There was no silencer on the gun. From the moment the shot rang out, the old man knew something terrible had happened, but he didn't have time to stop it. All he could do was watch helplessly as his granddaughter personally killed Nathan Firth.
When Nathan Firth collapsed to the floor, the old man felt his mind buzzing uncontrollably.
The scorching blood ripped open his memories, making him stagger. He always felt he owed something to Nathan's grandfather, and after raising Nathan for so many years, he had basically treated the boy as his own grandson. How could he just stand by and watch tragedy repeat itself? He turned toward Northmount and roared, "Send him to the hospital—now!"
*
*
One month later.
On a cold winter afternoon, sunlight shone through the windows, casting a layer of warmth over the otherwise frigid air.
