"What the freak! What is the meaning of this?" one of the doctors demanded, his voice tinged with a hint of annoyance. Nicholas stepped into the room, his eyes narrowed in a fierce glare. "None of you should even try to touch Michos. I am taking him out of here," he spat, his voice dripping with venom. "Mr. Loughty, this is a..." one of the doctors tried to speak. "Just shut the hell up!" Niçholas cut in, his eyes glancing at their badges one after the other. It was exactly the badges Ryan had drawn. The badges were different and that obviously stated their level in the organization, but he still couldn't believe that these doctors were truly working with Malakai. The doctors in the sterile operating theater exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of how to respond to this unexpected outburst. Finally, after so many minutes of silence another doctor, a woman with a kind yet stern demeanor, spoke up. "Mr Loughty, do you understand the implications of what you're
The clock on Nicholas's wrist ticked past 6 o'clock as he stole a glance, the minutes slipping away with each labored breath Michos took on his lap. The guard who was sitting in the front seat beside the driver turned back, his brow furrowed with concern. "Is he still breathing?" the guard asked, his voice tinged with urgency. Nicholas looked down at the young man's pale, unconscious face, then back to the guard. "I can still feel his pulse, but his heart isn't beating normally." His own heartbeat quickened, the weight of Michos's life resting precariously in his hands. The guard's eyes widened. "Then we need to get him to a hospital right away! We're running out of time. How many hours drive is it to First City hospital... That's the only hospital we can trust now since it looks like the RMI have taken over everything." Nicholas shook his head firmly. "No hospitals... When it comes to this, we can't even trust the first city hospital. We're taking him straight
The heavy silence that had blanketed the lounge where Nicholas, Mr Philips, Ryan and all of the guards were all sitting, mourning Michos's death was suffocating, punctuated only by the muffled sobs of Imran and Rookson. Their faces were streaked with tears and one could tell that they had been crying for a very long time now. Corer stood beside them, her expression unreadable as she glanced at the two men with a frown. Her face expressed no particular emotion, none one could tell if she was sad or not, but she was obviously irritated by Rookson and Imran's cry. "Can you guys shut the fuck up!? Why are the two of you crying so hard as though it's one of your relatives that passed away?" Corer said, her voice laced with a hint of disdain. "It looks like you're faking it, because I don't get why you're both crying so hard. Just tell us if you are hiding anything." Rookson looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy. "Why would you say that, Corer?" he said, his voice
The silence had once again descended, broken only by the occasional shifting of bodies and the muted ticking of the grandfather clock, that was in the wall. Ryan, his brow furrowed, finally spoke up, his voice cutting through the stillness. "What are we going to do about Michos's body now Nicholas? What if the RMI wants his body, what would we do about it?" he asked, his words weighted. Nicholas sighed, his expression pensive, "They definitely can't ask for the body and even if they do, I belie..." Nicholas couldn't finish his statement when his phone began to vibrate on the table, the sudden sound startling the occupants of the room. Nicholas frowned, his gaze fixed on the screen as he looked the caller ID. Noticing his change in demeanor, Mr. Philips leaned forward, his own curiosity piqued. "Who is it calling?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of concern and curiosity. Reluctantly, Nicholas looked up, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation. "It's Ma
The sun's warm rays beamed down upon the white gate as Nicholas gently eased himself out of the black vehicle. His movements were measured and deliberate, betraying none of the anticipation that swirled within him. With his black leather briefcase firmly in hand, he approached the gate, his polished boots clicking against the well-manicured path. He had driven himself from the Loughty's estate to this DeVenera Estate and he only one mission. Nicholas paused before the gate, his gaze sweeping over the intricate ironwork. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and pressed the brass bell, the chime echoing through the quiet scene. He stood there calmly, his expression neutral, as he waited for a response. The minutes ticked by, the only sound the occasional chirping of birds. It looked like most people in that community has a parrot. Then, finally, the gate began to creak open, revealing a burly man in a crisp blue uniform. The guard's eyes narrowed as he took in
Vritt's brow furrowed as Nicholas said that, but then realization dawned on his features. "Ah, of course, you are very right," he said, nodding. He turned towards the dining room and called out, "Darling, Liam, I need you to go to your room for a bit. The work is about to begin. I am really sorry for the inconveniences I may be causing you okay. Liam, if you're not done with your meal, you can definitely take it upstairs." Instantly, Vritt's wife and son rose from the table and hurried up the stairs, disappearing from view. Vritt watched them go, then turned his attention back to Nicholas, a gleam of anticipation in his eyes. "There," he said, leaning back against the sofa. "Now, we can talk freely. What do you have for me, Rhino?" Nicholas reached down and grasped the handle of the briefcase, lifting it onto the coffee table between them. He paused, his fingers caressing the smooth leather, and then slowly opened the clasps. Vritt leaned forward, his eyes
Wraith paced back and forth in the lounge, the phone in his hand trembling slightly as he dialed Vritt's number yet again. Raven and Malakai sat silently nearby, their expressions tense. Malakai, seated in his wheelchair, wore a pained and frustrated look, as if the weight of the situation bore heavily upon him. Vritt was the one delaying them. He should have arrived by now. Malakai glanced at the walk clock and shook his head again. The phone rang, the tone echoing through the room, but there was no answer on the other end. Wraith frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Vritt isn't picking up, he isn't answering is call... When did he start to that? I have been calling him for the past ten minutes and I've not even gotten a response?" he muttered, dropping the phone onto the table with a frustrated sigh. He slumped into one of the plush armchairs, his shoulders sagging. Raven cleared his throat, drawing Wraith's attention. "How long are we going to wait for Vritt to arri
Malakai's fingers trembled as he grasped the phone from Raven. His eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, as he raised the phone to his ear, the commander's voice crackling through the speaker. "What card are you talking about?" Malakai demanded, the words clipped and terse. A heavy pause hung in the air, the commander's hesitation patent. "The card says, 'Compliments of Niçholas Loughty,'" he replied solemnly. Malakai felt the phone slip from his grasp, clattering to the floor as his hands went slack. Raven and Wraith exchanged bewildered glances, their brows furrowed in confusion. What did the commander say? They had no idea. "Malakai, what did the commander say?" Raven asked, his voice tinged with concern, surprise and worry for the phone to have dropped down from Malakai's down. Malakai's gaze was fixed, his features etched with a mixture of fear, anger, and overwhelming sorrow. At first, he didn't know how to react. He swallowed hard, the words barely audible as they tumbled fr