He looked at Alonso, his eyes filled with fear, despair, and disbelief.
So, Alonso wasn't helping him.
Alonso was pushing him into the abyss in the most dignified, yet most cruel, way possible.
Making him walk toward his own destruction.
Making his death seem uneventful, a matter of course.
Tears streamed down Pittman's face.
He struggled desperately, trying to break free from the invisible force sealing his mouth. He wanted to scream "No," to beg, to kneel and kowtow.
But he couldn't move.
He couldn't utter a single word.
Alonso watched him, a faint smile on his face.
It was the exact same smile he wore when Pittman had humiliated him moments ago.
"Fine," Murphy's voice was calm. "As you wish."
Hearing this, Alonso's heart skipped a beat.
'It worked.'
'It really worked.'
He suppressed the wild joy in his heart, bowed deeply, and spoke with a reverent, pious voice:
"Thank you, My Lord."
Murphy looked at him and continued:
"Now, it is time for you to pay the price."
