Chapter 438: Lucky

With the almost-not-there amenities this town—or was it village—boasted of, Ewan couldn’t believe that his predecessor had lived here for more than six years, since handing over the gang to him, needing to live a life void of bullets, drugs, and blood.

He wouldn’t have believed it, if not that he had been in charge of records too; the old man had refused his share of profits from the business, rather diverting it to philanthropy.

All because of a woman.

Well, didn’t he, himself, leave when he got married? Ewan questioned himself, narrowing his eyes as he looked around the town.

Wearing cream-colored shorts that stopped just above his knees, a white polo, and hiking shoes, with a beach hat resting on his back, strings tied loosely around his neck, he passed easily as a tourist. And there was the camera he wore too.

That explained why he had been accosted by the locals to take pictures of their crafts, even enticed to come look at what they considered a beach around these areas.

But Ewan had refused. He had a reason to be present in this little corner of the world.

Inhaling deeply, he took a turn from the center square—with roads leading in four directions—toward the path on his left, a bushy track that would take him to the place where his old boss lived with his young wife. A woman who had killed the latter’s taste for blood and violence. A missionary.

Ewan could scarcely believe the change that had happened in the life of the older man, even now. Shaking his head as memories of the couple’s love played in his mind—moments he had been a witness to, including their marriage—he couldn’t agree more that love did commit a multitude of changes in humanity.

Locals smiled at him as he passed, their faces open and warm. He greeted them in their language, the words rolling awkwardly but kindly from his tongue.

ask him where he came from, if he had seen their rivers, their structures, their crafts. And in response, he would say yes to some, and to the others,

before the little house where the old boss lived. He hesitated to pass the little picket fence

bungalow painted yellow, with slabs of brownish red trimming the windows and doors. The roof was low, corrugated sheets shining dull under the sun. A

the fence meant for letting

the small field before the porch, he could see toys scattered about—wooden horses, a small cart—clues that let him know Kael would have younger

mused, lips quirking, referring to his old

open and two children ran out, their bare feet thumping against the wooden steps as they rushed toward the fence. They stopped short when they noticed him, their

you?" one

at the two children whom he could deduce were twins, no more than four years old. "I

out his hand for a

to a third presence. His smile widened when he saw their mother standing on the porch, hands planted firmly on her hips. She was heavily pregnant,

even waver when the woman didn’t return it.

doing here?" she asked,

old man," Ewan replied, leaving the twins behind, though not without ruffling their hair—an action to which they

to earn a scoff before she suddenly stepped forward

automatically. She had been the first person to convince him to leave the gang, and a good friend too. He dropped

you feeling?" he asked

Just the little one giving me headaches sometimes..." As she spoke, she rubbed

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