Death count!!!

Marcus turned his back on Kathrine, his footsteps carrying him away from the dimly lit room.

In his room, he donned a hoodie, its fabric a shroud of darkness. With practiced efficiency, he drew the hood over his face, a shield against prying eyes.

“This is just the beginning,” he murmured to himself, his breath a mist in the air. He pocketed his keys, his fingers curling around the cold metal.

He got into his car and drove a short-distance away from the fleeing prisoner, who was sprinting towards the club with labored breath and pounding footsteps echoing through the night air. The prisoner's desperate gaze darted around the dark streets as he raced to brief his master on the latest developments and devise a plan.

Unbeknownst to the prisoner, Marcus was tailing him, keeping a discreet distance as he followed him to his destination, his eyes fixed intently on the figure ahead.

Marcus parked his car and continued following the prisoner on foot, keeping a safe distance behind him. Whe