Joel moved through the darkness beneath the city, supported by two loyal surviving guards. His breathing was heavy and his movements slower than before.
His defeat had taken a toll on him but his spirit burned with unhinged rage.
During the final retreat, a shot had struck his side, leaving him weakened, bleeding and desperate. But he was determined to get his revenge and claim back his throne one way or the other
"Keep moving," he ordered through gritted teeth. "We would take shelter with the Azis cartel up ahead."
His guards nodded weakly, as they pushed through abandoned streets and hidden passages, searching for any route that would take them fastest to their destination.
However, neither Joel nor his men realize they were no longer running toward freedom. Rather, they were running into a deadly trap.
