Chapter 41

Fear knotted in Tyrone's throat as his eyes darted to the doorway of the private room.

Through it stepped a towering figure wrapped in a black trench coat, a man who looked to be in his forties.

His face carried sharp lines and a rugged edge,the slit in his left eyebrow and the thick beard giving him a dangerous sort of allure.

The sight of him sent Tyrone's legs buckling. He collapsed to the floor, his expression drainedof any hope.

This was Luis Welch, a name whispered across Oticester's underworld with growing dread.

People often remarked on two things about him -the scar-like slit in his brow and the beard that shaped his face.

Three years had been all it took for Luis to turn his small-time crew into one of Oticester's three major factions. Now the criminal world in Oticester was held in a tense three-way standoff among Curtis Howe,Leroy Graham, and Luis.

Had it not been for Curtis and Leroy forming an alliance, Luis might have taken full control of Oticester by now.

Luis's name was spoken in whispers. His reputation for cruelty and ruthless efficiency made rivals shiver.

Oddly enough,despite operating outside the law,Luis's organization stayed clear of typical rackets and vices, yet its influence ballooned.

People who dared to cross Luis soon discovered there was no forgiveness-only a swift,merciless end.

Seeing Luis intervene for these women meant they were probably more than acquaintances.They might even be his lovers or fav/orites.

Challenging anyone close to Luis bordered on suicide. Tyrone realized he was finished.

A crushing atmosphere settled over the room as Luis strode forward, menace radiating off him like heat from blacktop in July.

Out of nowhere, the man everyone feared

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