roccoschili Chapter 28 Lucas's Dying Struggle
Chapter 28 Lucas's Dying Struggle
No...not the one that's sticking out...?
He opened his mouth, wanting to question, wanting to curse, but the pain made him only able to make random "ah ah" noises!
Those eyes, wide open to their limit, were filled with extreme shock, resentment, and... the anger of being fooled.
What happened to our agreement to...discuss...a deal...?
The figure "peeking out" from behind the rock was nothing more than a tattered jacket that Tom had thrown out, used as bait hanging on a tree branch!
The steady footsteps, like the drumbeats of death, echoed from behind the higher rock above Lucas's head.
Tom slowly descended, his boots making a clear sound as they stepped on the gravel.
He walked up to Lucas with a blank expression, like a frozen rock.
He looked into Lucas's eyes, which were fixed on him, filled with resentment and bitterness.
boom! boom! boom!
The gun was aimed at the intact arm, and the remaining bullets in the cylinder were all driven into it!
Each shot caused the body to bounce violently, and blood splattered everywhere.
The sound of gunfire echoed through the canyon for a long time.
"Awooo—!!!"
A piercing scream, so mournful it was inhuman, like the dying cry of a wounded beast, ripped apart the deathly silence of the canyon night sky!
Lucas writhed wildly, like a fish nailed to a chopping board.
His wrists were a bloody mess, with bone fragments exposed, the result of being blasted apart at close range!
The excruciating pain was like a red-hot iron rod, stabbing hard into his brain and churning it repeatedly!
He suddenly raised his head, his eyes bloodshot like spider webs from extreme pain and resentment, staring intently at the rock as if he wanted to devour Tom alive!
Tom didn't even lift an eyelid.
He slowly ejected the empty cartridges from his Colt revolver, the brass casings clattering onto the cold, gravelly ground with a crisp, callous sound.
He took six brand-new brass bullets from the bullet belt at his waist, one after another, and steadily and accurately pressed them into the cylinder. With a flick of his wrist, the cylinder closed with a "click".
The cold muzzle of the gun slowly rose, steadily pointing at Lucas's violently heaving, blood-stained chest.
Tom's lips slowly curved into a cold smile, devoid of any warmth, only a chill more biting than the night wind in the canyon.
"Where is the money, the gold?" The voice wasn't loud, but it was like a dull knife cutting flesh, each word clear.
Lucas made a strange hoarse sound in his throat, glared venomously at Tom, clenched his teeth, and remained silent.
That look in his eyes was as if he wanted to devour his flesh and sleep on his skin!
boom!
boom!
The silence was met with two merciless gunshots!
Tearing through flesh, he shoved the knife deep into Lucas's thigh!
"Ah ...
Lucas was jolted upwards as if electrocuted, then slammed back to the ground with a loud "thud!" kicking up a cloud of dust mixed with blood!
The excruciating pain was like countless red-hot steel needles darting wildly through his bone marrow!
It almost made him faint, but he was forcibly pulled back by even more intense pain!
"Kill...kill me! You bastard!! Give me a quick death if you dare!!!" Lucas roared, his voice completely distorted by the excruciating pain, sweat, blood, and tears smearing his face, which was twisted and deformed by agony.
"Where is the money?" Tom's voice was completely flat, like a cold rock, repeating the fatal question.
The gun barrel slowly moved down, aiming at his other intact leg.
The only response he received was Lucas's painful, bellows-like gasps and incoherent curses.
A cold glint flashed in Tom's eyes, and he said no more.
He strode over to the body of a bandit nailed to the ground with a short knife, and with a "snip," cleanly and efficiently pulled out the hunting knife, which was covered in sticky blood.
He carried the blood-dripping dagger and walked step by step back to Lucas, who was slumped on the ground like a lump of mud.
The soles of the boots sank into the pool of blood, making a chilling "thud".
Tom hooked and flicked it hard with the tip of his boot!
"Ugh!" Lucas let out a short cry of pain as he was roughly flipped over and lay face down on the cold, dirty ground.
When Lucas struggled to turn his head and saw the dagger in Tom's hand, dripping thick blood right in front of him, all the roars and curses in his throat were instantly choked shut by an invisible hand!
All that remained were heavy, terrified gasps for breath.
"Where is the money?" Tom asked for the third time, his voice low and deep like a whisper from hell, the tip of the knife hovering over the back of Lucas's only still intact hand.
Lucas trembled violently, his lips quivering, yet he still clenched his teeth and forced out a venomous glare.
puff!
A flash of light! With a sticky, sizzling sound of flesh scraping against flesh, the cold blade pierced through Lucas's palm without any resistance!
His hand was firmly pinned to the hard ground!
"Ugh—!!!" Lucas's eyes bulged out, and a strange, choking sound came from his throat.
But this is not over yet!
Tom gripped the knife handle and twisted his wrist sharply!
Crunch-!
The sickening sound of bones and flesh grinding together filled the air!
"Ah ...
His whole body convulsed and throbbed like a fish out of water, but he couldn't break free from the knife that pinned him to the ground!
Tom leaned down, his cold lips almost touching Lucas's ear, which was soaked with cold sweat and tears. His voice was as soft as a lover's whisper, yet it carried a chill more piercing than a blade: "Where... is... the money?"
Lucas's face, due to extreme pain and blood loss, quickly faded from flushed red to a deathly ashen.
Large beads of sweat and tears of despair mingled with blood, flowing down like a stream and dripping into the blood-soaked soil beneath him.
He opened his mouth, but could only let out a weak, gasping "hoarse" sound. All his will was utterly shattered by the twisting knife.
"...Stone...stone...house..." A faint, barely audible voice, as if squeezed out with the last of its strength, finally escaped from his broken throat.
Tom expressionlessly drew his dagger, sending up a cloud of blood.
He grabbed Lucas by the back of his neck and collar like he was dragging a dead dog, mercilessly dragging his blood-soaked, still convulsing body.
It plowed a glaring bloody trail across the cold ground, dragging itself step by step toward the low stone house that resembled a tomb.
The heavy stone door creaked open on Tom's shoulder, and a smell of dust, mildew, and leather grease rushed out.
In the dim light, what came into view were stacks of sacks, wooden crates, barrels of gunpowder, scattered saddles, and neatly arranged, brand-new Winchester rifles gleaming with a cold metallic luster—it was clearly a well-equipped gang hideout!