Patrick (Part 9) LAST GOODBYES
I’m a ghost now—haunted not by the lives I’ve taken, but by the one life I couldn’t save. The country is hunting me, every streetlight a spotlight, every whisper a threat. But before I vanish, there’s one last thing I have to do. One person who deserves more than silence. My mother. She raised me in the dark so I could fight in the shadows. And tonight, I return—not for forgiveness, but to give her the freedom I never had.Rain tapped against the glass like fingers testing the lock. I slipped through the window frame, boots landing soft on the floorboards—same creaky third plank, same smell of mildew and old lavender. Home.\n\nMy heart pounded, not from fear of capture, but from seeing her door still slightly open, just like when I was a kid. I didn’t dare go closer. One wrong sound, one breath too loud, and I’d bring the whole machine down on her. Instead, I went straight to the loose floorboard beneath my bed. Twenty-nine million in untraceable crypto-keys and blood-stained bills. I took only a million—enough to disappear. The rest stayed buried.\n\nI left the note on her pillow, written in steady hand: simple, clean, final. Then I waited in the dark for ten minutes, watching her sleep, memorizing the rise and fall of her chest.\n\nAs I turned to leave, a floorboard groaned. Her eyes fluttered. I froze. Please don’t wake. Not now.\n\nShe stirred, reached for the lamp, saw the letter. I slipped out the window just as she began to cry.
King Patrick
works: 55
WEDNESDAY (BOOK TWO)
I remember dying in that lab—Morticia’s shadow the last thing I saw. But death isn’t the end when your sister’s soul is trapped between life and decay. Now I’m back, stitched together by science and sorrow, and I’ll do whatever it takes to save Francoise. Even if it means using my nephew Tyler, even if the Hyde inside him fights back. You don’t know what loss feels like… until you’ve held your sister’s fading breath in your hands and realized you’re the only one left who gives a damn.
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.
Gunners
I never wanted this ring. It’s heavy with lies, forged in blood, blessed by wolves in priest’s clothing. They called it peace. I call it a prison. Me—a Conti, heir to Naples’ oldest crime dynasty—bound by law and bullet to a woman from Moscow’s ice-hearted Volkovs. She looks at me like I murdered her family. Maybe I will. But right now, someone else is coming for us both. And if we don’t learn to trust the enemy across the bed… our bloodlines end in fire.
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