If only Sean were around!
Then, he and Sean could each coax one lady. If Sean were around, Julian wouldn’t need to coax Betty.
All Sean needed to do was to stand right there, and tell Betty to smile. Right after that, she would definitely flash her brother her brightest smile.
Ever since Sean joined the training squad, there was no one else at home who could handle Betty.
Julian suddenly really missed his son.
Meanwhile, Sean had never felt so terrified in his life.
After he found Leonard’s dead body, he didn’t contact Oliver.
He was even seen as a suspect for Leonard’s death, and was sent into the internal police station in the training camp.
It was clear that the training camp itself was a self-sustaining society. Everything here mirrored the actual society outside.
There were policemen who banned the suspect almost immediately.
Age posed no restrictions whatsoever here.
Abilities were the most important, followed closely by one’s family background.
Nobody Sean Winnington was small in stature, with no powerful family to back him up. The moment he was treated as a suspect, he was taken away without given any chance to explain himself.
He was locked up in a small, dark room for an entire day, deprived of even a drink of water.
His lips were dry and cracked.
Sean had thought of various ways to contact Oliver, but when he finally managed to dial his number, he was notified that Oliver’s phone was switched off.
The men guarding outside eventually realized that Sean had access to connection to the outside world, and cut off his signal source.
Someone from the police station came over to interrogate Sean. “Do you admit to committing murder?”
If outsiders were to see a young boy in handcuffs being interrogated, they would probably find the scene outlandish.
However, the training camp was governed by its own set of rules.
In their law, their interrogation of Sean was reasonable. Being subject to torture was allowed, too.
Sean’s hands were still small.
The finger trap almost slipped off his hand when they tried to put it on him.
When they tried to tighten the strings, it completely fell off his fingers.
Annoyed, the interrogator said, “I’ll do it!”
He grabbed the finger trap, forced Sean’s fingers through it and tightened the strings ruthlessly.
“Ahh!” Sean yelled in pain.
His face and lips paled immediately. Beads of sweat rolled down his face.
Within mere seconds, Sean looked as if he was hauled out from a pond. He didn’t even have the energy to keep his eyes open.
The interrogator finally smiled. He crouched before Sean, the scar on his face deepened with age. Sean, who was already in a daze, saw a blur of many figures multiplied before him. The interrogator’s face looked as though it was covered with scars, like a horrific phantom in the night.
Sean felt the kind of shock that one would feel when jolted awake in the middle of the night, by a sinister figure by the bedside who was chuckling ominously.
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