from his expression. Medical supplies Callum knew they’d been hoarding, but food? They were now fullycutting off access to the already small amount of food that made it to the Boundary.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. One of his guards opened it slightly, exchanging quiet words with someone outside.

“Boss,” the guard said, turning back. “You have a visitor waiting in your office. Says it’s important.”

Callum nodded, stepping back from the chair. Davish sagged in his bonds, blood dripping steadily onto the concrete. The puddle had grown considerably since they’d started.

He crossed to the steel sink in the corner, pulling off the brass knuckles and letting them clatter against the metal basin as he turned on the water. The blood melted down the drain, disappearing into the city’s sewers where it would join a thousand other secrets.

He washed methodically—under the nails, between the fingers, up to the wrists. When his hands were clean, he dried them on a gray towel that’d seen too many beatings like this, then pulled his rings from a small dish by the sink.

Each one slid back into place with the comfort of routine—the onyx band on his left thumb, the two gold ones on his right pointer and ring finger, the copper rose one went on his left pinky, matching the mark his workers wore.

“It seems we’ll have to cut this short,” he said, turning back to Davish. “You’ve given me something useful. That buys your life, but actions still have consequences.”

The relief on Davish’s face was quickly drowned out with fresh fear.

“Take one of his fingers,” Callum ordered his guards as he flexed his bruised knuckles. “The one that would’ve worn his marriage band, I think. Poetic, considering where he put his hands.”

“No, please—” Davish’s protest dissolved into sobbing.

“Wait untildark,” Callum continued, adjusting his cuffs. “Then drop him at the clinic doors. The ones in Heart South. Let them see what happens when the elites abuse their power in my territory.”

“No!” Davish screamed, thrashing against his restraints. “Please! I have a family!”

Callum turned his face toward him, something cold settling behind his mask. “So does Marina.”