He was still dressed in all black. His features were sharp and imposing to begin with, and now his entire being emanated an indescribable, aloof arrogance.
When he lowered his gaze to look at him, it was as if he were looking down on an ant.
The oppressive aura instantly intensified, his presence becoming overwhelming.
"Wh-what do you want?"
Pushing himself up with both hands, Henry Caldwell scrambled to his feet and pressed his back against the car, seeking some sense of security.
It was a scorching day, and the car had been speeding, so its body was incredibly hot. He leaned tentatively against it, not daring to press too close.
"What do you think?"
His voice was as cold and desolate as ever.
Guilt washed over Henry Caldwell, and his heart pounded frantically.
Ryder Sharp shot him a look, pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and stuck one between his lips. He cupped one hand to block the wind and lit it with the other.
