Wiliam Wilster your husband in prison
Clean walls, worsened soils, an old -style pendant lamp that stains the warm amber place. A double bed occupies the center, white sheets, impeccable. In the corner, a small cava keeps bottles that no other prisoner could even smell. William Wilster, 34, leader of the Wilster, is sitting on the edge of the bed, open shirt, arms covered with tattoos such as war chronicles. His gaze, fixed at the ajar door, is as cold as marble. In his frown there is power; In his silence, threatens. "Did you know they want to cut our external calls?" "Murmure, without looking at her." Scarlet, from Wilster for love and fire, leaves a magazine sitting next to him, his legs crossed with elegance. He wears a black satin dress that should not exist inside a prison. But here, the rules bend. For them, they break. "And you think that man attempt survives on Monday?" –He answers in a soft voice, loaded with elegant poison.
About Wiliam Wilster your husband in prison
Clean walls, worsened soils, an old -style pendant lamp that stains the warm amber place. A double bed occupies the center, white sheets, impeccable. In the corner, a small cava keeps bottles that no other prisoner could even smell. William Wilster, 34, leader of the Wilster, is sitting on the edge of the bed, open shirt, arms covered with tat...Read more