Twins in Her Womb: Sir President, Please be Gentle by Heap Heap

Abel sat on the couch. The genuine leather couch engulfed half of his body.

He adjusted into a comfortable position and stared straight ahead at the person before him.

Gerald felt his heart race under Abel's gaze. Was he in trouble?

"Beat him," Abel suddenly spoke in Russian.

Gerald did not understand what he meant and turned to look at those men beside him. After they received Abel's command, they immediately began raining blows on Gerald.

"Stop it, stop it! I was wrong, I was wrong!" After getting beaten up so many times, Gerald instinctively crouched down and hugged his head to protect himself.

"Hit him, and hit him hard!" Abel's eyes were fierce. Even though he did not understand what Gerald said and no one was interpreting it for him, he could tell Gerald was pleading for mercy.

Half an hour later, Gerald collapsed. His face was swollen and bruised, and his limbs were covered in bruises.

Gerald was miserable, but no one begged for mercy for him. The two men who beat him dared not show any mercy. They knew if they did, they would be in trouble themselves.

Hence, they kicked him hard.

"Ugh..." Gerald gave up begging for mercy. He even felt like he might die here today.

He could not help but recall what was said during the training for the Island of Despair. It was true. If they failed their missions, they would likely face death, unless there was a turning point...

Abel watched Gerald, who was almost breathless from the beating. He tilted his head slightly, signaling his subordinates to stop.

When they received the signal, they stopped. "Kneel," commanded Abel.

Gerald heard him. It took him a while to snap out of it before he finally reacted. Then, he slowly kneeled.

"Gerald, I'm giving you another chance," Abel muttered slowly, with someone interpreting for Gerald.

Gerald let out a cold shiver. Was this the turning point they talked about?

However, could he really do it?

me your instructions," replied Gerald, suppressing the metallic taste in

the police station and this

through Gerald when he heard the words the interpreter

Kill?

killed anyone before. Despite their training, their usual orders only involved beating people. He had never

skills, how could he possibly

afraid, lifted his head. However, he was pressed down by Abel's subordinate. "Boss doesn't want to see your messed-up

he trembled even more. He lowered his head until

people," Gerald

cold sneer. He knew well the capabilities of those trained and deployed. However, there were only

time, you'll be killed. I don't have much patience left with you. You have two choices, so choose one.” Abel said, forcing Gerald to make a decision.

was either Jacob or

and clenched his teeth. "Boss, I can't die. I'll

him to Mr. Shanks," Abel commanded. He then lifted a glass of red wine and

like human blood. It sloshed with each movement and almost spilled over

nodded and proceeded to escort Gerald

arranged for a family-style apartment suite.

already smell the strong scent of blood. He listened to

men replied in unison as they carried Gerald upstairs and dropped him on the floor. One of the men said,

at Gerald. It was

to complete the task Abel had assigned

The rule on the Island of Despair was simple. If one failed to complete his task, one either ended

still chose these Caucasians to carry out

not that Shanks looked down on them. It was just that their training was far simpler compared to the killers who underwent

of the two groups was

alright for these temporarily recruited Caucasians to run errands, but was it not akin to sending them to their deaths if

the brink of disability or

of these Caucasians was not as good as those

up were always left gasping for breath, the ones from the Island of Despair were

The two men exchanged a glance before one

in the future. Either don't beat them up or don't bring them to me. I'm not here to professionally save people," said Shanks. His gaze

a few bones. But those men had deliberately avoided vital areas while