He let out a painful cry, his eyes closed as he passed out.
Celine rushed over and held him tightly, then turned to me, roaring:
“Bastard! How dare you kick my Liam? You want to die?!”
“I’ll add another five million! Anyone here can come up and play with him, just don’t kill him!”
My vision began to darken. In a panic, the host quickly ordered, “Untie him! If he dies, how are we going to keep playing with Ms. Alba's money?”
As the ropes loosened, I mustered all the strength I had left and lunged at Celine.
My deformed fingers dragged across the blood-soaked ground, barely managing to scratch out the first stroke of “Kris.” The pain from my severed fingers made me tremble uncontrollably.
Someone asked in confusion,
“What’s this lunatic doing?”
Celine paused in her tracks, her eyes falling to the ground.
When the incomplete “Kris” came into view, her pupils dilated in shock.
“Kris?”
I nodded desperately, tears of blood mixing with the name as they fell onto it.