Christian paced restlessly in his study, refilling his glass for what felt like the hundredth time. He had lost count.
A simple job—enter the estate, kidnap mother and child, and bring them to me. He'd paid them heavily, provided every resource they asked for. And yet, they failed. His money, plans, and hope? Wasted.
He emptied another full glass of vodka down his throat. Such a waste.
At least none of them were caught alive. He couldn't risk his name being dragged through the mud for associating with low-life criminals. He felt no guilt—he'd paid them enough to cover their little lives.
