"Frank, where are you?"
Barely mustering a hint of spirit, he dialed the phone.
Just now, Julius Reed had crushed his right arm to smithereens, leaving it limp and dangling terrifyingly.
He wanted to die, but he couldn't—not now.
It was a fate worse than death, perhaps what he was experiencing at this moment.
"Iron Hoof! I'm being chased! Three of my team members are already dead, where are you?"
Frank's panicked voice came through the phone, with uneven breathing revealing his predicament.
Clearly, the Shadow Warrior was facing pursuit!
"I'm at the Moscow Style Hotel, it's very safe here. If you have nowhere to go, you can come here. Tonight, I'll arrange a boat to get you out."
As if fearing the other side might become suspicious, he added, "I want thirty million! Not a cent less!"