Damon Hawke wore a mask and strode inside, followed closely by Chase Quinn, who had a stern expression.
"Thomas King, you called me out of bed in the middle of the night, what's the matter?"
Henry Harris blew on the not-so-hot tea, speaking arrogantly.
"I heard that Second Uncle is planning to start his own group, congratulations in advance."
Damon Hawke sat on the mahogany chair that Chase Quinn had brought over, his straight posture exuding a natural authority.
In the Netherworld Organization, his name was Thomas King, not Damon Hawke.
Of course, aside from his mentor Andrew King, no one else knew his true identity.
"Did you call me here just to say that? If there's nothing else, I'm going back to catch up on my sleep."
Henry Harris put down his teacup, his gaze on Damon Hawke was cold.
"Second Uncle, two people have done something wrong, I hope you'll hand them over to me."
Damon Hawke's long fingers tapped the table rhythmically, his voice low.
