"How about we make a deal?"
Kruger halted in his steps, gaze as piercingly cold as icy blades.
Silence hung as the two men studied each other.
Not a wind brushed by the hem of their trousers, the stillness suffocating.
The wound left behind after Thanh Van had bit off Kruger's ear had crusted over in a jagged mess. Bits and pieces of skin hung where his earlobe had once been. The blood stained the white cotton shirt, a dark crimson batch over his right shoulder extending right down to his waist.
Kruger seemed to have aged by a decade. Deep, unforgiving lines edged between his brows.
Thanh Van felt almost regretful for being so cruel - almost. He did get choked.
When Kruger didn't answer his proposal or even question it, Thanh Van said,
"If you tell me the reason behind insisting that the archbishop is alive," Thanh Van smiled as he saw Kruger's muscles tighten like a tiger a second before it bounced. "I might tell you what or who I really am."
