Harold Winters scoffed. "You? Offering us a chance? What could you possibly have that would help us right now?"
Ethan didn't respond immediately. Instead, he simply reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, sharp knife.
Without hesitation, he raised it to his palm and made a clean, small shallow cut.
Harold and Lillian's eyes widened in shock as a thin red line appeared across Ethan's skin, followed by a slow trickle of blood.
Lillian gasped. "What the hell are you doing?!"
Harold frowned, taking a step forward. "Are you out of your mind? If you have something to say, just say it! There's no need to bring out a knife and start hurting yourself!"
But Ethan remained unfazed by those words and he did what he had intended to do.
Reaching into his pocket again, he pulled out a small jar of white ointment. Carefully, he dipped his fingers into the salve and gently applied it to his hand on the wounded area where he made a shallow cut.
