But the next second, Glen Warren's gun shifted direction, the cold muzzle pressed against Nora Harrow's temple: "Is it her?"
Xavier Warren's gaze was icy cold, the hand hanging by his side unconsciously clenched into a fist: "Glen, this is between us, dragging two women into it is ridiculous, aren't you afraid of becoming a laughingstock?"
"In this world, the victor becomes king. If I win, who would dare mock me? All they'll do is curry favor."
While speaking, Glen's gun remained aimed at Nora Harrow's head, his finger gripping the trigger tighter, Xavier Warren somewhat lost control, his face full of hostility, his tone grim: "If you dare harm a single hair on her, I won't let you off!"
"Who is she? Is it her?" Glen Warren nudged the gun against Nora Harrow's temple forward, the next second he repositioned the muzzle against Eleanor Whittaker's temple: "Or her!"
