Chapter 12 Dirk's Jealousy

• Vincent sat solemnly at the edge of the cell, his gaze fixed upon the floor. Despite his tall stature, he appeared diminished as he huddled in the corner. Once, his white suit and striped shirt would have been considered pristine, complementing his dark brown hair. However, now they were marred by bloodstains, rendering him almost ghastly in appearance. A trickle of blood ran down his forehead, staining one side of his face. His green eyes, striking against his pale features, briefly met Dirk's before darting back to the wall, a feeble attempt to appear indifferent. Dirk observed him in silence, his frown deepening as he assessed the man's wretched state.
• Without a word, Dirk entered the cell, startling Vincent, who trembled at his sudden presence. Vincent instinctively moved away, as if hoping to dissolve into the walls behind him. Dirk's frown persisted, but he remained silent, taking a moment to study Vincent's desperate countenance. Their eyes briefly connected before Vincent hastily averted his gaze, feigning nonchalance by fixating on the wall. Dirk released a slow breath through his nostrils before addressing him.
• "Well, shall we proceed?" Dirk turned to Bogo, who handed him a tablet. After a swift swipe of the screen, Dirk cleared his throat and began addressing their new prisoner. "Vincent De La Mare. Born in Sheppel, orphaned at the age of twelve due to a tragic car accident. You resided in an orphanage until the age of eighteen when you fled, subsequently immersing yourself in the underground business. Eventually, you relocated to Sturvil, where you became the trusted confidant of my adversary, Angel, or the Angel of Death, as he preferred to be known. And now, here you are, in my dungeon, battered and bloodied. It appears quite fitting, doesn't it?" Dirk glanced down at Vincent, who remained fixated on the floor, seemingly detached from his surroundings. Dirk sighed before continuing.