2024-09-20 18:11:44
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Lies
Back in Italy…Scott’s EstateThe sun was beginning to set, and the day was slowly descending into darkness.Aunt Kelly walked briskly into her room after leaving the dining hall, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. She made her way straight to her wardrobe, opened it, and pulled out a long, black cloak. With practiced ease, she wrapped it around herself and fastened it at the front. The cloak was long enough to cover her legs entirely and came with a deep hood that shadowed her face in darkness when worn.She grabbed her purse and car keys from the nearby dresser, then turned toward the exit. But just as she was about to reach the door, it slid open with a soft whoosh.She froze mid-step, her heart skipping a beat.To her relief, it was only Edward.Letting out a sigh of relief, she placed a hand on her chest. “You scared me,” she murmured, trying to catch her breath.Edward stepped inside and paused, taking in her unusual attire. His gaze traveled from head to toe,
Trust is a loaded gun
Back in Mr. Fernando’s Mansion...The courtyard of the mansion was bustling with heavily built men, each of them armed with guns and warming up their muscles. Some were engaged in target practice—firing at paper silhouettes pinned a few meters away, the air vibrating with the sharp cracks of gunfire.Inside the mansion, the living room was equally crowded with men, their movements calculated and silent. They surrounded the large center table, where stacks of cash were being counted, arranged, and loaded into a sleek silver briefcase. The atmosphere buzzed with intensity and precision.Beside the table, several packs of cocaine and opium lay in neat piles. Bolasco, Mr. Fernando’s trusted right-hand man, was personally overseeing the packaging of the narcotics, ensuring everything was in perfect order.Mr. Fernando sat opposite the operation, his expression hard as stone. In his right hand, he gripped a glass of whiskey. Though his eyes followed the hustle of his men, his mind wandered
Six months or Six bullets
Dawn stood there in silence after Perez finished speaking, her mind working rapidly to digest and process everything he had just said.Beside her, Blake watched her intently. His gaze never left her face as he prayed inwardly—desperately—for her to say yes. A silent plea echoed through his mind: Please agree. Please…But after a few long moments of heavy silence, she finally spoke."I'm sorry," Dawn said, her voice calm yet firm. "But my decision hasn’t changed since the last time. I won’t get myself involved in this." Her tone was resolute, final."But why?" Perez asked, confusion creeping into his expression. Her hesitation had given him hope—he truly thought she would agree this time.Dawn’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Because it’s too dangerous. Too risky. I already put my life on the line for months trying to catch the Hunter. I nearly lost my life doing that, and now I’m in here because of him. I can’t take another risk like that. Not again.""Exactly!" Perez leaned forward, frustr
One last risk
Perez remained crouched inside the narrow, stinking passage after Blake left, his back pressed against the damp wall. He waited patiently, his eyes fixed upward, the faint light from above barely illuminating the mold-streaked walls around him. A few moments later, Blake reappeared at the top of the hole. Without saying a word, he tossed a thick rope down into the shaft. Perez grinned, immediately gripping the rope with both hands. Blake braced himself and began pulling. With a grunt and a heave, Perez was hoisted up and out of the tunnel. As he emerged, the damp, rotten smell of the passage gave way to the dry, dusty air of the outside. He took a breath and glanced around. They were in the backyard of a building—filthy, cluttered with waste, broken crates, rusted scraps of metal, and piles of old, tattered fabric. Rats scurried in the shadows. The place was a graveyard of forgotten things. From where they stood, muffled voices could be heard drifting from inside the building—fe
I'm in
“We haven’t forgotten what you did, Blake,” Perez said, his voice turning cold and firm. “You once worked for Jordan. You killed for him. To save your own skin, you did things that made the rest of us sick. And you know what Chief Jim did when he found out? He forgave you. He could’ve put a bullet in your head. God knows you deserved it. But he didn’t. He let it slide. He showed mercy when he didn’t have to.”Perez pulled back slightly, his eyes narrowing as they bore into Blake’s.“This... this is your chance to repay that.”He straightened again, squaring his shoulders as if delivering a verdict. “Jordan killed Jim’s son. Right in front of him. Shot him like an animal. We’re not just doing this for ourselves, Blake. We’re doing it for him. So get off the damn fence and pick a side. Let’s break out of here and kill that son of a bitch.”Blake went mute again, jaw clenched, and his eyes clouded with torment.He didn’t need the reminder. The guilt had never left. It gnawed at him every
Convincing your comrade
Blake paused his digging after hearing those words.He stood upright with a slow, stiff motion, his muscles sore from the day’s relentless toil. The shovel dropped to his side, its metal head sinking slightly into the dry, sunbaked soil. Raising his right arm, he wiped the sweat dripping down his forehead with the back of his sleeve, smearing dirt across his brow in the process.The sky above blazed in relentless fury, and the dry air reeked of sweat, dust, and rusting iron from the nearby barbed wire fences. Around them, inmates moved like sluggish ants—some digging, others pushing wheelbarrows of sand under the scorching gaze of the armed guards.Blake exhaled a long, weary breath, the kind that came from somewhere deeper than his lungs. A breath that carried the weight of something heavier than just exhaustion. He turned his head slowly, meeting Officer Perez’s gaze with a guarded look.“What you’re saying...” Blake began, his voice low, his tone tinged with disbelief. “It’s not as
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