The Breaking Point

Day 20 – The Price of Loyalty

Malcolm Reese had seen enough executions in the past week to last a lifetime.

And now, as he stood near the center of Jackson Ridge, watching Cole’s men drag a terrified man toward the old town square, he realized something.

This wasn’t war.

This was a slaughterhouse.

Cole was tightening his grip on the town, making examples of anyone who stepped out of line. Three people had already died this week.

And now?

Number four was about to join them.

Malcolm clenched his fists.

Because this time, he knew the man kneeling in the dirt.

Cole paced in front of the gathered townspeople, hands clasped behind his back.

"Tell me, friends," he said, his voice calm, almost bored. "What happens when someone steals from their own people?"

Silence.

Malcolm could feel the fear in the air. No one spoke. No one even moved.

Cole turned, looking down at the kneeling prisoner.

"Jasper Miller," he sighed. "You’ve been with us since day one. Which makes this… disappointing."

Jasper was shaking. A thin, wiry man in his forties, he had once been a mechanic before the world fell apart.

Now, he was just another dead man waiting to happen.

Malcolm stepped forward. "Cole—"

Cole raised a hand, cutting him off. "You know the rules, Reese."

Malcolm gritted his teeth.

Jasper wasn’t a thief. He was a father—a man with two kids who had been starving for days.

He had stolen one can of beans from the ration stores.

And now he was about to die for it.

Cole sighed dramatically. "Stealing weakens us all. And in times like these, weakness gets people killed."

He turned, offering Malcolm a handgun.

"Do it."

Malcolm stared at the weapon.

The world around him seemed to narrow.

The faces of the town blurred—tired, broken people, too afraid to speak.

Jasper’s shaking breaths.

Cole’s expectant smirk.

Malcolm took the gun.

And then, very carefully, he said:

"No."

The tension in the air shifted instantly.

Cole’s men stiffened. A few reached for their weapons, waiting for their leader’s response.

Malcolm held his ground.

"You refusing an order, Reese?" Cole asked, his voice dangerously smooth.

Malcolm didn’t blink. "I am."

Cole let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

"See, I knew you had a soft streak," he murmured. "But I thought you were smarter than this."

Malcolm ignored the insult. "We have enough food to last another two weeks. You’re making an example out of him for no reason."

Cole tilted his head. "No reason?"

He grabbed Jasper by the hair, yanking his head back. The man let out a gasp of pain.

"This?" Cole said. "This is control. If people think they can break the rules, they start asking questions. And if they start asking questions, they start wondering if they need us at all."

Malcolm clenched his jaw.

This had never been about food.

It was about power.

Cole smiled. "So, I’ll ask you again."

He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only Malcolm could hear.

"Are you with me?"

Malcolm’s fingers tightened around the gun.

His mind raced.

He could do it.

Shoot Cole. Right here. Right now.

But there were too many armed men in the square. Even if he managed to kill Cole, he’d be gunned down in seconds.

He needed a different play.

So instead—

He turned, aimed the gun at Jasper’s head—

And fired.

The shot echoed through the town square.

Jasper collapsed.

For a long moment, there was nothing.

No sound. No movement.

Then Cole smiled.

He clapped Malcolm on the shoulder. "See? That wasn’t so hard."

Malcolm forced himself to nod.

He turned, shoving the gun back into Cole’s hands.

"Next time, you do it yourself," he muttered.

Then he walked away.

His hands trembled as he clenched them into fists.

He didn’t look back at Jasper’s lifeless body.

Didn’t look at the faces of the people watching.

Because if he did—

He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to live with what he’d just done.

Malcolm stood in the dim light of his makeshift quarters, gripping the edge of the old metal sink, trying to steady his breathing.

His reflection in the cracked mirror looked hollow.

Empty.

Cole had backed him into a corner.

Malcolm had made his choice.

But that didn’t mean he was done.

Because there was only one way this ended now.

Cole had to die.

And Malcolm was going to be the one to do it.