Chapter hundred forty

“The masked men.” Aaron, numb to everything around him, just waiting for the time one of those rogues pulled the trigger, remembered one of the highest-grossing actors in the 1960s who played a part in the 18th-century horror story, the masked men.

He wished he were Stewart Hart, one of the magicians who cast away the bad guys in a single swoop. Too bad, the world of fantasy remained in the genre of unrealistic imagination.

Back to his reality, Aaron was parched and heavily doused in his sweat that had stuck to his skin and obviously stained his white tee shirt. “Water.” Aaron croaked out. He had no idea how long he was going to remain, as cited on the wooden chair that sunk deep into his butt. His plea was rewarded with a cold splash of iced bucket water. “You can drink as much as you want.” Dragon snarled into his face, the stale whiff of his breath causing him to stifle his nostrils.

Lucas stood in front of the prison entrance, white snowflakes, cascading the area, a sign that Ch
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