They went to a quieter area. Horace was still shaking all over.
John offered him a cigarette and lit it up for him. He drew a deep breath and said, "I tried my best today..."
"I know it's not your fault. It was that fucker Isaac," Horace said through gritted teeth.
After thinking for a long while, John said hesitantly, "About Isaac, I'd advise you not to mess with him any longer..."
Horace looked up and glared at John with red eyes. He growled, "I am 55 years old this year, and Wilson was my only son. He's dead now because of Isaac. Would you not want to avenge your son's death if this happened to you?"
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