The phone slipped from Nicholas's hand, clattering to the floor of the car as he exchanged bewildered glances with Gnits and Philips, their faces etched with a mixture of fear and disbelief. Was that truly Theresa's voice? Of course it was, they were able to recognize the voice. Loud and clear, but how was that possible? Everyone was at Theresa's funeral and even if she was alive, why was Malakai just telling them about it for the first time? As the car continued its journey along the darkened road, the silence was eventually broken by Nicholas's uncertain voice. He just couldn't for once stop thinking about it, "Could Malakai be telling the truth?" Gnits, his expression a reflection of the turmoil within, responded cautiously. "We.. We just heard Theresa's voice on the phone. So... she... she... she's definitely not dead, and she's been with Malakai all this time." Philips, his brow creased with deep contemplation, let out a weighty sigh. "But does that mean Malakai has been holdin
"Fuck 'em!" Malakai said, sliding his phone down the desk as he leaned back in his high-backed leather chair, propping his polished black boots up on the ornate mahogany desk. The spacious office was dimly lit, the warm glow of a single table lamp casting shadows across the fine furnishings. He took a long, slow drag from the cigarette clenched between his fingers, the end glowing ember-red as he exhaled a plume of smoke through his nose. The silence was interrupted by a soft knock at the door. Malakai didn't look up, simply drawling in his deep, gravelly voice, "Come in." The door creaked open, and a young man in a crisp black suit poked his head inside, bowing deferentially. "What do you want?" Malakai asked. "Sir, there is a lady here to see you." The young man replies quickly. Malakai gulped down the cup of alcohol which burned down his throat, "Who is she?" he asked. "We have been asking her what her name is, but she refuses to reveal her ide
Malakai had barely settled back into his chair when the door to his office burst open once more. This time, it was Kreo, one of his most trusted men, working directly with him, who came rushing in. The young man's face was pale, his eyes wide with panic. With his expression, you could tell someone was wrong. "Master Malakai," Kreo gasped, struggling to catch his breath. "Kreo? Why would you burst in that way?" Malakai frowned in confusion. "It's... it's Michos." Kreo stuttered. Malakai's brow furrowed, a sense of dread coiling in the pit of his stomach. "What about him? What is wrong with Michos?" "He is... he is missing," Kreo stammered. "Wait, what? How is tha possible? He can't be missing... When was the last time I spoke with him?" "Well, I just received this information from his team. According to them, they have been searching for the past three days, but there's been no sign of him." Malakai felt the blood drain from his face, his heart lurc
Nicholas stepped out of his room, the weight of everything he had been facing and would be facing heavy on his shoulders. As he made his way towards the stairs, ready to start the new day with a new challenge which was of course, very inevitable, his phone suddenly started ringing. He paused, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the device. Glancing down at the screen, his brow furrowed as he recognized India's name displayed. He blinked his eyes to confirm if it was truly India. Without hesitation, he answered the call, his voice tinged with trepidation as he wondered what could be the reason for her unexpected contact this time around. It seemed this lady was hell-bent on this divorce thingy. "India," he said, his tone cautious. He was trying to stay as composed as possible. "G... good morning. Why... why are you calling so early this morning? Is there a problem?" Nicholas braced himself, expecting the familiar sound of India's frustration, perhaps even anger, as they continued t
The small, dimly lit room felt stifling, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken worry. Malakai sat on the worn couch, his fingers trembling as he grasped the bottle of red liquid, pouring himself a full cup. Without hesitation, he gulped it down, the fiery alcohol burning his throat, providing a momentary respite from the anguish that consumed him. He wanted more, just more and more. He didn't want to stop. That was the only thing that could relieves him of the pain he was going through. Across from him, the three older men – Wraith, Raven, and Vritt – exchanged concerned glances, their brows furrowed with a mixture of empathy and trepidation. If Malakai finished this bottle of alcohol, that would make it the seven bottle he'd been drinking within an hour. Wraith, his face etched with a solemn expression, leaned forward, his gaze locked with Malakai's. "Malakai, you've been drinking too much. I must advise you to stop now. Those are too much, that's like seven bottle now. You do
Malakai stood frozen, the static crackle of the phone line filling the deafening silence that hung thick in the air around him. Nicholas's voice, once so familiar, now carried a chilling weight that sent a shiver down Malakai's spine. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with the effort, as a thousand thoughts raced through his mind. Malakai took a deep, steadying breath, steeling himself before finally breaking the oppressive quiet. "Mr... Loughty, it's nice to hear from you again. Why did you call this time?" He asked, the words came out strained, betraying the turmoil raging within him. He still wanted to sound the old cocky Malakai who wasn't broken by the unexpected disappearance of his son, but he failed. His arrogance flopped. Nicholas's deep chuckle rumbled through the receiver, further unsettling Malakai. "How are you doing, Malakai? It's been a while we talked, so I thought of checking up... That's what friends do, right?" Niçholas kept the casual tone, this time t
Nicholas stared at the phone screen of his phone as he gently brought it away from him ears, the call abruptly ended by Malakai. A chuckle escaped his lips as he slowly turned to face Michos whose hands were still bound with chain to two separate poles. A smirk tugged at the corners of Nicholas' mouth as he regarded the captive. "Did you hear what your father said?" Nicholas asked, amusement lacing his tone. Michos frowned, confusion etched across his features. "No... I didn't. I didn't hear anything, I was expecting you to put the phone on speaker as he spoke with him, but obviously you are not that ballsy. My dad was never wrong about you... but I know my father is coming to save me." Nicholas let out a low chuckle. "I doubt that. You father doesn't have that courage, Michos. Tu padre lleva tanto tiempo escondido detrás de una máscara. So, if he had the courage, he would have shown his face but he can't." "You are very delusional, Niçholas. Sólo espera y mira
Nicholas gently sauntered down the staircase, his face illuminated with a gentle smirk as he approached the front room. The wooden steps creaked softly under his weight, the sound echoing through the dimly lit corridor. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, his gaze immediately fell upon Michos, who sat hunched on a tattered sofa, his battered form shuddering in pain. The young man's bloodied and torn skin had been tended to by the guards - that was Nicholas's order but the physical wounds were merely the surface of his suffering. This wasn't what Niçholas wanted to do, but he really had no choice. Malakai had inflicted pain on so many people and doing so to his foster son wouldn't be considered absurd but something just didn't feel right. He didn't want to feel guilty but he did, despite knowing that Michos wasn't completely guilty on this. He was behind everything happening in that organization. Nicholas approached Michos with measured steps, his eyes narrow