23

NO ONE POV

"Where is she?!" YangYang roared, the sound of his voice cracking through the dark like a whip.

MingQuix stared him down, her spine straight despite the tremble in her limbs. She met the rage in his eyes with a glint of her own.

"I don't know who you're talking about," she replied, forcing her voice to stay even—confident.

But his expression twisted, eyes darkening like storm clouds. His fists clenched at his sides.

"Don't fuck with me, MingQuix," he growled, stepping toward her. "Tell me where she is—and I'll let you live."

She shook her head, backing away as he stalked closer.

"Don't make me hurt you," he warned, voice dropping into a low snarl.

She scoffed bitterly. "As if you haven't already."

Something flickered across his face—guilt? Rage? Whatever it was, it vanished in an instant.

"That's because you made me do it!" he snapped. "I never wanted to hurt you—you just kept pushing me!"

"You really think that excuses anything?" she snapped, stepping between the cinema seats, trying to keep distance between them. "You beat me every time I tried to speak. Every time I asked for a shred of decency. I begged my father to call off the engagement, but he didn't care. He threw me to the wolves. To you. I've lived a nightmare beside you—and you still have the audacity to say it's my fault?"

"I hate you."

YangYang laughed—a cold, guttural sound, void of sanity.

"You hate me?" he said mockingly. "Good. I hate you too, you fucking bitch. Because of you, I couldn't marry Jasmine. My father forbade me from seeing her—said marrying you would fix me. Marrying you was supposed to save my reputation, my sanity."

He vaulted over the seats like a predator cornering its prey.

"Every time I look at you, all I feel is rage and disgust. So be a good little mutt and tell me where Jasmine is. I don't have time for your sob story."

"As if I'd ever tell you," she hissed.

She backed up, fingers sliding toward the pocket of her coat. She gripped the handle of a small knife—her last defense.

But YangYang noticed.

In a flash, he aimed and fired—BANG!

The knife clattered to the floor, her hand stinging from the impact.

MingQuix screamed and stumbled backward, falling hard between the cinema seats. Before she could scramble up, YangYang leapt over the rows and landed above her, his boots creaking against the seat backs.

"Well, well, well..." he sneered. "Look who we have here."

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her up with a savage jerk, then threw her down the stairs without hesitation.

She hit every step on the way down.

Her body tumbled and landed with a sickening thud near the front of the room.

Groaning in pain, she tried to push herself up, but her arms buckled. Her ribs ached, her head throbbed, and her vision blurred until the room spun.

YangYang sauntered down after her, slowly, deliberately.

"Ah, ah, ah..." he taunted. "Don't get up just yet."

He kicked her in the back—hard.

MingQuix gasped and collapsed forward, her forehead smacking the edge of a seat. Blood pooled at her temple as black spots danced in her eyes.

Then he crouched beside her and grabbed the front of her blouse, yanking her up so they were face to face. His eyes were hollow now—devoid of remorse, of reason.

He pulled out his gun.

Pressed the barrel against her forehead.

Cold metal. Shaking breath.

"I'll ask you one last time," he whispered. "Where. Is. She?"

MingQuix's body trembled, but her voice—when it finally came—was steady.

"Go to hell."

YangYang smirked, gun still firm against her skin. "Suit yourself."

He cocked the gun with a click that seemed to echo off the walls.

Tears streamed down her face as she clenched her eyes shut.

"Bye-bye, MingQuix," he whispered with a cruel laugh.

BANG.

A gunshot exploded through the air.
___

MIRA POV

Her lungs burned. Her legs ached. But she didn't stop.

Not when the hallways reeked of blood and gunpowder.
Not when every step revealed another body slumped, discarded like trash.
Not even when the screams and shots started again, louder—closer.

Mira gripped her gun tighter, the sweat from her palms making the handle slick. Her mind raced with too many thoughts, none of them good. Jasmine. MingQuix. Jason. Lia.

Please be alive.

A shrill echo bounced off the walls ahead. Screaming. A struggle. Her instincts screamed at her to move faster. Her boots slammed against the marble floors, turning corner after corner—until she froze.

BANG.

A gunshot.

Loud. Close. Final.

Mira's blood ran cold.

She pressed herself against the wall, chest heaving. Her fingers hovered near the trigger. Her heart pounded so violently she feared it might give her away.

No screams followed.
No footsteps.
No second shot.

Just... silence.

The kind of silence that filled a room after someone took their last breath.

She swallowed thickly, fear crawling up her spine like ice. The air suddenly felt heavier. Drenched in dread.

Who fired? Who's still breathing?

She edged closer, steps feather-light as she approached the dimly lit entrance of the cinema room.

The moonlight spilled faintly inside through tall windows, painting everything in cold silver shadows.

She stopped just outside the door, gun raised, listening.

Silence.

Until—

A soft creak.
A shift in weight.
Someone moving inside.

Her pulse surged.

She wasn't too late.
Or she was.
She didn't know which.

Taking one last breath, Mira tightened her grip around the gun, and stepped into the room.

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