If it wasn’t him, then who? I’m confident that Ezekiel was behind our signal—blocking us, but what the hell? Is there a more powerful organization aside from Ezekiel’s organization?
“What do you f*****g mean?” I questioned him angrily. Everything about him confused me, and I don’t get him—I don’t.
Ezekiel combed his hair using his fingertips without breaking our eye contact as we heard a creak, indicating that someone was opening the door.
“Greetings, Mister Traviesco,” a familiar voice greeted this man as I heard her shut the door.
I didn’t glimpse at the woman who entered his office, disturbing us while we were still talking. If it was about his meal, he still should eat—I don’t mind that as long as we were talking—answering my questions. But if he ignored me and acted as if nothing
