Marcus held his bleeding arm as he angrily kicked open the door of the safe house. He was like an angry wounded animal, attacking everyone around him.
Three men who tried to help the bleeding in his arm were killed by him. Marcus was angry, and rightfully so.
He risked his life and even went on a half-assed whim to get Sarah back under control, who would have known it was useless and the man he sent was killed.
“Damn him!” Marcus sneered as he stomped upstairs to his study, holding his bleeding arm. He opened his study door and made a beeline for the whiskey.
Pulling out the muzzle of the glass bottle made a ‘gong’ sound, he then poured out the brown liquid into a glass.
He ripped off his shirt sleeve and poured the whiskey in the glass onto his wound, only making a soft hiss when the
