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Summary
“I should be ahead,” He pants, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. “Ahead. Stronger. Better. Who cares if you’re older by a few years? I’m number twenty-fucking-two,”
He bites, gesturing on the number on his shirt.
Eric glances up at his opponent, the small font reading ‘24’ across the other’s chest.
Any semblance of camaraderie for this person has long been willed away from his features.
No, this wasn’t a person.
He was a target.
His target.
Series
- Part 1 of lost dreams