Yesterday, 08:22 AM
(This post was last modified: Yesterday, 08:23 AM by Harry Jordan. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
(CHAPTER CONTD)
SIX MONTHS LATER
Six months changed everything.
Shanghai no longer whispered the name Michael King—it spoke it with weight.
Hemant had buried himself completely into the life of the Great Peng Shipping Company, working through sleepless nights at docks, corporate meetings, financial negotiations, and quiet backroom conversations where influence mattered more than intimidation. At first, the Triads viewed Michael King as useful. Then valuable. Eventually, indispensable. Jiu Mey personally brought him before Uncle Rey Shen on several occasions, and what began as cautious introductions evolved into long conversations over tea and strategy. Rey found something unusual in Michael: discipline. Patience. Vision. Unlike many ambitious men clawing for power, Michael never seemed desperate for it. That alone made him trustworthy.
The Great Peng Shipping Company exploded across East Asia with startling speed. Shipping routes expanded aggressively, turning a once-forgotten operation into a thriving logistics empire. Cargo moved cleaner, faster, and more efficiently than competitors. Ports in Southeast Asia began recognizing the company name. Through William’s quiet coordination and Sachiko’s rising influence abroad, Michael opened channels into the United Kingdom and the United States. Investors appeared. Partnerships formed. Soon, Great Peng wasn’t merely surviving—it was thriving internationally.
And somewhere during those six months, Hemant discovered something dangerous:
He was good at this.
Michael King became a negotiator feared and respected in equal measure. He sat across tables from men whose reputations alone unsettled governments and walked out with agreements none thought possible. His biggest triumph came when he brokered a new relationship between the Triads and the Russian Bratva—an arrangement profitable enough to shift influence across criminal and business networks alike. The move enraged the Tarasov crime family, who viewed the deal as an insult to their standing, but Michael remained unfazed. The Triads noticed who delivered results. Gradually, AZRAEL’s influence faded as Michael became the preferred business intermediary.
Meanwhile, Sun On Yee transformed Shanghai.
The 18K had suffered repeated setbacks after losing control of transport routes and the Waigaoqiao Port. District after district slowly shifted toward Sun On Yee influence until they stood dominant over much of the city’s underworld. Rey Shen openly favored Jiu Mey’s methods—strategic, calculated, profitable. That preference burned through the leadership of the 18K like acid, planting bitterness that would not disappear quietly.
Through all of it, Michael found an unexpected kind of family.
Vincent Ma remained loud, reckless, and impossible to hate. Howard Tsao became dependable, almost annoyingly practical whenever business decisions grew complicated. New recruits Sam Lin and Conroy Wu brought fresh energy to the crew, eager to prove themselves. Above them stood Ricky Tan, still leading like an older brother who would gladly bleed for every man under him. Somewhere between dangerous operations, late-night meals, and impossible situations, bonds formed stronger than anyone expected.
And Michael King?
He became the crown jewel of Sun On Yee.
Rey Shen entrusted him not only with Great Peng Shipping but also with the Triad’s legitimate business empire, including Fenghuang Energy Corporation and SilkRoute Dynamics Tech Firm. Surprisingly, Hemant found himself comfortable in those worlds. Technology discussions, engineering logistics, systems planning—it all felt familiar. Natural. He often remembered his college friend Tamanna during those moments, silently thankful that she had once fought to keep his education from falling apart. For the first time in years, parts of his old self felt useful again.
Success changed his surroundings too.
A luxurious villa in Shanghai’s wealthy outskirts became his new home—a sprawling property among celebrities, industrialists, and old-money elites. Lavish galas replaced battlefield briefings. Michael King became a recognizable presence at business events, exclusive dinners, and expensive parties where politicians and tycoons quietly competed for influence. Respect followed him everywhere. People admired his intelligence, his calm demeanor, his reputation for fixing impossible problems. In whispered conversations, many called him the backbone of the modern Triads.
Yet some nights, the mask slipped.
One evening, Howard, Ricky, and Conroy dragged him into an upscale private club after closing a successful business deal. Music thundered through dim halls while wealthy patrons disappeared behind velvet curtains for private entertainment. Michael tried to enjoy the evening, tried to laugh along with Vincent’s terrible jokes and Conroy’s endless teasing.
