"Ahh… it's worn off," he said with a laugh, his tone almost gleeful as he watched Kai twist and convulse in pain.
For a few minutes, he stood there watching, basking in the suffering like it was the finale of a well-performed show.
Eventually, the thrill of watching Kia's pain wore off.
The leader stood in silence for a moment, watching Kai's broken, twitching body. Blood still poured from his face, his fingertips, his feet. His chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow breaths, clinging to life by the thinnest thread. But there was no satisfaction left in it again, ot had started to look too old.
With a fluid, almost casual motion, the leader slipped a gun from the inner pocket of his coat.
It happened so fast.
One second his hands were empty, and the next—a sleek black pistol gleamed in his grip. The movement was so quick, so fluid, that for a heartbeat everyone just stood frozen, staring in stunned silence.
He pointed the barrel squarely at Kai's ruined body.
