Mustering the courage that she so desired, she eased herself into the room, then stared at the sight that was once Brown, her only son. His head was bandaged in various places, and the popular orange of the prison uniform had soot and some black spots. The right leg was torn from the hip down,and when she saw the damage that had been done to his leg, she found her eyes watering. Truly, she had failed as a mother. Because why was her son in the hospital, with such wounds all over his body? It irked her, the fact that she could have easily prevented everything that was unfolding before her eyes, but she had been too greedy to even take a glimpse and try to have self control. On his other leg was another bandage, and there was blood all over that area of his trouser. Sighing, Jenett Darius let the tears take its course, allowing it to cascade down her cheeks, allowing the sobs to rack her system. It was in this position that she was when she heard footsteps behind her. She tur
She was the devil herself, a different form of Delilah and Jezebel rolled into one. Not only was she charming, she was confident in her charm. She knew she could sweep him off her feet with just one stare, with a dress as simple as this, with makeup as prudent and as little as she had applied on her face. She was flexing her powers in front of him, baiting him. Mark found himself wondering what her plans were at that moment. She looked as if she had something up her sleeve, but she was going to be surprised when he launched his own offensive. He was going to turn the game on its head. And before she would come to acknowledge that, it would've been too late. “Mark Darius in the flesh. My God, your skin glows as usual. And this tuxedo? Don't tell me you dressed because of me, Mark.” He shrugged, placing his suitcase on the floor of the restaurant as he outstretched his arms to draw her into a hug. God! The way her body slipped into his told him that if he hadn't discovered a
He gave her a charming smile, then raised his hand as if in surrender. It made her laugh momentarily, but the laughter dried up quickly as soon as she remembered the situation at hand. “Of course you can go, Karen. Empty your bowels as you please.” Too excited to wait and laugh at his joke, she raced towards the restroom, her heart slamming in her chest. She closed the door on entry, trying to calm her breath as she swiped her phone hurriedly to the message icon. The message was clear as day. Scar was trying to know if it was time to attack yet. If she had given the thumbs up to start the operation. The plan was clear as day. They were to break into Mark's house, occupy his bedroom and wait for him there. He was to be shot on the limb of their choice, then brought to her. She was going to take it from there. She sent the thumbs up message to him, indicating that the operation should go on. At that moment, she called Jenett Darius. She had been aware of the prison break al
“Lawyers are quite expensive, my dear. We can get the state to issue one for you, but I have no idea why it seems to be taking so long. Trust me, Elena. I'm trying my best…” “Your best is not enough, mum!” At that moment, she bursted into tears, unable to hold it in any longer. As far as her being in prison was concerned, her mother had played a large part in it. It was all there, her greed and her ambition to always eat from the coffers of the rich and wealthy. It was backfiring now, and she was the one suffering for her mother's sins. But wasn't she lying when she said she didn't enjoy everything she had done to Mark Darius during the short period they had been married? She was lying alright. She had enjoyed it all, every single bit of it. She was also inside the cell because it was her that had committed the crime, not her mother. Yes, her mother was the foundation, but she was the builder, maybe she was the mason even. “You know I'm here because of your greed, mum! If on
Silently thanking the waiter and knowing he was going to tip him massively after that, he placed his leg in front of the waiter, and down went the waiter, the tray and the glasses of champagne. Mark Darius had to smile at his cunny and how fast his mind had seized the opportunity. It was a beautiful moment. He had positioned himself in such a way that the contents of the glass didn't touch him, but they drenched a laughing Karen instead, drenching her completely, from her hair to the upper part of her gown. At first, she was too shocked to speak. He stared at her now destroyed makeup, then tried his best to withhold the laughter that was threatening to escape the confinement of his throat. When the waiter stood up and began to apologize, her voice seemed to come back to her all of a sudden. As she screamed at the top of her voice, Mark Darius found himself chiding his subconscious. And to think that he had been in love with such a person. To think that he had even thought of
Markov arrived in the room after three minutes, breathing hard and picking his teeth with his toothpick. Sergei loved him for that. At least, he had a soldier amongst men. Terry came eight minutes later, striding majestically. Resisting the urge to smack the smirk from his face, he allowed his hand to feel his gun instead. “Now, remember boys, this is supposed to be an ambush and a break in. I reckon that they'll probably come from the backyard, probably use the window to make it to the room. We're to be alert and eradicate all of them.” Sergei paused, his heart hammering in his chest. He was excited and scared at the same time for he hadn't had a gun battle in ages, but he was a soldier, and he knew better than to display his emotions. His hands stable, he continued speaking. “We're shooting on sight. Try not to get shot please. Markov, stand next to the door. Shoot anybody that comes through it. Terry, stand in the corner next to the wardrobe, just opposite me.” Satisfied
Finding strength, he touched Markov lightly on the arm, then he touched his right ear. There were whispers coming from below the stairs, down the part that was round. It was the final lap of the staircase, the lap that led to the ground floor. Placing his finger over his lips, Sergei told his junior soldier using the sign language to prompt him that he should go down. Together, the soldiers went down, their rifles at the ready. The first three men that came running up the stairs were no different from the ones that had come up to the window. They ran aimlessly, not noticing the two soldiers that were lying down at the top of the stairs, who were ready to shoot at the slightest convenience. By the time they saw the soldiers, it was too late. Sergei caught the first one perfectly where he wanted it, in between the eyes, his second headshot of the day. Markov fired repeatedly, spreading bullets as the other two men jerked unconsciously and spiraled down the staircase. Pressing
When she moaned, he ran his hand up and down the fabric of her dress, then stopped himself just in time, when her hand went for his trousers. He had her just where he wanted. Karen Shapiro might be playing a game, but there was no doubt that she was attracted to him, that she had wanted him. That she was eager to have all of him. “Karen, we're at a parking lot! My God, who knew you could be this freaky?” The smile that followed was a shy one, and Mark found himself trying to decipher the meaning of her smile. She laughed, and he joined in. She then hugged him, drawing him close. He drew in the scent of her shampoo, then smiled evilly. Karen Shapiro, he thought inwardly, two could play that game. “There,” she said, disengaging from the hug, “Now you also have a bit of champagne over your lovely tuxedo as well.” He laughed, forcing the laughter out of his lips even though the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach was ever persistent. “Champagne couple it is, yes?” “Def