CHAPTER 49

  The half naked man paced around his bedroom, a thoughtful look etched on his face as his reflection flitted consecutively across the full length mirror in the room. The only piece of clothing on him, other than the roll of bandage wrapped around his shoulder and upper arm was his black drawstring trouser.

  He ran a hand, his left hand, through his sable black hair as he heaved a frustrated sigh. He didn't know what to do. Roughly shoving his injured and bandaged arm into his pants pocket, he winced at the sharp impact before the pain slowly eased up and his tensed shoulders relaxed.

  If it had been like every other day, Jordan knew that he would currently be in his bath stall, trying to scrub away every splatter of blood that had gotten on him during his killing spree. He knew that every other day, the entire Timos would've all been crawling their way down the pits of hell to serve the devil.