Then, during a private dance arranged more as celebration than temptation—A memory struck him. Dusty Rajasthan heat. The sound of rotor blades. NAL Air Base. And her face.
Kirti.
The woman he had quietly admired back when he served as a GARUDA commando and later joined SENTINEL. Her smile. The way she laughed. The strange calm she brought to his chaotic life. Suddenly, the club felt unbearable. Michael stood up without explanation and walked out.
That night, alone in his villa overlooking Shanghai’s distant skyline, Hemant lay awake staring at the ceiling. Six months. Six months since he had spoken to Dan. Six months since hearing Flight Engineer Rani complain about flight hardwares. Six months since feeling like a soldier instead of… whatever Michael King had become.
He wondered how Rajasthan looked now. Whether the base had changed. Whether Kirti still remembered him. Or if life had simply moved on. By sunrise, the decision had already settled into his bones. He would go back. Just for a little while. See what had changed.Reconnect with the people he left behind.
And maybe—Just maybe—See his favorite woman one more time.
APRIL 5TH 2005 NAL AIR BASE
The Rajasthan sun bore down on Hemant's shoulders as he walked through the gates of Nal Air Base, the familiar crunch of gravel beneath his boots triggering memories he thought he'd buried. Six Months. That's all it had been since Shanghai, since the port seizure that left his hands bloodied and his conscience fractured. Yet standing here, watching young recruits march in perfect formation across the parade grounds, it felt like lifetimes ago.
The Garuda Force had transformed since his departure. Where once they scrambled for manpower, now recruits lined up in crisp uniforms, their faces eager and unmarked by the horrors Hemant had witnessed. SENTINEL's corruption had forced him into a new world in Shanghai, but here, in this pocket of order, the machine ran smoothly. Too smoothly, he thought. As if the rot hadn't reached this far.
"Hemant!"
He turned to see Dan striding toward him, the commander's insignia gleaming on his chest. They'd served together for barely few months before Hemant's descent into the underworld of espionage, but the bond they shared was close to brotherhood.
"Been what, five months? You look like absolute hell."
Dan clasped his shoulder, grip firm and warm.
"Rough doesn't cover it." Hemant's voice came out rougher than intended.
"SENTINEL is compromised from the top. I was sent for a deep cover espionage stuff. My team and I—we're planning something different. Swift. Surgical."
Dan nodded slowly, respect flickering in his eyes.
"If anyone can clean that mess, it's you. Always been the stubborn one."
Hemant allowed himself a faint smile.
"How is everyone? The base seems.....different"
"Thanks to new recruitment, yes. Rani's got engineers lining up to help her squad. And Avinash—"
Dan's expression shifted to something like pride.
"That kid has really stepped up. Remember how green he was in Congo? Not anymore. Whatever you said to him stuck."
Congo. The mission that had nearly broken them all. Hemant pushed the memory aside.
"And Kirti?"
Dan's grin returned, wider this time, carrying that knowing edge Hemant had grown to despise.
"Still smitten, huh? Even after she turned you down?"
"My infatuation isn't the point. Where is she?"
"She is the Top ace now. Her last sortie up north had three confirmed kills. Outdid even Vishal's record"
Dan's voice carried genuine admiration.
"She's something else in the cockpit."
Pride surged through Hemant unexpectedly. Of course she is. Kirti had always been fire and steel, refusing to let anyone define her limits.
"Where is she now?"
Dan's expression flickered—something guarded slipping through.
"Gone with Vishal and some cadets. Camping trip at the national park. You remember the spot?"
The green oasis amid Rajasthan's scorched landscape. Hemant remembered. The cadets had gone there after Congo, seeking solace from trauma in shade and stillness. Only heard about it but never seen by him
"She's still with him, then."
The question hung between them. Dan shifted his weight.
"Maybe that's for the best, Hemant. Rani said it before—Kirti and Vishal make sense. Influential backgrounds. Compatible lives"
He held up a hand before Hemant could interrupt.
"I'm not saying you're not worthy. Just that—"
"I'm not from their world." Henant finished his sentence.
Hemant laughed, the sound hollow and sharp.
"Funny. Past few months, I've evolved and grown to play with power dynamics and authority. And yet still , I am not worthy somehow!"
"Well that is the point" Dan agreed quietly.
