Chapter 28

From Lingling's Perspective 🖤🐅

I was halfway through unbuttoning my blazer, pacing slowly across the suite as Jiang stood by the window, still reporting about the cleanup after the explosion. My mind was running through the chain of events like clockwork—timed detonation, no casualties, every trace of my fingerprints scrubbed off.

"You're officially on every watchlist," Jiang muttered, almost amused, "but no one can tie it back to you."

"That's the point," I replied flatly, shrugging the blazer off and letting it hang over the back of the couch. My body ached, but the adrenaline kept me focused. We're almost there, I thought. One final piece to move, and I could go back to—

Buzz.

A single vibration broke the rhythm of our debriefing. It came from the small table beside the liquor cabinet. My burner. The only line that wasn't constantly traced, tapped, or surveilled.

I narrowed my eyes.

I don't get texts on this phone. Not unless something went wrong.

I crossed the room in two strides, picked it up.

One message. No name. No contact. Just coordinates... and a timestamp.

Jiang noticed the shift in my posture instantly.

"What is it?" he asked, voice dropping.

I didn't answer right away. My thumb hovered over the screen, jaw clenched. I recognized the pattern. This wasn't just a ping—it was an alert from one of my shadows in Bangkok. A direct trigger.

My chest tightened.

It wasn't Orm texting.

It wasn't even one of my usual men.

It was a fallback protocol I'd set months ago—only to be used if someone in my circle had been compromised.

"Something's wrong," I said, my voice sharper now, clipped.

Jiang straightened. "Sen Yui?"

I shook my head. "No. Orm."

His face paled, eyes wide.

I didn't give myself the luxury of fear. I turned to Jiang, cold and controlled again.

"Get the jet ready. We leave in twenty."

"But what about the Prime Minister tomorrow—"

"Cancel it." I snapped. "I don't care if it's the whole damn government waiting—she's in danger."

I turned back toward my blazer, pulling it on, already calculating the flight time, the fastest route from the airstrip to her apartment, every safehouse between there and—

And my hands froze. The thought hit me like a bullet.

She was under my protection. My watch.

And I let her out of my sight.

My lips pressed into a line as I reached for the second burner, this one directly connected to the Bangkok team.

"Get eyes on her. I want live footage, now. If anyone touches her, I swear I will bury them."

My heart thundered, not with panic—but with something far worse.

Rage.

Hold on, Orm. I'm coming.

The heavy glass doors of the hotel slammed shut behind me with a thunderous finality. My heels struck the marble like gunshots, each step echoing through the vast, gilded lobby I had just claimed as mine.

And yet, none of it mattered now.

"Move!" I barked at the guard holding the door to the Rolls. He opened it so fast I barely had to slow down. Jiang was already slipping into the seat across from me, tension written across his face.

The driver looked back in the mirror, awaiting orders.

"To the airstrip," I snapped, slamming the door shut behind me. "Top speed. Don't stop. If the cops pull you, run them over."

"Yes, Boss," he stammered, and the engine roared to life, snarling like something feral.

The Cullinan peeled out, convoy tightening around us—armored black SUVs forming a perfect barrier on either side, behind, and ahead. Sirens wailed in the distance, but they weren't ours. Not yet.

I leaned forward, elbows on knees, mind racing.

"Any updates?" I asked Jiang without looking up.

He checked his tablet, fingers flying. "Still nothing from the Bangkok crew. Cameras near the clinic have been wiped. No signal from the tracker we planted on her keychain either. I think they jammed it."

A muscle in my jaw jumped. "And the driver?"

"Fake ID. We're checking every traffic cam from the clinic's exit."

I slammed my fist down on the center console. "She was under my watch," I growled. "My people were right there."

Jiang looked at me, hesitant, as if weighing his next words. "This... this might be Sen Yui, Boss. Retaliation. You destroyed his flagship hotel. He lost more than money last night."

I stared out the tinted window, Hong Kong's glowing skyline whipping past us.

"This isn't about business anymore," I muttered.

It never was.

The thought of Orm—alone, possibly hurt, taken by the same people who scarred her once before—set fire to every nerve in my body.

"I don't care what I have to do," I said lowly, but each word cut like a blade. "When I find her... I'll make whoever took her beg to die."

