บท 213: Talking To A Picture

Marcel plopped down on his office seat, his head thrown back. He then straightens up, running his palm down his face. Everything was fucked up. How was he going to commence with his plans?

Arianna was surely going to hate his ass when she awakes; he still had no clue where Elijah was, nor his weapon; Jeremy was not giving him solid evidence; his sister was still with his father; he had an organization to run and keep away from the evil claws of his relatives. But like a domino effect, everything was slowly falling apart.

Marcel groaned, digging his hand through his hair. He felt suffocated inside as if he would explode anytime soon. Good thing, he was all alone and no one was here to piss him off and incur his wrath. Or see him losing his shit.