"Ah!" Jonas screamed in agony as blood spilled from the bullet wound on his thigh. Steven had shot his broken leg."Whatever you think you're doing, stop it! Right now!" Eric ordered sternly and tried to move toward his son, but Steven pressed the other revolver to the side of his head again."You don't seem to get it, do you? Right now, I'm the one everyone should listen to because I've got the gun," Steven said coldly."If Jonas doesn't get immediate medical attention, he'd bleed to death. Let's halt whatever this is until we are certain he'd be fine," Eric gritted his teeth worriedly, glancing at his son who was writhing in pain."That is none of my business, Eric. In fact…"Steven placed both revolvers on the floor, kicked one towards Jonas, and the other to Eric's foot."Pick up the revolvers and aim them at yourselves. The first person to pull the trigger lives," he announced with a broad smile."You don't know what you're doing, Steven. Are you sure you really want to do this?"
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