Hans's face twisted with terror as his gaze darted frantically toward the hospital room door.

"Help... somebody, help..."

He screamed for help, but his voice was so faint it was almost inaudible.

That fear of death, the helplessness, the absolute despair-it was probably the same feeling Lizetta had when she begged him for mercy last night.

Remington's icy stare fixed on him, his hand gripping Hans's nape before landing a muffled punch on Hans's abdomen.

Hans's liver was severely damaged, and he had just undergone surgery. Now, the incision was bleeding profusely.

He winced in agony, his face contorting, eyes bloodshot, his expression filled with fear and begging.

"Are you going to talk or not?"

Remington didn't let go. Instead, his fingers tightened around the wound, rubbing and grinding, as blood trickled down his fingers.

As Hans's life ebbed away, his face was streaked with tears and snot.

Even in death, no one wants to die in such torment.

His lips moved weakly, "I... I don't know who he is... I swear I don't, please..."

He was begging for a quick end.

He looked weakly towards the door. This was a hospital, after all; the police were just outside.

he shouldn't be treated

outside, it was eerily silent, with no

bruises and stiff

punched Hans's wound again with

Remington left the room, his demeanor was calm and

wipe between his fingers, meticulously cleaning

there and save

team leader peeked

on the floor, his hospital gown soaked red with blood, barely

ordered the doctors to rush in, hoist Hans

was used repeatedly, Hans coughing up

the doctor came out, declaring

to escort the involved medical staff into another room to keep them

The plainclothes leader approached,

Dashiell, rest assured,

today. Our

lid on

MS

can

And make sure you keep a close watch on the suspect. We'll need more people on this, hemust not be allowed

leader was stunned. Hans was already dead,

illusion that Hans was

couldn't keep their cool, they'd surely come to

the plainclothes officer

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