Desmond Scott Novels & Stories

He smirked and came over, grabbing two of the glasses. Holding them up for me, I poured a half a glass into each of them. With the bottle down and the globe closed, I took the glass from Scott and sat down in my chair. Putting my feet up on the desk, I leaned back and took a drink. The smooth bourbon made me smile and closed my eyes. “Happy birthday, Desmond.” “More like happy birthday, old man.” He laughed. “I mean, like you said, until we can beat you, we can’t say shit.”

The living room was filled with a golden glow from the television screen. The breaking news banner flashed across the bottom, repeating the same phrase over and over: DESMOND JULY ARRESTED IN SCANDAL—ABUSE, ATTEMPTED MURDER, AND KIDNAPPING EXPOSED.

I stumbled into the hallway, looking left and right, ready to hunt whoever that woman was. Suddenly, a figure appeared in front of me, stepping out from a side office as if he had been waiting. Desmond. He looked perfectly calm, his hands clasped behind his back, a smooth, oily smile on his face. "Mr. Lawson? What brings you back so suddenly? Did you forget something?" "The Scotts—are they back?" I demanded, stepping into his personal space. Desmond let out a soft, condescending chuckle. It was the sound a father makes when a child tells a ridiculous lie. "The Scotts? Mr. Lawson, really. They've been away for years so how would they be here in New York?"

"On the other hand, Desmond was stunned." "He had been treated inhumanely like a guinea pig ever since his childhood. Every part of his body had become the subject of the research of others. No one cared about his feelings at all, and no one bothered to apologize to him. Apart from Marissa, Mango was the second person who treated him like a human being. " "Desmond quickly pulled his hand back and whispered, ""You don't have to apologize to me. My body temperature is different from normal people's."""

“Not later, not conditionally.” Desmond’s eyes gleamed. “Produce the real culprit,” he said. “Bring me the resistance leader who embarrassed me, and I will end it permanently.” Jack shook his head. “That’s not good enough.” Desmond’s patience snapped. “You dare—” “I want it to stop now,” Jack repeated, his voice firm. “You can hunt the resistance without breaking your own people.” Desmond stared at him, fury rolling off him in waves. For a moment, Jack was certain he would die here, that Desmond would decide the scandal was worth the blood but then Desmond smiled.

He walked close to Desmond and grabbed his hand Desmond knew what he wanted to do but decided to act more humanly. Desmond turned and faced him with a smile plastered on his face and Nike gulp emptiness "Wow Nike, this guy is beautiful, I might just turn gay because of him" Min yung, one of Nike's friend tease "How can I help you?" Desmond asked releasing his hands from Nike's grip and sticking it in his pocket He might look handsome but I'm sure he wouldn't be selected " Nike thought, glaring at Desmond

“You, I can work with. Even admire.” “And the professor?” I asked quietly, bracing myself. Desmond’s smile faltered, just slightly. “No. I won’t kill him. Not because I like him, but because I want him to suffer. You see, he’s the one I have beef with.” There was a bitter note in his voice now. Something old. Personal. “He cost me something once. Long ago,” he said, eyes narrowing. “Something irreplaceable. He thought he was being noble. That he could take me down, expose me. But he failed. And now, watching everything he loves crumble is far more satisfying than any bullet.”

My voice trailed off as anger and disbelief mingled. Desmond leaned back slightly, his jaw tight with controlled frustration. “He actually did send someone to spy on me. Lucky for me, I ran into the guy almost immediately. One look, and I knew exactly what was happening. I didn’t even waste time—I threw my fist, and the man was out cold on the floor. Didn’t even stick around to explain. He wasn’t worth my time.” I gasped softly, the image making my chest tighten. “Desmond… that’s dangerous. What if something had happened to him? Or to you? What if—”