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When they came back to the bedroom, one of Holt's thug was looking at the bed curtains. The other one, a little far, was examining a pile of books with the tip of his boots. Hopkins choked one. Clark pulled his gun and screamed at the other.

Richard Holt took three seconds to appear, followed by Charlie Barlow and five other thugs. Wearing a fine gray suit, Holt held the pistol like a God's emissary, ready to bring death upon everything.

Hopkins pressed the gun against the thug's head.

"One more step and I'll blow his fucking head!" he screamed, choking the man.

Holt's cold eyes didn't show anything. He raised an arm and shot the guy in the head. The one under Clark's aim hesitated and Holt eliminated him too. After that, only silence. Holt smirked, adjusting his black gloves.

"Now that we solved the matter, let's talk about business, yes, Mr. Hopkins?"

With the thug's bodies lying on the floor, Hopkins swallowed dry and looked at Clark. Her green eyes were shining with fear, and he knew they were fucked up. Holt smiled and reached out a hand. "The necklace. The real one, please."

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