The sun hadn't yet risen when the next accident occurred. A wooden scaffold, precariously perched against the ever-growing wall, suddenly creaked, groaned, and collapsed in a cloud of dust and debris. The guard beneath it let out a scream as the planks rained down, missing him by mere inches. His face turned pale, his breath shaky, and he scrambled back, eyes wide with terror.
The slaves, all too accustomed to ignoring the pain and chaos around them, glanced at each other knowingly. Another "accident." Another reminder that Vek's ghost was still haunting the camp. Whispers of fear passed between them like a chill in the air, as they continued their labor, heads down, hands moving, but minds elsewhere.
Leon worked alongside them, blending into the monotony of labor as usual, but his mind was far from the day's work. The accidents were building tension exactly as he planned. The guards and overseers were growing restless, afraid. Soon, they'd snap, turning on one another. But Leon had one problem: Grig.
Grig had always been useful, for a time. The man was greedy, willing to trade anything to anyone for the right price. He was a necessary conduit to Jerik, and through him, Leon had gotten the medicine and supplies he needed to start building his network. But Grig had loose lips, and in a place like this, that was dangerous.
Leon knew it was only a matter of time before Grig said something to the wrong person, especially with Jerik sniffing around. The man was scared—too scared to keep quiet if it meant saving his own skin. And Leon couldn't afford for Grig to start talking.
As he hefted a stone into place, Leon's mind worked through the problem. Grig was a liability, but he was also an asset. Getting rid of him now would draw too much attention. But if Leon didn't silence him soon, everything he had built could unravel in an instant. He needed something to keep Grig in line, something that would ensure his silence without forcing Leon to act too soon.
When the bell rang, signaling the end of the workday, Leon wiped the sweat from his brow and set his tools down. His eyes followed Grig, who was slinking around the outskirts of the camp, his usual rat-like behavior as he traded scraps with a couple of desperate slaves. The man looked nervous, twitchy, as if he could feel the weight of the noose tightening around him.
Leon's lips thinned. He'd have to deal with this tonight.
Later, as darkness fell over the camp, Leon slipped away from the barracks, moving with the practiced ease of a man who had spent too much time blending into the shadows. He found Grig near the back of the camp, huddled under the cover of a crumbling wall, counting a handful of stale bread and dried meat he'd pilfered from one of his trades.
"Grig," Leon's voice cut through the darkness like a knife, making the man jump.
Grig whipped around, eyes wide with fear. "What do you want?" he hissed, glancing around to make sure no one else was watching. "I've been layin' low, just like you asked."
Leon took a slow step forward, his presence looming over Grig like a shadow. "You've been making deals. Trading with the wrong people. The guards are getting nervous."
Grig swallowed hard, his beady eyes darting from side to side. "Look, I ain't said nothin'. I'm just tryin' to get by, same as everyone else."
Leon's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "If you say one wrong word, Grig, to anyone, you'll be more than just getting by. You'll be dead."
Grig's face paled, and he backed up a step, shaking his head. "I—I wouldn't! I wouldn't say nothin'! Jerik came to me, askin' questions, sure, but I kept my mouth shut!"
Leon's eyes narrowed. "Jerik's suspicious. He thinks something's happening. And if you can't convince him otherwise, he'll start looking for answers. Do you want to know what happens if he finds out?"
Grig was trembling now, his hands shaking as he clutched the scraps he had been counting. "I didn't do nothin'! I ain't—"
Leon was on him in a flash, slamming Grig against the crumbling wall, his hand tightening around the man's throat. Grig's breath hitched as Leon leaned in, his voice low and deadly.
"You listen to me," Leon growled, his fingers pressing harder against Grig's windpipe. "You're going to keep doing what you're told, and you're going to keep your mouth shut. If you so much as breathe the wrong way near Jerik, I'll break your neck and bury you where no one will ever find you. Understand?"
Grig gasped for air, his face turning red as he clawed at Leon's hand. "I—I understand!" he choked out, his voice barely a whisper.
Leon held him there for a moment longer, letting the fear sink in before finally releasing him. Grig collapsed to the ground, coughing and sputtering, clutching at his throat.
Leon crouched down, leveling his gaze with Grig's. "But I'm not without mercy. You want to keep trading? Fine. I'll even make sure you get what you need to stay in business. But if you cross me, I'll make you regret it. And if you run your mouth, even once…"
He didn't need to finish the threat. The look in Leon's eyes said everything Grig needed to know.
Grig nodded weakly, still gasping for breath. "I'll—I'll keep quiet. I swear."
Leon stood up, his face impassive. "Good. Now get out of here."
Grig scrambled to his feet, clutching his scraps like a lifeline, and scurried away into the shadows. Leon watched him go, his mind already turning to the next steps. Grig was scared, but fear wasn't always enough. Leon would have to keep a close eye on him, make sure he didn't slip up.
For now, though, the problem was contained. And tomorrow, the guards would wake up to another "accident."
Leon allowed himself a small, cold smile as he disappeared back into the night. The plan was still in motion, and now, nothing could stop it.