Carson had never seen anything like this before. He was so terrified he couldn't even get a word out, just stood there shaking, frozen to the spot. The guys running the place didn't care how scared he was. They just went straight for him, no questions asked.

Their weapons were basic-kitchen knives, cleavers, a few hunting blades. Nothing fancy, but all sharp enough to do damage.

One of the men, sporting a wild beard, took a big gulp of liquor, then spat it right onto the blade of his cleaver, like he was giving it some kind of blessing. He jerked his chin at the others and grinned. "You lot, get him over here. Let's get this done, get paid, and go home to our wives. No point wasting time on this brat."

They didn't even hesitate. A few of them grabbed Carson, yanking him off the floor like he was nothing but a slab of meat. They pinned his arm and slammed his hand down on the cold, wooden cutting board.

The chill of the board snapped Carson back to reality. He tried to jerk his hand away, eyes wide as the blade caught the light, reflecting right in his face. Pure panic took over. He dropped to his knees, begging, tears streaming down his face.

"No, please! Don't-don't cut my finger off! I'm sorry, I swear, I'll never come back here again. Please, I'll do anything. I'll give you money—a million dollars, okay? Just let me go, please!"

a sobbing mess, begging for his life, not caring about pride or dignity. Staying

couldn't believe stuff like this actually happened in the States.

"Are you trying to be funny? You think your finger's only worth a million

What?

million wasn't enough? Were these guys even serious? He could blow through that much at Golden Glow and not blink-these

talking to him? He's just some Kidd family punk. Even if he was from the Woods of Stonnell families, he'd still have to leave a finger

the floor, totally spent, like a fish out of water. There was no way the

fault. She'd put him in

down hard and fast. One finger was gone, just like that.

"AAAHHH!"

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