Buried Betrayal on Eight Hundred Acres 34

the room, followed by the man himself. He walks in, and the temperature in the room seems to plummet.

Perfect. Expensive. Cold.

Nicolás Herrera enters my nightmare wearing his pristine white coat like a king’s mantle. His dark hair is perfectly styled, defying the frantic nature of an emergency call. His jaw is clean-shaven, hard as granite, and the continue reading …