NOVEL NEXT Chapter 155 Have you ever seen American Iaido?_2
You're stacking buffs here! How do you expect me to question you? How dare I question you? I can't afford to provoke this, no way.
Detrov finally realized that he and Dean were simply not in the same league; he couldn't win against him.
He quickly got up, an admiring look on his face. "Detective Dean, I appreciate your cooperation. I won't disturb your rest anymore."
With that, he picked up the voice recorder and looked at the woman beside him, who hadn't spoken a word until now.
The woman nodded and finally spoke, "Detective Dean possesses immense mental fortitude. I've read the report; after surviving the explosion, he endured the effects of a concussion and still managed to kill the mastermind. This demonstrates willpower far exceeding that of an ordinary person. Based on my professional assessment and knowledge, I personally believe he doesn't require psychological counseling."
Detrov nodded, then turned off the voice recorder and smiled at Dean, explaining, "Daniel is a criminal psychology expert we've specially brought in. As per protocol, during our inquiries, we also require an expert to evaluate you."
"A very young expert," Dean said, his gaze shifting to the woman who had been scrutinizing him. With an enigmatic expression, he added, "But there's one thing you're wrong about."
"What?" Daniel asked curiously.
Dean coughed twice and took a couple of shallow breaths before saying weakly, "After the explosion, I didn't actually kill the attacker; I only shattered his limbs. We often encounter criminals high on drugs. When they're in that state, their perception of debilitating injuries and pain is dulled. Even with multiple non-critical gunshot wounds—sometimes a dozen or more—they can still fight back. That's why I often prefer .45 caliber bullets. Four of those, and he was practically a pile of mangled flesh on the ground. In that condition, I thought I could get some useful information out of him. But what he did next was beyond anything I could have imagined."
"What did he do?" Daniel asked, licking her red lips, clearly intrigued by Dean's story.
Detrov, who had just put away the voice recorder, also leaned in, his curiosity piqued.
"To protect his secrets, despite being almost completely immobilized, he managed to mutilate his own face, then used a sharp stone to slowly slit his own throat..."
Due to the sensitive nature of the case, Detrov and Daniel weren't privy to all the details. Hearing Dean describe it so vividly, Detrov smacked his lips and mused, "That guy's organization must be incredibly ruthless. He probably figured getting caught would endanger his family, driving him to such desperate measures."
Daniel clearly disagreed, retorting, "I think it's faith! A powerful belief can make someone exert strength beyond their limits, even ignore physical pain!"
"Like you?"
Dean slowly drew his gun and aimed it at Daniel. "Alright, let me see the back of your neck."
This sudden hostility caught Detrov completely off guard. One moment they're discussing the case, the next he's pulling a gun? What the hell?
"It seems I need to revise my assessment of your condition, Detective Dean!" Daniel said. Facing the dark muzzle of the gun, she calmly turned around and lifted her long hair, revealing the smooth skin on the back of her neck.
The iconic 'Source of Pain' tattoo was not there.
Dean grinned. "Ms. Daniel, thank you for your cooperation. Now, if you'd please 'remove' your clothes as well."
"You!" Daniel finally lost her composure, glaring angrily at Dean. "If you're suffering from post-combat stress and need to vent, go find a prostitute! I'm a decent woman!"
"I'm not!"
BANG! A gunshot.
The searing bullet grazed Daniel's cheek, singeing her hair and leaving the smell of burning.
This shot, which nearly took her head off, didn't just terrify Daniel. Detrov, who had thought Dean was going too far and had wanted to pluck up the courage to say something, also flinched, retreating into himself and remaining a silent observer.
Detrov quickly adjusted his priorities. Let them do whatever they want. His own skin was what mattered most. As for the unlucky Daniel and the ruthless Dean, whatever happened to them afterward was none of his damn business.
THUMP!
The hospital room door was thrown open.
Harry, his face grim, and the formidable Robert burst in, guns drawn. They had been in the adjacent room guarding the female prisoner and had rushed over immediately upon hearing the gunshot.
Both men froze, stunned by the scene before them.
Harry clearly recognized Detrov and Daniel. He looked hesitantly at Dean, who was still holding his gun, and asked, "Buddy, what's going on?"
Pulling a gun on someone from the Internal Affairs Department was no small matter.
"Another self-righteous member of the 'Source of Pain,'" Dean said. "Alright, Robert, head back and keep watching the female suspect. Harry, go stand guard outside. Keep the nurses calm and don't let hospital security in."
Dean didn't intend for Detrov to leave.
He needed a witness.
Trusting Dean, Harry and Robert holstered their guns and left the room.
Detrov tried to follow them out but was stopped by Dean. "Agent Detrov, you brought this woman here. You might get the wrong idea if you leave without seeing her true colors."
Detrov's face fell. "I'm just a minor player in all this. I've only been married two years, and I have two young children at home to feed. I have no idea what grudges you people have with each other. Please, just let me go."