Calvert was dragged back to the villa by Jack, his half-conscious body limp, his clothes torn and stained with dirt, sweat, and dried blood.
Every part of him ached, but what kept him from slipping into unconsciousness wasn't the physical pain—it was sheer, bone-deep fear. His entire body trembled with dread.
"What does this red-haired psycho want with me now?" he whimpered under his breath. Tears and snot mixed on his face as his swollen lips trembled. "Boohooo… well, at least he's better than that witch… maybe…"
His mumbling stopped abruptly when Jack yanked him up by the hair with one brutal pull and dropped him into a metal chair bolted to the floor.
"Stay." Jack's voice was low, dangerous.
Calvert gasped, trying to catch his breath. Before he could gather his senses, Jack signaled one of the guards standing by the door.
Within seconds, a guard entered carrying a steel bucket. Without hesitation, he dumped the entire content—ice-cold water—right over Calvert's head.