Jiang didn't speak again.

There was nothing to say.

Only blood to spill.

The Cullinan raced down the expressway like a phantom in the night, headlights cutting through the dark fog that had settled over the harbor. The city lights glittered below, oblivious to the storm brewing above.

My fists clenched in my lap, nails digging into my palms so hard I could feel the sting of skin breaking. Anger didn't even begin to cover it—it was fury laced with fear, venom with a heartbeat.

Jiang's voice cut into the silence. "Boss... we'll find her. I've sent men to the outskirts. The port. Even the old warehouses near the fishing districts."

I didn't look at him.

"I told them to protect her," I said coldly. "I left her for a week."

Jiang swallowed. "She's strong."

"She's mine," I snapped, my voice like a whip. "And someone touched what's mine. AGAIN!"

My phone buzzed again—just a flash on the screen. A single text.

"She's safe, for now. Call off your dogs."

No name. No number. Just cold audacity.

I stared at it for a beat before chucking the phone across the car. It hit the other door and clattered to the floor, screen still glowing.

Jiang jumped slightly. "Should I trace it?"

"Trace it, track it, burn their whole fucking family tree if you need to," I growled. "I want names. I want blood."

My breathing was shallow, my chest tight. The thought of Orm's amber eyes wide with fear, her body in someone else's hands, left a sour taste in my mouth. I didn't fear many things—but losing her was a terror that knotted deep into my bones.

I pulled out a fresh cigarette with shaking hands, lighting it despite Jiang's silent protest. The flame snapped to life, and I took a long, furious drag.

"When we land," I said, smoke curling from my lips, "we lock the city down. Airports, ports, trains—shut them all. I want the sewers watched. I want every face checked. We find her. Tonight."

Jiang nodded without hesitation.

And as the car flew toward the private airstrip, engines howling like war drums, I stared ahead with murder in my eyes.

They thought they could take Orm from me?

They didn't know who the hell I was.

...

The plane was already prepped by the time we skidded onto the tarmac. The jet engines roared, echoing my heartbeat. I didn't wait for the stairs to be fully lowered—I was halfway up before the driver even cut the engine of the Cullinan.

Jiang followed close behind, tablet in hand, phone pressed to his ear, shouting orders in Mandarin to the ground teams coordinating our arrival. The jet doors sealed behind us, and we were in the air within minutes—fastest departure clearance ever granted. No customs. No announcements. Just fury slicing through clouds.

I sat stiffly in my leather seat, fists clenched on either armrest. The moment the seatbelt light went off, I was up again, pacing the aisle like a caged panther.

"Give me updates," I demanded.

Jiang tapped his tablet. "We traced the burner phone that sent the message. It pinged three towers near the outer edge of Kanchanaphisek. My guess is the message was sent from a moving car, but... we might've missed them by minutes."

"Any facial recognition from traffic cams?"

"Not yet. We're scrubbing them now. There were three black vehicles in the area within that time frame—two of which match convoy-style movement. They were headed toward the old industrial zone."

My jaw clenched. "That's one of Sen Yui's dead zones."

Jiang looked up. "Exactly. You think it's him?"

I didn't answer right away. I thought of the way Sen Yui looked at me last time during our meeting, calm and smug. The way his tone dipped just slightly when I mentioned Orm. He knew. Maybe he'd known longer than I'd realized.

"Maybe," I said darkly. "Or someone who wants him and I at war."

The thought made me sick. Not just because of the betrayal it implied—but because Orm was now caught in the center of a blood feud bigger than either of us ever intended.

I opened my phone again—cracked screen and all—and stared at her name in my contacts.

Doctor.

No message sent. No read receipt. No blue tick. Just silence.

I would burn cities for her. I would raze empires. I would tear apart Sen Yui's entire legacy if it meant bringing her home with a scratch less than what they gave her.

"Tell the Hong Kong team," I said, voice low and dangerous, "that if they see her—if they even think they've seen her—I want eyes on, no engagement. I don't want a bullet flying unless it's through someone else's skull."

Jiang nodded. "Already done."

I sat back down finally, resting my elbows on my knees and pressing my hands together beneath my chin. My voice dropped.

