Forsythe looked at Luke in disbelief, then lowered his head and saw the bullet hole in his chest bleeding profusely.
After the shock and surprise, he finally felt the pain – he could not accept this reality: Luke, the coward, dared to shoot him?
Luke's ever-furrowed brow had smoothed out by now, replaced with a hideous expression and vengeful delight!
"Forsythe, does it hurt a lot?" Luke, holding his pistol, asked calmly and gently.
"Yes, yes, yes—hurry, hurry, hurry! Treat my wound! Call an ambulance! Quick!"
At this point, Luke's wife had also reacted. She furiously rushed over and shook Luke, yelling angrily:
"Look what you've done! How could you dare to shoot? You've killed us all..."
"Killed you?" Luke said calmly on the surface, but through gritted teeth, "I've endured humiliation for two years, doing whatever it takes to find clues so our lives could be better, and look what you've been doing?"
