HIS MINI BEAR
Felix's voice, normally laced with wit and arrogance, now burned with unfiltered rage.
His fists clenched around the gun, the veins in his neck bulging, his entire body vibrating with the effort to restrain himself from lunging.
And Ace— Ace stood there, calm. Detached.
The gun still rested in his hand, the barrel faintly heated up, but his expression held not an ounce of remorse.
"Ohh, please," he murmured, voice bordering on boredom. "It just passed through his skin."
With a lazy shrug, he scratched the side of his head with the slide of his gun, as though the entire ordeal had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
Bab Populer