At Singapore Prison. Matthew sat on the mat in front of the TV, legs crunched up, his eyes focused on the TV screen that blared out loudly. The other inmates laughed among themselves, cracking dry old-town jokes. His eyes locked heavily on the TV screen, his fists clenched so tightly they began to bruise. Lips tightened in a thin line. A vicious, angry smirk rose to his lips. “So he had the son then. I guess I underestimated him.” He muttered, regret welling up in his tummy. A young inmate with the number ‘Inmate 97’ written on his orange khaki, hands dug into pockets, and a tattoo around his face with a long scorpion one draped around his shoulder. He entered the TV room, eyes wandering all over the men gathered until they landed on a familiar figure. He walked towards the mat and sat beside Mathew. “What’s up, buddy? What is it?” He asked, eyes trailing and following Mathew’s burning gaze on the screen. “What? You know them?” Matthew squeezed his brow tighter. “Yes, they are th

“Very well.” Draven paused; a smirk fell on his lips. He continued, “Were you interviewed by the HR during your screening process?” Adam looked between his uncle’s nervous gaze and Draven’s stern one. He swallowed hard. “Ur… no, m-my uncle employed me.” Everyone gasped, mouth hung open. Draven raised his hands to reduce the decorum. “You can go; thank you.” He said to Adam. “Wait,” he suddenly said, causing Adam to stop dead in his tracks and look back. “Report to my office tomorrow with your medical reports.” He stretched his file towards him. “Have it.” Adam collected the file and hurried out of the room. Everyone was hot in their seat now. But no one could leave. “Moving on,” Draven said casually, brushing his hair with the tips of his hands. He was stirring up fire, he knew. But the fire was far from burning to the level it would get to by the time he was done with them. With hands in pocket, his charm aura slamming on the directors. He continued. “Purity Declan.

CrestFall City. The ladies gather around the dining table; Iren walks in, trays in hand. “Enjoy, ladies,” she said, dropping two large plates of Alfredo pasta, coupled with a plate of fresh salad and another plate of grilled turkey. “Thank you, Iren.” Alera muttered, grabbing the salad plate closer to her. Iren’s lips curved upwards, although the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re welcome darling,” she replied. “You just wait and see what I will do to y’all,” she muttered inwardly. She turned to leave and collided into Silver. “Watch it, bitch!” Silver snapped. “Yeah… whatever.” Iren’s eye squinted; a sly smirk rested on her face. She pushed Silver, who looked at her confused, away and hurried to the back corridor that led to the kitchen, dipped her hands into her apron, and brought out a small private telephone. She dialed Don’s number. “Yes,” Don grunted, his voice deep and authoritative. “I hope you are not trying to waste my time this time.” “No, Don… I’ve come b

Draven stormed out of his room and pressed the corridor buzzer. The alarm rang in the entire mansion; everyone ran out of their room, eyes widened with panic. Dennis and his wife Kira, his sister, and the entire workers of the residence. “The living room, everyone.” He said, voice low and commanding. Everyone headed downstairs, brows furrowed but not wanting to question him after seeing the seriousness he wore. They all headed to the living room and sat down, confusion on their faces. The workers mumbled among themselves. Draven began, hands in pockets, “I know you all are wondering why the sudden buzzer.” He sighed and heaved deeply, “Unfortunately my women have been taken at the expense of me coming down here.” “What?” Draven’s sister exclaimed. Everyone straightened up in their seat. “What? How?” Dennis leaned forward, brows furrowed. “Yes… They kidnapped them and drugged the security men. Of which was the handiwork of a black sheep who worked for us. Luckily, one of t

Boom Boom Boom Boom Boom Boom Boom Boom Boom Boom Boom Boom Gunshots began flying everywhere; the men before Don began shooting too, lost and confused, tracing where the horrific gunshots were coming from. In the midst of the chaos, Draven sneaked towards the door and opened it widely, dodging a bullet one of the guys shot towards him. Policemen armed with guns trooped in, followed by Draven’s men. They entered one by one, running to the west side of the room, while Don’s men moved to the east. The air choked with tension and tasted of blood and death like a war zone. Don’s men began shooting; the policemen took cover beside the brick and began shooting too, likewise. Two men dropped on the floor. Dead just like that. The DPO (Deputy Police Officer) ran and signaled to his men to move south quietly. Immediately the rest of Don’s men ran to the center of the room to begin shooting; the police surrounded them. “Police! Drop your weapons. NOW!” The DPO shouted.