"Despite a pilot , she is in the ground and here. You on the other hand is spanning the globe with duties purpose far beyond human comprehension"
"Yeah , wanna know some of those purposes?" Hemant clasped his former partner's arm.
"Come by my place later. I'll let you know some crispy details. We'll talk properly."
He left before Dan could respond, the base's familiarity pressing against his chest like a weight he couldn't shrug.
The villa was silent when he arrived. Hemant dropped into the easy chair on his terrace, the afternoon heat pressing against his skin as exhaustion claimed him. His mind drifted, unbidden, to places he didn't want to go.
Green. That's what he imagined first. Lush grass and towering trees, water glinting under sunlight—the national park where Kirti now walked. He'd never seen it, but his mind constructed it anyway, building fantasy from fragments.
He saw cadets scattered across the landscape, laughing, splashing in crystalline water. Then his imagination pulled him deeper, into the treeline where shadows gathered thick.
Kirti stood against an ancient banyan, her shorts unbuttoned and discarded. Vishal pressed against her, their mouths locked together in a kiss that made Hemant's stomach clench.
She moaned into him, fingers raking through his hair.
"Ahh...Been waiting for this!!"
She breathed, shoving her jacket off her shoulders. Her tank top clung to curves Hemant had memorized in weaker moments. Vishal stripped with practiced ease, lean muscles shifting beneath skin—physique Hemant remembered from training drills years ago. When had he become someone worth wanting?
In his mind, they stood bare under the canopy. Vishal laid Kirti on the grass, her back arching as he positioned himself between her thighs. Hemant's imagination supplied details he'd never witnessed—the glistening evidence of her arousal, the way her hips lifted in invitation.
"I really missed your poundings" she gasped.
"Missed this tight pussy" Vishal pushed inside her, and Kirti's cry echoed through the trees.
They moved together with familiar rhythm—bodies that knew each other completely. Hemant watched from the void of his own making, invisible and aching.
"mhmm...It feels good to be buried by a powerful man"
Kirti moaned, her nails leaving red trails down Vishal's back.
"Ahh...That's why I turned down that loser.....ahhh"
"hghhh...ngghh...All show....bggghh....Nothing specialabout him huh?"
Vishal's thrusts intensified, hips snapping forward with brutal precision.
"Ahh....He is just an insecure bitch beneath all that show piece muscles!"
She wrapped her legs tighter around Vishal's waist.
"You're everything he isn't....nggghh...aahhhh!"
The words weren't real—Hemant knew this. His mind had constructed them from his deepest insecurities, giving voice to fears that haunted his darkest hours. Yet they cut deeper than any blade. Vishal drove into her relentlessly, their bodies slapping together with wet urgency. Kirti's moans climbed higher, building toward release.
"Ahh...ahhh...ahh....Take me there...ahhh..." she begged.
"Ahhh....Take me there.....Where he never could....ahh....ahhhh"
They shattered together—Vishal groaning, Kirti screaming his name as pleasure consumed them both. The vision dissolved. Hemant jolted upright in his chair, sweat soaking through his shirt. His hands trembled as he pressed them against his eyes.
Ghosts. Just ghosts.
He couldn't afford these distractions. He already has enough situations to handle in his life , so he should not focus on these things too much.
Dan arrived that evening as promised, and they sat on Hemant's terrace watching the sun bleed orange across the horizon. Tea steamed between them, and Hemant found himself recounting stories he'd held close to his chest for weeks—those final dangerous missions he did with SENTINEL, the infiltration of the Triads, his partnership with SunOnYee, the delicate dance of playing a shipping magnate while plotting revolution.
"The port seizure was a testament of my position among them"
Hemant explained, turning his cup in his hands.
"And now I am an important executive , the backbone of their business. Was surprised to find actual good humans who want to do good in their nasty world!"
Dan listened with rapt attention, his commander's insignia catching the dying light.
"And this Sifu Kwok? The Shaolin master?"
"Ricky Tan introduced us. Uncle Sifu got a liking towards me since he noticed my Kalari skills. Old man was very knowledgable , understands the deep rooted connection between the two art forms!"
Hemant chuckled, the sound genuine.
"Spent weeks learning Kung Fu forms. He insinuated my warrior spirit. Balance and control—that's what he emphasized."
They talked until dinner, the conversation flowing easily between war stories and comfortable silences. After Dan left for the base, Hemant slept dreamlessly, his mind finally granting him the rest he desperately needed.
