Slowly pushing open the glass door, Brian led the group into the triangular building. It seemed to be their dining area—immediately, a strong smell of food hit them. Long tables and chairs lined both sides, and at the back, a makeshift serving window had been set up, filled with pots and cooking utensils.
Waving a hand to clear the air, Brian continued forward. He pushed open the double doors on the right—just as Mike had described. Inside was a long corridor with many doors along both sides. He randomly opened one—it contained several beds and scattered personal items. Clearly, this was where people lived.
Deeper down, at the end of the corridor, stood a heavy iron door. Judging by the new-looking hinges, it had been installed recently. Torches burned on either side, giving the place an eerie, medieval dungeon-like feel.
Behind the door, a spiral staircase descended into darkness. Brian took a torch from the wall, lit it, and stepped down first.
As they reached the bottom, the basement came into view—brightly lit by flames.
The wide underground chamber was divided by thick iron bars, forming a series of prison cells on both sides. In the center stood a large fire pit, casting flickering light across the entire space. In each cell, a figure crouched in the corner, staring at them with wide, terrified eyes.
Every person was filthy, dressed in dust-covered clothes, their bodies covered in scars—some fresh, some old.
At the far end, a man was bound to a wooden cross, his body lacerated, skin torn open in multiple places. Dried blood coated his limbs and torso—clearly, he'd been there for some time. Beside him, torture tools hung from hooks. The pale stone floor was stained with dark, unremovable bloodstains—silent evidence of how many lives had ended here.
—Caroline!
The moment they entered the basement, Coben could no longer contain himself. He pushed past the others, scanning each cell frantically, shouting his wife's name.
Andrea and the others clenched their fists, their eyes burning with fury.
—Well, well. These people really know how to make a prison— Brian muttered, running a hand along the welded iron bars. They actually built a damn jail.
—Ford!
—Damn it… what did they do to you?!
After checking several cells without finding his wife, Coben rushed to the man on the cross. He lifted the man's head—immediately recognizing him.
Hearing the cry, Andrea and the others snapped out of their rage and hurried forward.
Coben slapped the man's cheeks. His body was cold. He checked the pulse, then breath. Nothing.
Looking at Andrea with devastated eyes, he whispered:
—He's… dead.
—Hey. You'd better start searching for your other comrades. They might still be alive— Brian said from the stairwell, annoyed by their grief.
Seeing them scramble through the cells, Brian turned to Norman.
—Find the keys to these cells. They should be around here.
—Got it— Norman nodded, grabbing a torch from the fire pit and moving to the other side of the basement.
—Caroline!
—Theo!
—Matthew!
The basement echoed with their shouts, the reverberations pounding against Brian's eardrums.
He winced, rubbing his ear, and stepped farther away. At least the noise lessened.
—I… I'm here…
Just as Brian stopped, a weak voice came from a nearby cell. He turned. Inside, a frail figure lay on the ground, unrecognizable in the dim light. Had he not been so close, he might have missed it.
He glanced at the weak figure, then called to Andrea and the others:
—Hey, check if this is one of the people you're looking for.
Hearing him, they rushed over. Seeing the man, their faces lit up with shock and joy.
—Theo!
Norman returned with the keys. Seeing their expressions, he understood. He stepped forward and unlocked the chain.
—Theo, are you okay? —Coben shoved the door open, lifted Theo into his arms—. Where are the others? Where are they?!
—Y-you're… finally here— Theo whispered, his swollen eyes barely open, tears streaming—. L-look… next door…
They turned to the adjacent cell. Two motionless figures lay inside. The stench of blood was unmistakable.
Coben shivered. He handed Theo to Andrea and rushed to the neighboring cell. Norman had already unlocked it. He stepped aside, returning to Brian's side.
—Open all the cells. Release everyone. Bring them upstairs.
Watching the emotional reunion—grief, relief, tears—Brian lost interest.
—Only 87 people in this camp… and they were holding over 30 prisoners. Unbelievable.
He turned and walked back up the stairs. Upstairs, there were still more problems to deal with.
Stepping outside, a cool breeze brushed his face. He saw Elton approaching from a distance, dragging two men beaten and bloodied.
Elton threw them into the group of kneeling survivors.
—Captain, I caught four. Five tried to climb the wall—shot them.
As he reported, the two men scrambled back into the group. Whatever they said, the once-calm crowd suddenly erupted.
Several older men and women stood up. A middle-aged woman broke free, eyes wild, screaming at Brian:
—You monsters! You killed my son! You'll burn in hell! All of you!
With her lead, others began shouting, filling the air with curses and wails.
—Bang!
Brian frowned. These prisoners clearly didn't understand their place. He drew his pistol and fired a warning shot into the air.
—Shut your mouths— he said coldly, staring them down.
Silence fell instantly. Most, seeing his icy eyes, remembered their position. They knelt again, submitting.
But a few still stood, glaring at Brian with pure hatred.
—Elton. Mike.
—Yes, sir!
Brian looked at the defiant ones. He knew the men killed were likely their relatives.
His eyes narrowed, a flicker of killing intent in them.
—Take the troublemakers. "Drop" them outside.
—No problem.
Elton smirked coldly. Without hesitation, he raised his rifle at the standing figures.
—Come with me.
Before they could protest, he slammed the butt of his gun into the woman who'd been screaming the loudest. She fell, blood pouring from her forehead.
Without mercy, Elton grabbed her collar and dragged her away.
—Let's go.
Mike raised his weapon. His usual playful smile was gone—now, he was cold, lethal.
Seeing the barrels pointed at them, the others hurried after, too afraid to stay. They'd heard the young officer say they'd just be "dropped" outside. They wouldn't die. No big deal.
—You killed my son! I'll never forgive you! I curse you to hell! To hell!
The woman, being dragged, snapped back to consciousness. Her eyes burned with hatred. She screamed, thrashed, cursed as she was pulled away—her voice still audible even as she disappeared into the night.
—What fools.
Brian shook his head in contempt.
Once the seed of hatred is planted, even a powerless enemy can become a threat. And if they ever get the chance… better to crush them before they grow.