The fishing depot stank of rotting fish and seawater. I tested the chains binding my wrists again, feeling them bite into my skin. Across from me, Michael Ashworth sat still as a statue, his dignified presence undiminished despite his captivity. Isabelle was beside him, her eyes darting between her grandfather and me.
"Liam," she whispered, "are you okay?"
I nodded, careful not to draw attention from our captors. Brandon Lee paced before us, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he barked orders at his men. Six Grandmasters stood guard—serious firepower for three prisoners.
"My uncle is going to regret trying to stop this," Brandon sneered. "When I'm done with you three, North Province Island will be known as the place where even Ashworths aren't untouchable."
Michael Ashworth hadn't spoken since our capture. His silence seemed to infuriate Brandon more than any resistance would have.
