SEARING RETRIBUTION
The interior of Lowin's Maybach was a sanctuary of leather and luxury, but the atmosphere was currently being shredded by the shrill, hysterical screams emanating from Tom's phone. Tom looked like a man facing a firing squad, his eyes brimming with tears as his wife's voice exploded through the speaker, demanding to know exactly whose bed he had slept in last night. "Honey, please, just listen!" Tom pleaded, his voice cracking. "I promise, I was at my boss's house. I wasn't partying, I just... I had a few drinks and honey? Honey, are you still there?" The line went entirely dead and the silence that followed was deafening. Tom stared at the dead screen, cursing his own stupidity for not sending a warning text before the alcohol had clouded his judgment. "Fire on the mountain?" Mark aske
- Writer
