Jonneth's hand shook as he reached into his pocket.
His expression changed after he made the call.
Nathan frowned, sensing that something had gone awry.
“Tell your men to bring Thomas to us. No games. If anything happens to him, you will suffer the same fate,” Colin warned Jonneth.
Jonneth turned his bruised and battered face to gaze at them. “My men informed me that Mr. Dean had picked Thomas up half an hour ago.”
“Mr. Dean?” Nathan repeated. “Who is Mr. Dean?”
Jonneth hesitated.
Nathan's eyes narrowed. “You seem to be keeping a lot of things from me.”
He then turned to Colin and ordered, “Make him talk, Colin.”
“Yes, General!”
Nathan exited the office and sat on a bench in a corridor while he savored another cigarette.
From within, Jonneth's pleas rose to screams before gradually becoming weaker and more inaudible.
Not long after that, Colin led the Elite Eight out.
“Mr. Cross.”
Nathan looked up. “What else have you discovered?”
“Someone set Thomas up,” Colin said simply.
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