23: King of Clubs
Frank opened his eyes to see the same fire crackling strong as ever, with the same four figures ogling him like cuts of meat on auction. s**t how long had he been asleep? How much time did he have left? There were no clocks in the room, just stone and the smell of sweat. He peeled his jacket off, feeling like there was steam piping out of his ears. One more little inconvenience to pile on top of the looming catastrophe that was imminent death. And it wasn’t as if he had someone other than himself to blame, that was the worst of it. Davey was most likely dead, and even if he wasn’t he hadn’t been the one to just nod and come along with the nice lady to be herded into this box like a sheep. He hadn’t even put up a fight when the opportunity came. The fact made Frank recoil
