The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 973

Fitch hadn't even realized how thoroughly he'd been tamed over the course of their partnership.

The old Fitch Sherwood would never have debased himself to suck up to anyone like this.

He was a corporate CEO, after all. No matter how lucrative a deal was, he had always maintained his dignity.

But after witnessing the masked man's sheer, uncompromising ruthlessness, Fitch had developed a deep-seated fear of this immensely powerful backer.

If someone as invincible as Callahan Langley could be wiped off the map so easily, what chance did a normal businessman like Fitch have? Snuffing him out would be as easy as flicking away a bug.

The luxury car merged smoothly out of the VIP airport lane and glided into the endless river of city traffic.

Inside the cabin, it was dead silent, save for the monotonous, continuous hum of the tires against the wet asphalt.

The masked man leaned deep into the plush leather seat, as motionless as a statue.

His silver metal mask caught the passing streetlights, flashing with an intermittent, icy glare that only amplified his terrifying aura.

The suffocating silence stretched on. Finally, the masked man spoke. His voice, filtered through the voice changer, was low, steady, and utterly devoid of emotion, abruptly shattering the quiet.

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