With all his might, he yanked downward again, as if trying to vent the long-buried resentment in his heart through this single pull. Even though the densely packed needle tips pierced his body, sending waves of searing pain, he seemed oblivious to it. His entire being was consumed by an unrelenting hatred for Jack Thompson.
"What nonsense are you spouting? If it weren't for me, you'd have died in that godforsaken mountain village long ago! The money you have, the women, the food, the clothes—didn't I give you all of it?" Jack Thompson roared back indignantly, his voice hoarse as veins bulged on his neck. The fury on his face burned like an unquenchable fire. In his mind, Alicia Linder owed him a debt of gratitude, and such betrayal was utterly unjustifiable.
