"Please spare me. I am willing to leave New York. I swear to God that as long as you let me off today, I will never return to New York again."
"Didn't Aren say that he doesn't want to see me in New York? I can guarantee that I won't appear in front of Aren for the rest of my life. Please let me off."
Miles knelt and crawled up to Luke, looking at him pleadingly. If his hands weren't still tied behind his back, he might have been hugging Luke's legs by now.
Looking at Miles, who was kneeling at his feet like a dog begging for pity, Luke said coldly, "That won't do."
"Master Aren will be very unhappy with me for letting you off so easily. But don't worry, I won't kill you."
As if having just entered heaven from hell, Miles's gloomy eyes lit up, and his tense body relaxed upon knowing that he wouldn't die.
"Thank you, you're such a good person. God will bless you."
Hearing that, Luke sneered.
A good person? Was he?