For a lot of people, this was a sleepless night.
Take Oliver Varley, for example.
Right now, he was locked up in some jail cell, staring at the ceiling, desperate and out of tears.
It wasn't until this moment that Oliver finally realized how over his head he'd been acting.
He wasn't some big shot "Varley"—he was just a servant's son!
A mutt who could be dealt with any damn time!
At that moment, Oliver heard someone fiddling with the cell door lock.
Someone's here to save me?
Oliver instantly got hyped up!
"You?"
Seeing clearly who it was, Oliver froze.
Victor Quinn!
Behind Victor Quinn was a skinny, grey-haired old man.
"What are you guys doing here? Here to laugh at me?" Oliver snapped.
"Nope, I don't get a kick out of that. I'm here to kill you."
Victor grinned, his tone cold and sinister.
The gentlemanly look he used to sport was all gone, replaced by ruthlessness and chill.