The nightmare didn't haunt him.
(CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)
Six months changed everything.
Shanghai no longer whispered the name Michael King—it spoke it with weight.
Hemant had buried himself completely into the life of the Great Peng Shipping Company, working through sleepless nights at docks, corporate meetings, financial negotiations, and quiet backroom conversations where influence mattered more than intimidation. At first, the Triads viewed Michael King as useful. Then valuable. Eventually, indispensable. Jiu Mey personally brought him before Uncle Rey Shen on several occasions, and what began as cautious introductions evolved into long conversations over tea and strategy. Rey found something unusual in Michael: discipline. Patience. Vision. Unlike many ambitious men clawing for power, Michael never seemed desperate for it. That alone made him trustworthy.
The Great Peng Shipping Company exploded across East Asia with startling speed. Shipping routes expanded aggressively, turning a once-forgotten operation into a thriving logistics empire. Cargo moved cleaner, faster, and more efficiently than competitors. Ports in Southeast Asia began recognizing the company name. Through William’s quiet coordination and Sachiko’s rising influence abroad, Michael opened channels into the United Kingdom and the United States. Investors appeared. Partnerships formed. Soon, Great Peng wasn’t merely surviving—it was thriving internationally.
And somewhere during those six months, Hemant discovered something dangerous:
He was good at this.
Michael King became a negotiator feared and respected in equal measure. He sat across tables from men whose reputations alone unsettled governments and walked out with agreements none thought possible. His biggest triumph came when he brokered a new relationship between the Triads and the Russian Bratva—an arrangement profitable enough to shift influence across criminal and business networks alike. The move enraged the Tarasov crime family, who viewed the deal as an insult to their standing, but Michael remained unfazed. The Triads noticed who delivered results. Gradually, AZRAEL’s influence faded as Michael became the preferred business intermediary.
Meanwhile, Sun On Yee transformed Shanghai.
The 18K had suffered repeated setbacks after losing control of transport routes and the Waigaoqiao Port. District after district slowly shifted toward Sun On Yee influence until they stood dominant over much of the city’s underworld. Rey Shen openly favored Jiu Mey’s methods—strategic, calculated, profitable. That preference burned through the leadership of the 18K like acid, planting bitterness that would not disappear quietly.
Through all of it, Michael found an unexpected kind of family.
Vincent Ma remained loud, reckless, and impossible to hate. Howard Tsao became dependable, almost annoyingly practical whenever business decisions grew complicated. New recruits Sam Lin and Conroy Wu brought fresh energy to the crew, eager to prove themselves. Above them stood Ricky Tan, still leading like an older brother who would gladly bleed for every man under him. Somewhere between dangerous operations, late-night meals, and impossible situations, bonds formed stronger than anyone expected.
And Michael King?
He became the crown jewel of Sun On Yee.
Rey Shen entrusted him not only with Great Peng Shipping but also with the Triad’s legitimate business empire, including Fenghuang Energy Corporation and SilkRoute Dynamics Tech Firm. Surprisingly, Hemant found himself comfortable in those worlds. Technology discussions, engineering logistics, systems planning—it all felt familiar. Natural. He often remembered his college friend Tamanna during those moments, silently thankful that she had once fought to keep his education from falling apart. For the first time in years, parts of his old self felt useful again.
Success changed his surroundings too.
A luxurious villa in Shanghai’s wealthy outskirts became his new home—a sprawling property among celebrities, industrialists, and old-money elites. Lavish galas replaced battlefield briefings. Michael King became a recognizable presence at business events, exclusive dinners, and expensive parties where politicians and tycoons quietly competed for influence. Respect followed him everywhere. People admired his intelligence, his calm demeanor, his reputation for fixing impossible problems. In whispered conversations, many called him the backbone of the modern Triads.
Yet some nights, the mask slipped.
One evening, Howard, Ricky, and Conroy dragged him into an upscale private club after closing a successful business deal. Music thundered through dim halls while wealthy patrons disappeared behind velvet curtains for private entertainment. Michael tried to enjoy the evening, tried to laugh along with Vincent’s terrible jokes and Conroy’s endless teasing.
Then, during a private dance arranged more as celebration than temptation—A memory struck him. Dusty Rajasthan heat. The sound of rotor blades. NAL Air Base. And her face.
