"Let me go!"
Ms. Tina struggled desperately, her shrill voice thick with palpable terror.
"Release me—let me go!"
The two mercenaries' hands clamped around her like iron vices, unmoved by her frantic efforts as they dragged her toward the spiked wall.
Ms. Tina's eyes nearly bulged from their sockets at the sight before her—the wall of gleaming metal spikes, cold and reeking of blood.
"President Luther, I beg you—spare me!"
she pleaded, tears streaming down her face.
"I had nothing to do with what happened to Madam, I swear it wasn't me!"
Camilla watched Ms. Tina, her delicate brows furrowed slightly.
What did the mastermind behind this woman offer her?
Or rather—what leverage did they hold over her?
How could she still grit her teeth and hold out, even in a moment like this?
"Is that so?"
Sinclair arched an eyebrow, his long, narrow eyes as cold and sharp as ice.
"Then tell me, who's involved?"
