Richard's lips trembled as he struggled to speak.
"Who… who set me up…?" he rasped. "Tell me… before I die… at least let me die knowing…"
The buzz-cut man paused, then looked down at him with a faint, mocking smile.
"Plenty of people want you dead," he said lazily. "Don't you have any idea yourself?"
Richard fell silent.
The man continued, almost amused, "You've been showing off your supplies on social media all day long. What, were you afraid people wouldn't notice you?"
He clicked his tongue and shook his head.
"Honestly, I don't even know how your brain works."
Even he, reckless as he was, wouldn't dare flaunt things like that so blatantly. And yet Richard had done it without a second thought.
Did he really think having a gun made him invincible?
So naive.
There was always someone stronger. Always someone more ruthless.
Regret flooded Richard's chest—but it was far too late now.
How could he have imagined he'd fall into someone else's trap so quickly?
Damn it.