"She has to be okay."

Jiang, standing silently near the cabin wall, answered softly.

"She will be. Because you won't stop until she is."

And he was right.

Because I was coming home—and God help anyone who stood between me and the woman I love.

As soon as the wheels of the jet kissed the tarmac of Bangkok's private military airstrip, I was already dialing.

"Shut it down," I said coldly into the phone. "I want the entire airport on lockdown. No planes in. No planes out. Close every civilian terminal, every gate, every private airfield—now."

The voice on the other end hesitated. "Ma'am, that could cause diplomatic—"

"I don't care. Shut it down."

I hung up before they could stutter a response. My boots hit the stairs of the plane before it had fully come to a stop, coat whipping behind me from the force of my stride. Jiang was already coordinating with the Bangkok ground team, barking into his radio.

"Lock down all major highways and city exits!" I snapped as I passed the rows of black SUVs and armed guards waiting below. "I want checkpoints set up in under thirty minutes. Block sea ports, ferry docks, even the fucking train stations. Nobody leaves Bangkok until I say so."

I threw open the door of my G-Wagon, and Jiang jumped in the passenger side. The convoy peeled out in seconds, tires screeching, sirens silenced—only the low hum of dread vibrating through the air.

Jiang turned to me. "Still no sign of Orm?"

I shook my head once, sharply.

"But we've traced the burner phone's last known coordinates. I had two teams sweep the area. Blood found on the pavement. Small—someone hit. Dragged. But no body."

My grip on the wheel tightened. "That means she's still alive."

Jiang nodded. "Yes. And judging by the profile of the vehicle... it wasn't just any car. It was one of ours."

I blinked, then turned my head to look at him. "Ours?"

"A rogue unit," Jiang said grimly. "Or someone pretending to be. We're looking into their supply routes now. Whoever it is, they have access to resources. That worries me."

I exhaled slowly. My mind raced. Whoever took her wanted me to feel it. Wanted me to see how vulnerable I was when she was involved. Maybe it was Sen Yui. Maybe someone more desperate. More unpredictable.

Either way, they had no idea what they just lit inside me.

I picked up the phone again. "Double the bounty. I want her found by nightfall. And if she's hurt..." My voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "I'll paint the rivers red."

As we turned onto the highway toward our safe house command center, my eyes narrowed on the Bangkok skyline ahead.

War had just begun.

And this time—it was personal.

The convoy tore through the Bangkok streets, a blur of black steel and flashing lights under the cover of dusk. The moment we reached the safe house—an abandoned, reinforced estate just outside the city center—I stepped out before the engines had even cut.

Jiang trailed behind me, his phone pressed to his ear, issuing rapid orders in Mandarin. My own mind was steel-edged, a swirling storm of fury and focus.

Inside the estate, the control room had already been activated. Dozens of screens flickered—traffic cams, satellite images, maps of Bangkok divided into quadrants. My people were working at full capacity. But I could still feel the dread clawing at the edges of my chest.

Orm was somewhere in this city. And someone dared put their hands on her.

"Any updates on the blood sample from the pickup site?" I asked the nearest tech.

"Still running it, boss," he said nervously. "Should be back within the hour. We're also running plate recognition through every traffic cam. Nothing yet—but if they moved her, it was off-grid."

"Then start sweeping alleyways, warehouses, underground clubs, old buildings. Anything with a basement or reinforced doors."

"Yes, boss."

Jiang returned, lowering his phone. "We found the driver, Wei," he said grimly. "Dead. Two bullets to the head. Dumped by the river."

I clenched my fists. "So they're cleaning up. They've planned this."

Jiang hesitated. "Boss... this isn't just a message. This feels like a trap."

"I know," I muttered. My voice had gone cold. "But that doesn't matter. I'm walking into it either way."

My phone buzzed again. I picked it up.

A message. No name. Just a photo.

Orm. Unconscious. Tied to a chair. A bruise on her cheek.

My heart stilled.

Another message came in:

"You burned our house. Now we're burning your heart."

My jaw locked.

"Trace it," I growled to the tech team, raising the phone. "NOW."

One of them ran over. "Ma'am, the image was scrubbed—metadata's stripped, but... we can enhance background details. Give us fifteen minutes."

