Volume 2: The Rules of Survival in the Underground World
Summary: Jack learns through his intelligence network that Richard has been engaging in secret activities. He begins to suspect that Richard is plotting something far more dangerous.
Chapter 9: Richard's Movements
Jack leaned back against the cold metal wall of a shipping container, letting the icy night wind bite through his thin coat. He tightened his collar, trying to block out the bone-deep chill that felt like it came straight from hell itself. Isabella's warning had struck him like a shard of ice—piercing deep into a heart already scarred by betrayal and loss. Richard—the demon who clung like a parasite—had not given up on destroying him completely.
"Damn it!" Jack muttered under his breath, raising his whiskey bottle for another burning swig. The alcohol scorched its way down his throat, numbing the cold but doing little to warm the fear clawing at his insides. He needed to act fast. If he didn't uncover Richard's plans soon, he'd be left defenseless once again—just as he had been before.
"Rat!" Jack whispered sharply into the darkness.
From the shadows emerged a wiry figure—silent as a ghost. It was Rat, the scavenger who thrived on sifting through trash and whispers alike. His small eyes gleamed with sharp intelligence, darting around like they could see everything hidden in the dark. He wiped his nose with a ragged sleeve and offered a sly grin.
"Boss, you called? Got something for me?" Rat's voice rasped like sand scraping over stone.
Jack leaned in, urgency tightening his jaw. "What do you know about Richard? Anything? I need every move he's made."
Rat rubbed his frostbitten hands together, grinning nervously. "Boss, that guy's slippery as an eel. Took everything I had just to dig up a few crumbs."
Jack's pulse quickened. "Tell me what you found."
"I heard he's hooking up with someone called The Butcher," Rat said, lowering his voice. "Real nasty piece of work. Handles the dirtiest jobs in the black market—smuggling, hits, you name it. They've been seen hanging around the docks lately. Still digging into what they're planning."
"The Butcher?" Jack frowned. A brutal enforcer with a reputation for cruelty, The Butcher was known across the underground for taking any job—for the right price. Murder, kidnapping, intimidation—it was all part of his trade.
"Keep digging," Jack ordered, his voice colder than the wind. "I want to know exactly what Richard and The Butcher are planning. Leave no stone unturned."
"Understood, boss. I'm on it," Rat nodded, bowing slightly before vanishing into the night like a shadow slipping between cracks.
Jack paced, unease gnawing at his gut. If Richard had teamed up with The Butcher, trouble was brewing. Big trouble. He had to strike first or risk being caught in the crossfire.
Isabella's safety weighed heavily on his mind as well. Her haunted expression, her trembling voice—they told him she was still trapped in this world, unable to break free.
"Lone-Eye!" Jack called again.
A towering figure stepped forward—a man missing one eye, leaving behind a hollow socket that seemed to swallow the dim light. Lone-Eye earned his keep begging near subway entrances, but he moved fast and knew how to listen. He was one of Jack's most reliable ears in the underworld.
"What can I do for you, boss?" Lone-Eye asked, his voice low and rough like a broken bellows.
"I need you to watch Isabella," Jack instructed. "Track where she goes, who she talks to. Every detail matters."
Lone-Eye gave a short nod. "Understood. I'll report back when I have something." Then he turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Jack exhaled slowly. He knew Isabella's fate might already be sealed, but he refused to give up on her. Not yet.
Over the next few days, Jack focused on expanding the casino. He cleared out more corners of the abandoned subway station, adding new tables and drawing even more desperate gamblers looking for a miracle. At the same time, he began watching Lame Billy more closely.
Billy had become increasingly distracted. He spent long hours locked away, whispering into a burner phone with a look of nervous paranoia. His lone eye flickered constantly, hiding something big.
Jack suspected Billy was keeping secrets. He sent Rat and Lone-Eye to investigate, hoping to uncover what the old gangster was hiding.
In the following days, more pieces trickled in.
Rat discovered that Richard and The Butcher had been frequenting an abandoned warehouse near the docks, always accompanied by heavily armed men. He believed they were preparing for a major illegal operation—possibly involving drugs or weapons smuggling.
Lone-Eye reported that Isabella had recently been seen spending time with a well-dressed man driving a sleek black luxury car. The two met often, and each time, they lingered inside the vehicle for extended periods.
Putting it all together, Jack felt the weight of a growing conspiracy pressing down on him. Richard's deal with The Butcher. Isabella's mysterious contact. Billy's suspicious behavior. It all wove together into a web tightening around him.
He realized he was standing at the edge of a storm. One wrong step and he would be consumed.
On a drizzly evening, Jack returned to the casino beneath the subway. Rainwater dripped from the cracked ceiling, pooling in oily puddles on the floor. The air reeked of damp mildew and cheap tobacco, mixed with sweat and desperation. Yet none of it dulled the hunger in the gamblers' eyes. They crowded around the table, chasing fortune like moths to flame.
Lame Billy sat nearby, shaking a bone dice cup with exaggerated flair. His wrinkled face twisted into a crooked smile as he lured players deeper into debt.
Jack approached and placed a firm hand on Billy's shoulder. "We need to talk. Alone."
Billy turned, narrowing his eye. "Can't you see I'm working?"
"It's about Richard," Jack said quietly, his tone edged with steel. "And I think you know more than you're letting on."
Billy stiffened. He glanced around, then led Jack into a darker corner of the room.
"You know about Richard?" Billy whispered. "Who told you?"
"I know he's working with The Butcher," Jack replied, his voice cutting like a blade. "And that he's using your casino as cover for some kind of illegal deal. You really thought you could play both sides without getting burned?"
Billy's face paled. Sweat glistened on his forehead. He knew Jack wasn't bluffing—he had the proof.
"I… I didn't have a choice," Billy stammered. "Richard promised me money. I just wanted to make more—"
"You idiot," Jack snapped. "You don't know what kind of monster you're dealing with. Richard doesn't keep promises. He uses people—and throws them away when they're done."
Billy trembled, panic rising in his chest. "Then… what do I do? I don't want to die!"
Jack's voice dropped to a calm, chilling level. "You listen to me. I'll help you get out of this—but only if you follow my orders exactly. No lies. No hesitation. Or I'll make sure you wish death was the worst thing that happened to you."
Billy nodded frantically. "Yes! Yes, I'll do whatever you say. Just save me."
Jack took a slow breath. A plan was forming in his mind. He would use Billy to dismantle Richard's operation from within. This was the beginning—not just of his revenge, but of his return.
With his intelligence network feeding him truth from the shadows, Jack was ready to fight back. He would expose the lies, destroy his enemies, and reclaim everything that had been stolen from him.
This was the moment everything changed.
And he would not fail.