Patrick (Part 7) MISSION IMPOSSIBLE
I have 24 hours to kill Santos. The jury already signed my death warrant, but I won’t die until he’s gone. Not peacefully. Not quickly. He took everything from me—Maria, my life, my future. Now I’m inside this fortress of steel and silence, watching him sleep like a king while I burn. The guards don’t know I’ve got the master key. They don’t know I’m already in his cell. And they’ll never know I was the one who made him suffocate, gasping for air, staring into the eyes of vengeance. This isn’t escape. This is justice.My execution is set for Friday. Today’s Thursday. One day left—and I still haven’t killed Santos.\n\nThe clock ticks in my skull with every heartbeat. I watch Guard Reyes through the bars as he chews his lukewarm stew, oblivious. This is the moment. I slam my tray against the door, shouting about a rat in my food. He turns, annoyed, stepping closer. That’s when I strike—fast, silent, precise. The key ring vanishes into my sleeve.\n\nNo alarms. No screams. Just me, moving like smoke through service corridors meant for janitors and ghosts. Every camera blind spot I memorized over months becomes my path. Every breath I take is measured, controlled. I pass two guards slumped in a supply room—neck snapped, no choice. They were loyal to him.\n\nNow I stand outside Santos’s private cell. He’s asleep, snoring softly beneath a thin blanket. The man who burned Maria alive. The man who laughed as they dragged me away.\n\nI pull the second pillow from my bag. My hands don’t shake.\n\nHe wakes when the fabric touches his face. His eyes widen. He thrashes. I lean in close, whispering, "This is for Maria."
King Patrick
works: 55
Forbidden
I never meant to fall for her. She was grace in motion, peace in silence—everything I wasn’t. At 26, I thought I knew love, but then I met Sister Elise. Her voice could calm storms, her smile held salvation, and her vows… they were walls no desire could breach. Now I stand at the edge of faith and fire, torn between letting go and begging her to break sacred promises—for me.
The Weight of Blood
I can feel it inside me now—the pulse beneath my ribs that isn’t mine. The Change is coming, and I don’t know if I’ll be human when it’s done. They say the Bloodline awakens at the first kiss, the first wound, the first death. Mine surged the moment I touched her, and now we’re both marked. The Elders want me caged. The Outcasts want me weaponized. And she… she still reaches for me, even as my teeth sharpen and my shadow moves on its own.
THE WEREWOLF'S NIGHT
I used to hunt because it was in my blood. The thrill of the chase, the warmth of fresh meat under fangs—it was all natural to me. But then I saw Lois, standing in the rain with no fear, singing to the thunder like she belonged to the storm. Now I don’t want to kill. Now I want to protect. And that makes me a traitor to the Clan. They say no one escapes the pack. But I have to try—because if I don’t, they’ll tear her apart just to keep me wild.
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