Chapter 445

Jadewick, by the ferry terminal. Next to the warehouse stood an old, slightly run-down bungalow. It was lunchtime, and the air carried a savory blend of cooking smells drifting from the hallway, mingling faintly with the mist rolling in from the river. A trace of medicinal scent lingered too, almost hidden beneath the scent of food. "Sir, I got the stuff." At the far end of the hall, Nigel Bentley stood by the doorway, clutching a slim box in both hands, hesitant to step inside. The inside of the room was a surprise — unlike the bungalow’s worn-out exterior, it was neat and well-equipped, almost spa-like in comfort. Hanson Bentley sat on a couch by the wall. On this chilly autumn day, he wasn’t wearing a shirt. His muscular chest and abs were lined with bruises and wounds — the worst of which was on his lower torso, a deep scar crusted blackish-brown from antiseptic, making it look even more brutal. He was focused, wrapping his injuries with bandages layer by layer. When he heard Nigel