After finishing their words, there was a burst of laughter in the room.
My trembling became more intense.
I asked in a hoarse voice, "Was it fun?"
I looked up and looked at their faces with hatred, wishing to kill them.
Joe stopped what he was doing.
"What did you just say?"
I clenched my teeth and said word by word, "I said, in my name, you deceived my brother into the underground city and watched him being beaten by the thugs. Is it fun?"
...
When my brother was drugged and thrown into the underground city while he was unconscious, they cold-bloodedly watched him being beaten into a pulp.
At that time, my brother, because of the lingering effects of the drugs, was weak all over. He could only watch himself being tortured without fighting back.
As the buyers, they could have demanded the underground city to ensure my brother's safety before he regained consciousness, but they were unwilling to make such a request.
When I received the news of my brother's death and rushed over, he was covered in bruises, lying limp in my arms like a rag.
I cried until I lost my voice, but he would never come back.
I had been with Joe for five years, and I knew he was a playful person.