❝ Fire on fire, we're normally killers
With this much desire, together, we're winners. ❞
Marie Reynolds works as a doctor in Fox River Penitentiary, a male prison. After the tragic death of her uncle, Terrence Steadman, she grows to despise...
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"You really think that I would help you? What good could a brassy fuckin' brat like you possibly bring me?"
A man in a suit sat in his leather chair, a glass of liquor in his hand as he used the other to press a phone to his right ear. He had dark brown, short hair, and a very stern face. Brown eyes, and a scar under his left eyebrow. That is, the one scar that was visible to the eye.
If you'd show his picture to any person in America, they'd recognize him as The Godfather, Capo dei Capi, The Boss of all bosses etc. Everyone knew who he was; well, at least they thought they knew; what he did, who he killed. . . The rest about him was mystery. He was, and still remains, the most feared and mysterious man of all time. Not even the government managed to get in his trace, as he kept his domicile hidden.
But a drooly, twenty year old brat from Illinois was calling him on his personal phone.
"I could deliver you Caroline Reynolds." the soft voice spoke, causing the man to let out a snort.
"Caroline Reynolds? Now why would I want you to deliver that whore to me? I have a goddamn harem of my own."
"I think you and I both know why, Christian." the young woman said, bringing him to raise an eyebrow. "Impressive. Not many people I met have had the fuckin' chance to call me by my name. That is, the ones that are still breathing." he threatened.
"But I am not anyone, Mister." she explained, and from the tone of her voice he could tell that she had a smile on her face.
"And who are you, if I may ask?"
"Aleksandra Karanikolau." the woman said, her tone flat as she spoke. "Now you know my name too, Christian. You could say we're friends."
"Barely aquaintances, actually. That is, untill I put a bullet in your head, Aleksandra Karanikolau."
"Oh, but why would you do that when the whole world could be at the palm of your hand?" she asked, "Caroline Reynolds owns confidential information that could benefit you and your. . . Politics, per say."
After a few moments of silence, the man spoke again, "One phone call to the Governor and you deliver me Caroline Reynolds? Something sure is fuckin' smelly in here, don't you think?"
"Are you going to do it or not? You're wasting my time." the female asked, annoyance evident in her voice.
Christian chuckled, downing the liquor that was in his glass before slamming it on the desk in front of him. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, revealing a smirk. After all these years, no human that he had ever met had the balls to talk so arrogantly in his presence.
"You know what?" he asked, leaning back in his chair, "Fuck it. I'm gonna."
