Fifty nine

The mere sight of the man radiated an aura of imminent danger. His eyes on them were filled with rage that could kill. Clad in an Armani suit, a substantial gold chain draped around his neck, a distinctive rod-like scar etched into his left cheek.

In one hand, he gripped a bill, while the other clutched a rod, poised as if ready to unleash violence. A cohort of a dozen tattooed men, their skin etched with marks of their own pasts, stood in formation beside him, effectively encircling the entire group.

“I’ve asked a goddamn question here!!! Where the hell did you people come from, and who’s the fu¢ker that granted you access?!” he roared once more.

A sense of shock and panic permeated the air, leaving everyone bewildered and uncertain about the unfolding situation.

Formally known as Mr. Desmond yet frequently referred to as Mr. D, this individual held the position of Mr. Rowlings’ most trusted aide. Together, they had navigated a rugged path during their early years, a journey that had
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