Leon stood in the midday sun, sweat dripping down his brow as he bent to pick up another rusted piece of metal from the refuse pile. His hands were raw from days of labor, and his body ached, but the pain was a constant companion now—one he had learned to ignore.
This wasn't just about surviving anymore. This was about building something, bit by bit, from the scraps that no one else cared about.
As he tossed the piece into the makeshift sack he carried, Leon's mind was already churning. He needed more supplies. The medicine he'd gotten from Grig was almost gone, and the few vials he had left wouldn't last long. Infection was rampant in the camp, and with winter approaching, more people would start falling ill. Leon couldn't afford to wait for help that wasn't coming.
But Grig... that rat was becoming a problem. Leon knew he couldn't keep leaning on him forever. Grig was a weak link—a coward who would crack under pressure the moment things got tough. If the guards started asking questions, Grig would sell him out in a heartbeat.
Leon straightened, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he scanned the camp. The overseers were making their rounds, lazily watching the slaves from a distance, their whips coiled at their sides like venomous snakes waiting to strike. They were predictable—too predictable. Leon had already started mapping their movements, noting when they changed shifts, when they took their breaks. It was a slow process, but it was working.
He hefted the sack over his shoulder, the weight of the scrap metal pressing into his sore muscles as he made his way toward the barracks. Grig would be waiting, no doubt skulking in the shadows like the rat he was.
As Leon approached the back of the barracks, he spotted Grig leaning against the wall, his thin, wiry frame half-hidden in the gloom. His eyes darted around nervously, his hands twitching at his sides. The sight of him made Leon's skin crawl, but he forced himself to remain calm. He needed the medicine, and for now, Grig was the only one who could provide it.
"Got what you asked for," Leon said, dropping the sack at Grig's feet with a dull thud.
Grig glanced at the sack, his beady eyes narrowing as he kicked it lightly with his boot. "You sure this is enough?"
Leon crossed his arms, his gaze hard. "It's what you asked for."
Grig's lip curled into a sneer, but Leon could see the flicker of fear in his eyes. The last time they'd spoken, Leon had made it clear who was in charge. Grig might have been a scavenger, but he wasn't stupid. He knew not to push too hard, at least not without something to back it up.
Still, the man was a coward, and cowards had a way of trying to claw their way to the top, no matter who they had to betray in the process.
Grig knelt down, opening the sack and rummaging through the scrap. "It'll do," he muttered, standing back up and brushing his hands on his pants. His eyes flicked up to Leon, a sly grin forming on his lips. "But you know, you're asking for a lot these days. More medicine... that's a high price. And the guards? They're getting nosy. Too nosy. You keep pushing like this, and someone's going to notice."
Leon's expression didn't change, though his mind was already racing. Grig was testing him, trying to see how far he could push before Leon snapped.
"They notice anything, it won't be me they come after," Leon said, his voice low and dangerous. "You're the one they'll interrogate. You think they'll believe a word you say when you're shaking in your boots?"
Grig's grin faltered for a second, the fear flashing in his eyes again, but he quickly recovered, crossing his arms as if to shield himself. "You don't scare me, Leon. You might be a tough guy, but this place... it breaks everyone. And when it does, you'll be just like the rest of them—crawling in the dirt, begging for scraps."
Leon stepped closer, his eyes boring into Grig's, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "If this place is going to break anyone, it'll be you first. You keep making threats, keep thinking you've got leverage. But the second you start talking to the wrong people, you're done."
Grig's face paled, his bravado crumbling under the weight of Leon's words. He swallowed hard, glancing nervously over his shoulder as if expecting the guards to materialize out of the shadows.
"Fine," Grig spat, his voice shaking slightly. "But I want double next time. The guards are breathing down my neck, and I'm taking the risk here. If they catch wind of what we're doing, I'll be the one paying for it, not you."
Leon clenched his fists, resisting the urge to lash out. He needed the medicine, but Grig was pushing him closer and closer to the edge. The longer he relied on this rat, the more likely it was that everything would come crashing down around them.
"Double?" Leon echoed, his voice cold. "You'll get what you get, Grig. Don't push your luck."
Grig sneered again, but this time it was weaker, more desperate. "You think you can get this shit without me? You think anyone else in this place would deal with you?"
Leon didn't answer, his mind already working on the next step. Grig was right about one thing—he needed more medicine, and Grig wasn't the only one in the camp with access to it. The guards had their own supply, and if Leon could find a way to tap into that, he wouldn't need Grig anymore.
And once he didn't need Grig, the man's usefulness would come to an abrupt and painful end.
Leon forced a smile, one that didn't reach his eyes. "You'll get what you asked for. But remember, Grig... you're just a piece on the board. Don't make the mistake of thinking you're the one playing the game."
Grig opened his mouth to retort, but Leon had already turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, seething in the dark. As Leon made his way back to the worksite, he felt the tension coil in his chest, the familiar cold logic of survival settling over him like a shroud.
Grig was dangerous, not because he was powerful, but because he was weak. And weak men were always the first to break when things went south.
Leon needed to move faster. The cracks in the foundation were starting to show, and if he didn't find another source soon, Grig's loose lips would bring it all down.
The overseers wouldn't tolerate rebellion, not even a whisper of it. And when they came, they wouldn't ask questions. They'd just break bones and spill blood until someone gave them answers.
Leon couldn't let it get that far. Not if he wanted to survive long enough to see this plan through.
As he picked up another piece of scrap, his mind raced with possibilities, tactics, and ways to get around Grig's growing paranoia. He needed more allies, more options. And soon.
Because in this place, trust was as fragile as the chains around their necks.
And the moment those chains tightened, someone would hang.