Whispers in the Hell

Ace moved through the hospital’s quiet hallways until he reached the door of Mr. Quinn’s room. Inside, the ambient hum of medical machinery filled the air, an almost rhythmic accompaniment to the steady rise and fall of the elder's chest as he rested. Ace’s expression softened slightly as he entered, but his posture remained guarded.

“Mr. Quinn,” Ace greeted in a low, respectful tone. The man on the bed stirred, turning to look at him, his eyes warming with recognition and a hint of relief.

“Ace…” Mr. Quinn murmured, his voice rasping with the effort to speak. “I didn’t think... you’d come.”

“I came to ensure everything is under control,” Ace replied, his voice measured and calm, masking the underlying worry that only he could detect. The world saw Quinn as a powerful, almost untouchable figure, but to Ace, he was a leader worthy of respect—a figure who had shaped and guided the world around him.

As they exchanged a few more words, the door opened, and Andrea walked in, her face light
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