Kirti.
The woman he had quietly admired back when he served as a GARUDA commando and later joined SENTINEL. Her smile. The way she laughed. The strange calm she brought to his chaotic life. Suddenly, the club felt unbearable. Michael stood up without explanation and walked out.
That night, alone in his villa overlooking Shanghai’s distant skyline, Hemant lay awake staring at the ceiling. Six months. Six months since he had spoken to Dan. Six months since hearing Flight Engineer Rani complain about flight hardwares. Six months since feeling like a soldier instead of… whatever Michael King had become.
He wondered how Rajasthan looked now. Whether the base had changed. Whether Kirti still remembered him. Or if life had simply moved on. By sunrise, the decision had already settled into his bones. He would go back. Just for a little while. See what had changed.Reconnect with the people he left behind.
And maybe—Just maybe—See his favorite woman one more time.
APRIL 5TH 2005 NAL AIR BASE
The Rajasthan sun bore down on Hemant's shoulders as he walked through the gates of Nal Air Base, the familiar crunch of gravel beneath his boots triggering memories he thought he'd buried. Six Months. That's all it had been since Shanghai, since the port seizure that left his hands bloodied and his conscience fractured. Yet standing here, watching young recruits march in perfect formation across the parade grounds, it felt like lifetimes ago.
The Garuda Force had transformed since his departure. Where once they scrambled for manpower, now recruits lined up in crisp uniforms, their faces eager and unmarked by the horrors Hemant had witnessed. SENTINEL's corruption had forced him into a new world in Shanghai, but here, in this pocket of order, the machine ran smoothly. Too smoothly, he thought. As if the rot hadn't reached this far.
"Hemant!"
He turned to see Dan striding toward him, the commander's insignia gleaming on his chest. They'd served together for barely few months before Hemant's descent into the underworld of espionage, but the bond they shared was close to brotherhood.
"Been what, five months? You look like absolute hell."
Dan clasped his shoulder, grip firm and warm.
"Rough doesn't cover it." Hemant's voice came out rougher than intended.
"SENTINEL is compromised from the top. I was sent for a deep cover espionage stuff. My team and I—we're planning something different. Swift. Surgical."
Dan nodded slowly, respect flickering in his eyes.
"If anyone can clean that mess, it's you. Always been the stubborn one."
Hemant allowed himself a faint smile.
"How is everyone? The base seems.....different"
"Thanks to new recruitment, yes. Rani's got engineers lining up to help her squad. And Avinash—"
Dan's expression shifted to something like pride.
"That kid has really stepped up. Remember how green he was in Congo? Not anymore. Whatever you said to him stuck."
Congo. The mission that had nearly broken them all. Hemant pushed the memory aside.
"And Kirti?"
Dan's grin returned, wider this time, carrying that knowing edge Hemant had grown to despise.
"Still smitten, huh? Even after she turned you down?"
"My infatuation isn't the point. Where is she?"
"She is the Top ace now. Her last sortie up north had three confirmed kills. Outdid even Vishal's record"
Dan's voice carried genuine admiration.
"She's something else in the cockpit."
Pride surged through Hemant unexpectedly. Of course she is. Kirti had always been fire and steel, refusing to let anyone define her limits.
"Where is she now?"
Dan's expression flickered—something guarded slipping through.
"Gone with Vishal and some cadets. Camping trip at the national park. You remember the spot?"
The green oasis amid Rajasthan's scorched landscape. Hemant remembered. The cadets had gone there after Congo, seeking solace from trauma in shade and stillness. Only heard about it but never seen by him
"She's still with him, then."
The question hung between them. Dan shifted his weight.
"Maybe that's for the best, Hemant. Rani said it before—Kirti and Vishal make sense. Influential backgrounds. Compatible lives"
He held up a hand before Hemant could interrupt.
"I'm not saying you're not worthy. Just that—"
"I'm not from their world." Henant finished his sentence.
Hemant laughed, the sound hollow and sharp.
"Funny. Past few months, I've evolved and grown to play with power dynamics and authority. And yet still , I am not worthy somehow!"
"Well that is the point" Dan agreed quietly.
"Despite a pilot , she is in the ground and here. You on the other hand is spanning the globe with duties purpose far beyond human comprehension"
"Yeah , wanna know some of those purposes?" Hemant clasped his former partner's arm.
