Jaspar shifted his weight against the tree trunk, casting a steady gaze toward the camp nestled below. It wasn’t the first time he’d watched these people, and something told him it wouldn’t be the last. Their stubbornness intrigued him; he’d approached them twice, made his offer clear, and been twice rebuffed. Any other group would have caved by now, eager to strike a deal in the face of a looming threat like Reeves. But this one—this stubborn, insistent group—held firm. And Jaspar didn’t know whether to respect it or laugh at their naivety.
Beside him, Iker leaned casually against a branch, his optics flickering. “They’re still turning it down, huh? Maybe they believe they can actually pull this off.”
“Or they’re a little too proud to realize they can’t.” Jaspar didn’t bother to mask his irritation. Pride was as dangerous as greed in the unforgiving wilderness they called home. It made people foolish, unwilling to take the help that might just save their lives.
Down below, the group had gathered around a modest fire, murmuring quietly among themselves. Jaspar’s sharp gaze tracked Caius, the group’s apparent leader. The man’s body language spoke volumes: the unrelenting clench of his fists, the way he glanced over his shoulder as if daring the shadows themselves to challenge his resolve. Around him, his team listened intently, nodding as he laid out their plan. Jaspar could read it in their faces, a strange mix of confidence and unease. They were tense, yes, but driven by something more potent than fear. Determination, perhaps.
The first time he and Iker had encountered them, Jaspar had approached with caution, keeping his distance. He’d offered his resources—a rare commodity in this hostile territory—and even implied a promise of guidance through the treacherous landscape that Reeves claimed as his domain. They’d turned him down without a second thought, eyes hard and mistrustful. The shadows had been their refuge, but also the very thing they were wary of. Jaspar was a man of the shadows, and they wanted nothing to do with him.
The second time, he’d taken a bolder approach. They’d met on a narrow trail, where Jaspar and Iker had cut them off, offering the full extent of their services in return for a cut of whatever loot the group managed to claim from Reeves’s territory. It was a straightforward deal, one that anyone in their position would have leapt at. But Caius had been even more dismissive this time, his refusal laced with the conviction of a man unshakable in his purpose. He’d been polite, even gracious, but his eyes spoke of unbreakable resolve. He’d thanked them for the offer and moved on, his team falling into formation behind him without hesitation.
Iker broke the silence, his voice low. “They’re gonna regret turning us down, aren’t they?”
Jaspar allowed a thin smile to slip onto his face. “Oh, they’ll regret it. Reeves is no small-time threat. The ones who’ve tried to take him down alone, with no alliances or backup—they don’t last. They get picked off one by one or swallowed whole.”
He scanned the camp once more, noting each face around the fire. There was Rhea, quiet and watchful, her eyes ever on the horizon as if anticipating trouble before it arrived. Jax, a bit of a brute, but with a loyalty to Caius that was unmistakable. And a few others who seemed to hang on Caius’s every word, treating him as if he was the only hope they had. They trusted him, perhaps too much, to guide them through the dangers they’d soon face.
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“They’re not backing down, though,” Iker observed, his voice tinged with a strange kind of admiration. “They’re dead set on doing this alone. It’s almost... impressive, isn’t it?”
“Impressive or reckless,” Jaspar muttered. He respected determination, but he knew all too well how quickly it could turn into foolhardiness. “They think they’re better off without us. They’d rather risk facing Reeves without allies than accept our help.”
Iker chuckled, the sound low and sharp. “Pride goes before the fall, as they say.”
Jaspar didn’t reply. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on Caius. In this unforgiving land, he’d learned that pride was often a luxury. Out here, survival demanded compromise, and alliances were often the only thing standing between life and death. These people clung to their independence as if it would shield them, yet Jaspar knew better. He’d seen proud men reduced to desperate creatures, willing to bargain anything just to live another day. And when that day came for Caius and his team, he’d be ready.
Iker cleared his throat, breaking Jaspar’s line of thought. “So, what’s the plan? Do we make the offer again, or let them stew in their pride?”
“No.” Jaspar’s answer was immediate, his tone sharp. “Let them carry on with this illusion. They’ll come around soon enough. When they’re staring down Reeves’s men, feeling the weight of the odds stacked against them, they’ll realize what they’ve turned down.” He folded his arms, sinking deeper into the shadow that cloaked him. “Then, when they’re desperate enough, we’ll be there to make a new offer—one they can’t refuse.”
He cast another look at Caius’s camp, his mind already running through the possibilities. It would only take one slip-up, one sign of weakness from Reeves, for his little band of rebels to taste real fear. And in that moment, when survival was the only thing that mattered, they would abandon their pride.
“Do you think Reeves knows about them yet?” Iker asked.
Jaspar shook his head. “Not yet. But he will soon enough. A new group in his territory? He’ll take it as a challenge, maybe even a threat. When he finds out what they’re planning, he’ll hit them hard.”
The thought almost amused him, and for a moment, he indulged in the irony of it all. Caius and his group had stepped into the lion’s den, trying to go unnoticed while they plotted their little rebellion. But in a place where every whisper carried, and every move was watched, it was only a matter of time before Reeves set his sights on them. And when that happened, they would have no choice but to seek him out, their last hope lying in the very hands they’d spurned.
Jaspar let out a slow breath, settling deeper into his place among the shadows. The game had only just begun, and already, the pieces were moving as he’d anticipated. This was his world, after all. The gangs, the alliances, the whispered promises—they all danced to his tune, and soon, Caius and his people would too.
“Come on,” he murmured to Iker, gesturing to retreat further into the darkness. “Let them play their game a little longer. When the time’s right, we’ll be waiting. And then, we’ll see just how far they’re willing to go to survive.”
Without another word, Jaspar melted back into the night, his presence vanishing as smoothly as a shadow in the moonlight. He could afford to be patient, to let them struggle a little longer. Their resolve was admirable, yes, but it was only a matter of time before they realized the true cost of going it alone. And when they did, he’d be there, waiting with open arms and a devil’s grin, ready to catch them when they fell.