"Make it five," I snapped.

Jiang stepped forward slowly. "What do you want to do if we find them?"

I turned to face him. My voice was quiet. Steady. But every word was edged like a blade.

"Find them. Kill anyone who touches her. And burn whatever hole they're hiding in to the ground."

I paused, staring at the image again.

"And Jiang?"

"Yes?"

"I want the man who bruised her... alive. For a little while."

My men nodded. The room grew tenser. And for the first time in years, even Jiang looked slightly afraid of me.

Good.

They should be.

Because this time...

I'm not showing mercy.

...

The room had gone quiet. Too quiet.

The air buzzed with tension as the tech team finalized the location. My eyes hadn't left the screen in hours—replaying the photo of Orm over and over. Her head limp, bruise dark and blooming on her pale cheek. Every time I looked at it, a deeper part of me fractured. And somewhere between rage and helplessness, I realized I'd never hated anyone like I hated Sen Yui in that moment.

Jiang stood beside me, tablet in hand. He didn't speak unless necessary. He knew I was balancing on the edge.

Then finally—

"We got it."

The room jolted alive. The lead tech turned to me, sweating under pressure.

"Industrial zone, east side of Bangkok. Old textile factory—abandoned for years. Surveillance is minimal. Based on heat signatures and infrared, we count six... no—seven people inside."

"Orm?" I said, my voice like broken glass.

"She's there," the tech confirmed. "Tied to a chair, second floor. Still alive—moving. Weak, but conscious."

Jiang's breath left him in a shaky exhale. I closed my eyes for a single second.

Then I opened them, and they burned.

"I want the strike team ready in ten. Jiang, take point with Alpha Unit. I'm coming in with Bravo."

He hesitated. "Lingling... are you sure—?"

"She's my love," I said. "They touched her. I'm not sitting this one out."

He didn't argue again.

...

Ten minutes later, we rolled out.

The G-Wagon stayed behind. I was in a matte black SUV now, dressed in all black—combat boots, bulletproof vest, twin pistols under my jacket, and a blade strapped to my thigh.

I wasn't the feared socialite. I was the war machine they whispered about in the darkest corners of Hong Kong.

The convoy moved through the city like a shadow. No sirens. No warning.

By the time we reached the factory, it was nearly midnight. The structure loomed ahead, rusted and hollow. My earpiece crackled with the voice of one of our snipers already in position.

"Seven targets confirmed. One female captive. Minimal movement inside."

I stepped out of the SUV and rolled my neck.

Jiang looked at me.

"No mercy?" he asked quietly.

I looked at him, eyes sharper than steel.

"No survivors," I said.

And then we moved in.

For Orm.

For every bruise on her skin.

For every second she was alone.

They were going to pay.

The first man didn't even hear me coming.

I was inside the factory before the rest of Bravo Unit made it past the gates. They whispered through their comms, but my blood was roaring too loud in my ears. Orm's bruised face was burned into the backs of my eyes, and that's all I could see.

My boots echoed across the cracked floor as I moved through the dark. The blade in my hand felt like an extension of my rage. It wasn't just steel—it was grief, fury, betrayal, and the raw, animal instinct to protect what's mine.

The first guard rounded the corner, and I moved like shadow.

My blade slashed across his throat in one swift arc—clean, silent, efficient. But I wasn't here to be silent.

I kicked his body into the wall, letting the thud ring out like a warning.

I'm here.

They would all know it.

Another rushed down the hallway, gun in hand. He didn't even have time to scream before I drove the blade through his chest—close enough to see the panic in his eyes before it faded.

"You touched her," I whispered.

I didn't even know if this one had. Didn't matter. They were all guilty by association.

The room upstairs was close now. I could hear voices—panicked, scrambling. The kind of chaos that came from knowing death had just walked through your front door and it was wearing red lipstick and black leather gloves.

I kicked open the stairwell door, my boots pounding the metal steps, loud as hell, and I didn't care.

"Lingling, we're breaching west side," Jiang's voice buzzed in my ear.

"Do it," I growled. "Leave the top floor to me."

I reached the landing. One man stood guard outside the door. He raised his rifle too slow.