"Come by my place later. I'll let you know some crispy details. We'll talk properly."
He left before Dan could respond, the base's familiarity pressing against his chest like a weight he couldn't shrug.
The villa was silent when he arrived. Hemant dropped into the easy chair on his terrace, the afternoon heat pressing against his skin as exhaustion claimed him. His mind drifted, unbidden, to places he didn't want to go.
Green. That's what he imagined first. Lush grass and towering trees, water glinting under sunlight—the national park where Kirti now walked. He'd never seen it, but his mind constructed it anyway, building fantasy from fragments.
He saw cadets scattered across the landscape, laughing, splashing in crystalline water. Then his imagination pulled him deeper, into the treeline where shadows gathered thick.
Kirti stood against an ancient banyan, her shorts unbuttoned and discarded. Vishal pressed against her, their mouths locked together in a kiss that made Hemant's stomach clench.
She moaned into him, fingers raking through his hair.
"Ahh...Been waiting for this!!"
She breathed, shoving her jacket off her shoulders. Her tank top clung to curves Hemant had memorized in weaker moments. Vishal stripped with practiced ease, lean muscles shifting beneath skin—physique Hemant remembered from training drills years ago. When had he become someone worth wanting?
In his mind, they stood bare under the canopy. Vishal laid Kirti on the grass, her back arching as he positioned himself between her thighs. Hemant's imagination supplied details he'd never witnessed—the glistening evidence of her arousal, the way her hips lifted in invitation.
"I really missed your poundings" she gasped.
"Missed this tight pussy" Vishal pushed inside her, and Kirti's cry echoed through the trees.
They moved together with familiar rhythm—bodies that knew each other completely. Hemant watched from the void of his own making, invisible and aching.
"mhmm...It feels good to be buried by a powerful man"
Kirti moaned, her nails leaving red trails down Vishal's back.
"Ahh...That's why I turned down that loser.....ahhh"
"hghhh...ngghh...All show....bggghh....Nothing specialabout him huh?"
Vishal's thrusts intensified, hips snapping forward with brutal precision.
"Ahh....He is just an insecure bitch beneath all that show piece muscles!"
She wrapped her legs tighter around Vishal's waist.
"You're everything he isn't....nggghh...aahhhh!"
The words weren't real—Hemant knew this. His mind had constructed them from his deepest insecurities, giving voice to fears that haunted his darkest hours. Yet they cut deeper than any blade. Vishal drove into her relentlessly, their bodies slapping together with wet urgency. Kirti's moans climbed higher, building toward release.
"Ahh...ahhh...ahh....Take me there...ahhh..." she begged.
"Ahhh....Take me there.....Where he never could....ahh....ahhhh"
They shattered together—Vishal groaning, Kirti screaming his name as pleasure consumed them both. The vision dissolved. Hemant jolted upright in his chair, sweat soaking through his shirt. His hands trembled as he pressed them against his eyes.
Ghosts. Just ghosts.
He couldn't afford these distractions. He already has enough situations to handle in his life , so he should not focus on these things too much.
Dan arrived that evening as promised, and they sat on Hemant's terrace watching the sun bleed orange across the horizon. Tea steamed between them, and Hemant found himself recounting stories he'd held close to his chest for weeks—those final dangerous missions he did with SENTINEL, the infiltration of the Triads, his partnership with SunOnYee, the delicate dance of playing a shipping magnate while plotting revolution.
"The port seizure was a testament of my position among them"
Hemant explained, turning his cup in his hands.
"And now I am an important executive , the backbone of their business. Was surprised to find actual good humans who want to do good in their nasty world!"
Dan listened with rapt attention, his commander's insignia catching the dying light.
"And this Sifu Kwok? The Shaolin master?"
"Ricky Tan introduced us. Uncle Sifu got a liking towards me since he noticed my Kalari skills. Old man was very knowledgable , understands the deep rooted connection between the two art forms!"
Hemant chuckled, the sound genuine.
"Spent weeks learning Kung Fu forms. He insinuated my warrior spirit. Balance and control—that's what he emphasized."
They talked until dinner, the conversation flowing easily between war stories and comfortable silences. After Dan left for the base, Hemant slept dreamlessly, his mind finally granting him the rest he desperately needed.
The nightmare didn't haunt him.
(CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)