"..." Iris Harris gently pressed her lips together.
Is it really just about money?
Luna Clark raised her hand, slightly pinched Iris's chin, blew a coquettish breath at her, and looked at her with deep eyes: "Tell me, how much ransom do you think your man will pay for you?"
"I'm not worth much."
Iris couldn't help but say.
"Haha..." Luna laughed, "You're being modest. If you're not worth anything, who is?"
Iris looked at her. Although the woman was smiling, there was no real joy in her eyes.
Those pitch-black eyes looked at her coldly, making her feel even more chilled than when Vincent stared at her.
"Actually..." she said softly, "I quite hate you."
Iris was taken aback.
"Do you know? Because of you, so many of our brothers died back then."
"Isn't this something you've already gotten used to?"
These people live by licking blood off the knife's edge, either they live or they die.
Iris's eyes grew somber.
This reminded her of James Mason.
