❝Morrison is my archenemy and he only dies with my hands wrapped around his neck...❞
Carl John Morrison has never met any man who surpasses Aiden Black. He's a stuck-up prick. Easy on the eye. A lethal weapon.
And Carl has a weakness for him.
A tr...
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Epilogue: Devil’s playground
Several months later.
It was another monotonous day for Monty Fredrick then again his last twenty-four hours of serving in a pay-to-stay jail room which was more like a private suite in a five star hotel at Central county jail. It was nothing compared to the stench cells just a couple floors down where one would learn to make peace with inmates rhythmically banging on the walls covered in piss, and making live audios of screams layered one on top of the other, a gruesome choir of pain.
Upstairs was where the corrupt big boys were held while their charges were fixed up the food chain. Everything about the rooms upstairs was ornate. The beds were king sized and soft, made up with the finest Egyptian silk sheets and snuggly continental pillows.
There were leather chairs and recliners. Also modern computers rooted on expensive oak desks, mini libraries, well stocked fridges and plasma screens mounted on the uniformly painted ashen walls, telephones and vases brimming with fresh flowers at the far end of each of the fancy cells. The only thing that gave away the rooms’ true purpose was the heavy wooden door with iron bars swaddled at the window, and a guard stationed outside 24/7.
Although let’s face it, the guard was more of a waiter providing room service around the clock, attending to the whims of the ‘guests.’
“Mr. Fredrick you’ve got a visitor.” It was one of the regular guards stationed outside. Not much of a talker—more of a grumpy bear.
Monty slowly shoved the bed covers away from his naked torso and attempted a weak smile that made his face hurt. “Finally, is it anyone from my family?” He asked with a hopeful expression since none of them had cared to visit during his incarceration. Judging by how the grumpy bear was glaring at him without bothering to form any more words, he already knew his answer. Monty gave a short bitter laugh. “Great.”
“Should I send your visitor in or what?”
“Yeah, whatever,” he murmured, a dejected sigh escaping him. “Do what you gotta do.”
Minutes later, a familiar man airing some sorts of Saudi royal aura waltzed inside Monty’s cell. He was dressed up in a white thobe, matching keffiyeh and a coal-black agal which was meticulously wrapped around his head. Aiden Black. His presence was anything but welcomed.
Monty felt like he was opening his door to the angel of death himself.
Aiden painstakingly studied the room while moving in closer. “Thought I should pay you a visit before you got turned loose tomorrow.” he sounded amused.
“What do you want from me?” Monty asked quietly, carefully eyeing the Arabian man’s movements. So far there was nothing threatening about his demeanor but you never know.
Aiden’s eyes remained pinned on him but nothing came out of the man’s mouth.
Monty suddenly felt chills crawling inside his spine. Was it fear? Man, he had no slightest idea.
