Playboy Billionaire
Page 71
“INTHEORY?!” We have ten seconds left before this thing blows up in our fucking faces, and he knows how to diffuse it intheory. I trusted him without even asking if he knew what the fuck he was doing. Because why the fuck would someone attempt to diffuse a fucking bomb without knowing how to do it? Seems pretty idiotic to me!
Now, this clock literally represents how long we have left of our purposeless lives, and he’s still trying to diffuse it without even asking me for help? If we die, and we most likely will, then at least I can say it wasn’t my fucking fault.
Five.
Four.
I close my eyes and prepare for impact. The last thing on my mind is Stella. Her eyes, smile, skin, laugh, passions, talents, and life left to live without me.
Three.
Two.
See you in hell, Jack Beys.