After miles of intense riding away from the city and into the forest of Brasswick, they stopped at a secluded spot and set up tents using the nearby vegetation. The night wind blew, and the sounds of animals and the crackling campfire filled the air. The two sat in silence, staring at the flames as Jax finally spoke:
"So… back at the tavern, I didn't mean to cause all that trouble."
Beth replied, "It's fine. It doesn't matter now. At least we're safe…"
Jax looked somewhat guilty and said, "No, I really am sorry. I was drunk and ended up messing up your plan. But come on—there's no way I could've recognized you under that hood and cloak, right?" He finished the sentence a little awkwardly.
Beth gave him a serious look but then let out a small smile. "It wouldn't have worked anyway. The boss was too well-guarded at the time. Trying something then would've been suicide. But… I was so blinded by hate that I wouldn't have cared if I died, as long as I could've taken that bastard down with me."
Jax responded with a serious tone, "He's a man with plenty of enemies. You really planned to stab him in the back without him noticing? Bold… and a little foolish, if you ask me."
Beth glared at him angrily and snapped, "I would've had a better chance if you hadn't started trouble with one of his goons. Seriously, who makes a bet over who can drink more? By the third glass, you two were already brawling!"
Jax blushed, crossing his arms. "I refuse to answer that question, alright?" Then, trying to change the subject, he added, "Either way, we need to rest. Tomorrow's going to be a long day." He headed to his tent, but Beth noticed something strange about his cannon-arm and asked,
"What happened to your arm? Does it have something to do with the Smokeveil boss?"
Without answering, Jax stepped inside his tent and said only, "Good night, Miss Beth."
Frustrated, Beth muttered, "For hell's sake then…" and stormed into her own tent, just as angry, ready to sleep. Silence once again settled over the calm forest.
While they rested in their tents, back in the city of Brasswick, the so-called "boss" they had spoken about was lounging in his mansion's chair, staring into the fire as he sipped his rum. He was waiting for news, wondering why the two heads he had ordered hadn't arrived yet.
Riker and Buck stood nervously outside the office in the mansion's hallway before stepping in. "Boss…" Riker said, swallowing hard.
The boss, still facing the fire, his face half-covered in the room's shadows, spoke calmly:
"Where's what I asked for, Riker? Why are you taking so long? This isn't the first time I've asked you for something like this, is it?"
Terrified, Riker stammered, "Well, boss, it's just that… this time… you see…"
The boss cut him off sharply:
"Riker. Just say it. What happened?"
"They escaped, boss!" Riker blurted out all at once. "B-but I promise we'll—"
Before he could finish, the boss let out a low chuckle as he rose to his feet. The room fell into absolute silence as the shadow of the boss slowly moved toward Riker. The sound of footsteps echoed, and Buck instinctively backed away. When the boss finally stood before him, he spoke softly:
"Do you have any idea how much those two owed me? Do you know how patient I've been with Jax? That bastard stiffed me when he decided to borrow money from one of our banks. And that bitch—she owes me back rent from her old home."
He grabbed Riker by the cheeks, squeezing them tightly. "But I don't have to worry, do I? Because if you incompetent fools can't handle it… I know someone who can."
"Who, boss?" Riker asked, trembling.
"That doesn't concern you," the boss replied coldly. Then, with just his thumb and forefinger still gripping Riker's cheeks, he effortlessly dislocated Riker's jaw.
Riker let out a blood-curdling scream, echoing so loud that even a villager passing by the mansion could hear it.
"Buck, get him out of here, please," the boss said calmly.
Terrified, Buck rushed over and helped the agonized Riker, who was still crying in pain, draping his arm over his shoulder. They stumbled out of the room, leaving the boss to return to his chair, take another sip of rum, and prepare to make contact with someone very important.