Patrick (Part 5) THE TAKEDOWN
Two years. That’s how long I’ve carried this hollow inside me since Maria died. I told myself I was done with killing, that the blade had taken enough. But when I saw Santos behind bars—alive, breathing, while she rots in the ground—I knew the only way forward was through blood. I had to get to him. And the only language this world understands is violence.I watched the news report with my hands shaking—not from fear, but from relief. Santos. Arrested. Locked up. Finally within reach.\n\nI didn’t smile. I didn’t cry. I just stared at the screen until the image burned into my skull. Two years of silence, of sleepless nights, of holding Maria’s cold wedding ring like a prayer bead. And now… a door opened. Not to freedom. To hell.\n\nBut I had to go there.\n\nThe next morning, I found Judge Harlan—the man who sentenced my father to hang for a crime he didn’t commit. He smiled as he got out of his car, greeted by his wife and two little girls. Laughter. Family. Everything I lost.\n\nI followed them inside. No hesitation. Knife drawn.\n\n‘Call the police,’ I told his wife, pressing steel to his throat. ‘Tell them a man is here to kill your husband right now.’\n\nShe screamed. They came fast. SWAT. Lights. Shouts.\n\nI didn’t wait. One slash. Then another. And another.\n\nWhen they broke down the door, I stood there, covered in blood, arms open.\n\n‘Arrest me,’ I said. ‘Send me to Blackmire Penitentiary.’\n\nBecause that’s where Santos waits.\n\nAnd I’m coming for him.
King Patrick
works: 55
Not Love
I’ve memorized the way Chadwick laughs—how his head tilts back just slightly, like he’s offering his joy to the sky. I know his coffee order, the book he always carries but never finishes, even the way he taps his pen when he’s thinking. But he doesn’t know I exist. Not really. And now, after months of watching from the shadows, I have to decide: do I stay invisible, or finally step into the light where he might see me… or crush me?
Patrick (Part 1) THE BEGINNING
I kill people for money. Not because I enjoy it—though the silence after a clean shot is peaceful—but because Mom still lives in that creaky wooden house at the edge of the old plantation. The same one where we picked cotton until my first contract paid enough to buy groceries that didn’t come from the master’s handout. She asks how I afford steak now, and I smile and say I work three jobs. If she knew the truth, she’d see me as one of *them*—the men with whips disguised as suits. But every time I pull the trigger, I’m just trying to keep her safe… and silent.
MORE THAN BESTIES
We made a pact—just friends, just sex, no love. Greyson, Janette, and I swore it would never go deeper. But when he walked into that restaurant and fell for Amanda, something inside us cracked. Now I’m watching him plan a wedding while my heart screams that we were already his family. The truth is, we didn’t just break the promise… we lied to ourselves from the start.
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