Outside the villa's hall, there were still sounds of police officers talking, things being moved, and the squeaky sound of glass being cleaned.
There were a lot of noises around, yet at this moment, in this place, it seemed like a different kind of dead silence had engulfed the living room.
Stone's cousin glanced at the dead gunner who still glared at him, then slowly turned his head to look elsewhere.
"Perhaps you're braver than you think?", Lance said, crossing his legs naturally resting them on his thighs.
The mockery and ridicule on his face made Stone's cousin's face look bad. He wanted to shout at Lance, "Just try it", but he was scared of the pain.
Yes, he told himself, he was afraid of pain, not of death.
Everyone will die — from gunshots, falling from a building, a fire, stabbed twice by a stranger, or possibly strangled by a noose.
Everyone will die. He wasn't afraid of the road he would inevitably have to walk down; he was just afraid of pain.
