Desperate Press

LANDON

Landon lets out an impatient sigh, “I said show yourself, don’t make me come get you myself.”

Footsteps shuffle on the hardwood and a middle-aged man resurfaces from underneath the wine bar. His face is sweaty and crimson with panic. His hands tremble as he raises them in surrender.

Landon’s eyes glimmer with amusement, “now, who do we have here?”

His Father clears his throat. “Landon don’t bait the man. Kill him and be done with it.”

Landon’s lips twist into a sadistic smirk, “but, that’s going to take all the fun out of it, he may have some useful information.”

His Father gives him a grim look and stalks toward him, “which is exactly why you should kill him so he doesn't run his mouth, I’ll leave you to it.”

His Father’s eyes flick over the man like he’s a mere ornament before he walks out of the room.

“I- I didn't mean no harm.” the middle-aged man stutters.

An amused laugh slips past Landon’s lips, “I’m sure you didn't, can I take a look at the phone you have in your hand?”