Charles Red Dead Novels & Stories

Charles quickly sends a photo of a very obese naked man holding a bunch of dollar bills. Me: You sent that WAY too fast, sicko. Charles: hahahaha you know I have an arsenal of photos like that just for you. Me: I don’t doubt it. I put the phone down and go back to my book, writing a few more sentences before Charles texts me again. Charles: Just listened. Who did you run into?

Orders placed—minimal, controlled. Only when the table settled did Charles lean back, studying me. Not entirely professionally. His eyes held quiet hunger, the kind that wanted to pull me closer, to test if my composure would crack under his attention. “You’re adapting quickly,” he said. “To what?” “To pressure.” A pause. “Or to him?” There it was. Not subtle. “Reid operates efficiently,” I replied. “That’s what you’re seeing.” Charles’s gaze didn’t waver. “And the living arrangement?”

Alex managed a faint smile. He had changed from his usual uniform to an Italian royal blue suit and a inner white shirt that pressed neatly on his abs and muscular body. His long tinted wavy hair hung losely behind his neck as he threw a wide smile that spread his black trimmed beards a little to the corners of his cheeks. Charles was popular for his charm and looks, aside for his intimidating strength. “What pack launched the attack?, Charles asked curiously as he fell to the sofa chair. “I can't believe any rogue would dare lay hands on you, of all the pack members in the region”

Anna laughed. "No such thing?" Arching an eyebrow in challenge, he mimed holding a phone to his ear. "Yeah, Charlie, this is Dave. I just won two tickets to the Super Bowl. You and I are going to be on the fifty-yard line eating hot dogs and drinking Bud. You said it, pal. Awesome!" This time, his mid-western accent was spot-on, and Anna dissolved into giggles. "Is it tha' bad?" Angus asked.

"Why?" "I have too many businesses at hand to handle so you can keep running the company and bringing me profits." They came to a conclusion and they shook hands. Erin noticed the scars on hand as his sleeve moved up a bit. He seemed bothered that she had seen it but then left. Immediately, she put a call through to Blain. Dude picked up on the first ring. "Did you find anything?" She asked impatiently. "Yes ma'am. Charlie Cox, popularly known as Red Bull. He's a Mafia and also serves as a broker."

Not their team. Charles Vanderbilt appeared at the end of the hallway, disheveled, his face a mask of apocalyptic rage. He held a sleek, small handgun. He didn’t raise it with the security team. Or at Liam. He aimed it directly at Elara. “You couldn’t just leave,” he spat, the civilized facade gone, leaving only the feral, cornered animal beneath. “You had to burn it all down.”

Samuel muttered, "You don't need to know why. Just know that I don't love Whitney." … Ingrid's First-Person Point of View My guess was right. The one who had asked to see me was indeed Charles. From what I knew, he had moved to Grisdale after retiring from the military. When had he returned to Darniva? And why did he want to see me? On the rooftop terrace, Charles sat across from me at a long table. His complexion was pale, and his bangs fell across his forehead. He was wearing a white shirt with his tie loosened.

But to my surprise, as Scarlett was leaving the ER, she ran into Aidan Palmer, the deputy director of the hospital. She burst into tears, telling him that I wasn't at my post and nearly caused the patient's death. Scarlett, with Aidan in tow, barged into my office without even knocking. Clearly, she couldn't be bothered to play nice anymore. When they came in, I was sitting at my desk, sorting through patient charts. Scarlett wiped her tears and pointed at me. "Dr. Palmer, look! We're swamped in the ER, yet Dr. Garrison is just sitting here doing nothing. If it weren't for his laziness and negligence, we wouldn't have come so close to a medical accident."

Charlie greets once she opens the door. Two average-sized men on police uniforms nod their heads in apprehension. Charlie waits for them to finish shaking off snow from their boots before stepping in. The first thing Charlie notices is the lack of guns in its holsters. She rolls her eyes with a sigh. Of course, what'd she expected? The slightly taller one with a mustache pulls out a small notepad from his breast pocket, "Good day, I'm Officer Bradford and this is my partner, Officer George," he says, pointing to his partner.

The conversation around me blurred into background noise as I recalled that. In an attempt to refocus, I forced myself to chime in with a light-hearted comment about their stories, but my mind lingered on the unresolved tension between Charles and Tysha. Charles, the guy with a reputation that precedes him. He's the kind who sails through relationships like they're a breeze. Known for targeting hard-to-get girls, he's like Rij, but with an extra layer of unpredictability. While Rij revels in the chase, Charles thrives on the capture.