Adonis Lazarus, son of Marco Lazarus, has grown up with the life everyone has craved. Rich, spoilt, and extremely good-looking, Adonis Lazarus isn't missing anything in life.
At least he thought so.
When his father sets him out on a mission to tak...
WHEREAS Mirabelle Williams was busy running her care center on one side of the city, Adonis Lazarus was out on the other side with a knife in his hand as he heard the wails of his captive.
He was leaning against a dainty car as his father's men broke down the man they had kidnapped. They had been at it since the sun went down, meaning Adonis had been here for five long hours. He was here to supervise them.
And he was bored out of his fucking mind.
He couldn't hear the cries of the man, as his brain always chose to block out the sounds of pain coming from others. Instead, he chose to play with his favorite knife in his hands.
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It was a present he had gotten from his father on his 15th birthday, the first in years, and he always carried it with him since. As he twisted it around in his hands, he noticed that the edge of the handle had started to lose a bit of its color. He stopped playing with it and brought it close to his face, trying to see if the edges had frayed at all.
As Adonis inspected the knife, one of his father's men came stalking up to him in a hurry.
"Boss," the young boy called.
Adonis merely looked up, boredom showcasing through his posture. However, his eyes were alert, like they were taught to be.
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"He isn't spilling anything. It seems like no one wants to speak about that place," the boy said, sounding out of breath.
Adonis did not give away anything. He stayed silent, only clicking his tongue a little. Before he could speak up, another boy came from behind the standing one, with an angry glare etched on his face and his clothes disheveled.
"How the hell does that fucking druggie, a loyal piece of garbage for 4 years, go into that place for two months, and come out looking like a new man?!" the older boy said, grabbing at his hair in frustration.
