Frank Mitchell's relaxed nerves immediately tensed up.
Just as the bodyguard was preparing to escape with him, they were quickly surrounded.
Expressionless men in black encircled them.
Just as the bodyguard was about to draw his pistol, the men in black all pulled out their guns and shouted, "Don't move!"
Outnumbered, they had no choice but to reluctantly put down their pistols.
Steady, rhythmic footsteps approached.
The men in black automatically stepped aside, making way.
A handsome man, who looked strikingly like Thomas Shannon, stepped forward, his cold eyes full of sharpness.
The cold breath he exuded was no less intimidating than Thomas.
In a moment, the air pressure in the vicinity dropped to its lowest point.
His cold eyes landed on Frank Mitchell's face. "Are you Frank Mitchell?"
Frank Mitchell stood in place, his back straight as an arrow, his hands by his sides clenched into fists.