I caught his wrist, wrenched it down, and slammed the butt of his own weapon into his face. Blood sprayed. He fell.

I didn't even look at him again.

I kicked open the door—and then I saw her.

Orm. Tied to a chair. Weak. Pale. But alive.

Alive.

Her amber eyes met mine—and even in her state, they widened. She tried to speak, but no sound came out.

My hands clenched around the blade. Behind her—three men. One of them was holding a phone. Recording.

He raised his gun.

I didn't hesitate.

I launched forward, blade slicing the air in a deadly arc, catching the closest in the neck, then spun, dodged a bullet, and drove the tip of the knife into the shooter's gut. He screamed. I twisted.

"You think hurting her makes you powerful?" I snarled into his face. "She is everything. You? You're already forgotten."

He fell.

The last one tried to run.

I tackled him to the ground, disarmed him, and didn't stop until the floor was red and my breath came in ragged gasps.

Only when he stopped moving did I let the blade go.

I dropped to my knees in front of Orm.

Her lip trembled. Tears welled in her eyes.

"Ling..." she whispered.

I cut her ropes gently. My hands were shaking.

"I'm here," I whispered back. "You're safe. I'm here now."

And I pulled her into my arms, blood on my gloves, sweat on my brow, and vengeance still burning behind my eyes.

But in that moment, all I cared about... was her.

Orm was trembling against me.

Her breath hitched softly in my ear, and I could feel her chest rise and fall—too fast, too uneven. She hadn't said a word since I untied her. Her eyes were wide, still staring at the blood, the bodies, me.

I turned her gently in my arms, cupped the side of her face with my hand, and whispered, "Close your eyes, baobei..."

But she didn't blink.

So I brought my hand up, slowly, softly, and covered her eyes with my palm. She didn't resist. I could feel the wetness of her tears soaking into my glove.

"You don't need to see any of this," I whispered against her temple, voice trembling with restraint now, my rage burned out and only raw emotion left behind. "Not like this... not what I had to do."

I held her closer, burying her against my chest, rocking her as the others began to filter in through the wreckage behind us. I could hear Jiang barking orders, covering bodies, clearing the perimeter—but I didn't look back.

My whole world was in my arms.

Orm had seen it now. The other side of me. The version of Lingling that people whispered about in alleys, the name that made men sweat in their suits and beg for mercy.

Not the woman who cooked her breakfast and dried her hair with a smirk. Not the woman who stole lazy kisses on rainy mornings and traced the freckles on her back.

No.

Now she'd seen the truth—the blood-soaked queen of Hong Kong's underworld.

Her voice finally came, muffled, shaking.

"You... killed them."

I hesitated. Then I nodded, still holding her close. "They laid a hand on you," I said quietly. "I warned them. No one touches what's mine."

She was quiet for a long moment.

I braced myself—for fear, for rejection, for the shattering moment when she'd pull away.

But then her fingers reached for mine beneath her, weak but certain, curling around them.

"I was scared..." she whispered, "but I knew you'd come."

My chest ached.

"Always," I breathed. "Always, Orm."

Jiang's voice broke through the comms. "We're ready to move, boss."

I gently stood with her still in my arms. She winced, her body sore, but didn't protest. I didn't care how many eyes watched—I carried her out of that place myself, through the carnage, through the fire, through the shadows of the past.

Let them see.

Let the world remember: Lingling doesn't lose what's hers.

The air outside was thick with smoke and iron—blood and fuel. My boots stepped over shattered glass and cold bodies as I carried Orm out of that godforsaken place. Her arms were looped loosely around my neck, eyes heavy, skin cold. Every time I looked at her cheek—the purple bruise, swollen and raw—I saw red all over again.

Behind us, my men were cleaning house. Jiang directed them efficiently—removing evidence, wiping prints, setting up for the burn. There was no trace of hesitation. Only loyalty. Only fire in their veins for me.

"Who did this to you?" I asked again, my voice low but trembling with restrained fury.

Orm shook her head softly. "I... I don't remember their faces. I blacked out when they hit me."

That was enough for me to know.

Not Sen Yui himself.

Coward.

Of course, he wouldn't dirty his own hands—not yet. He sent dogs to do his bidding.

I was just walking past the final rusted gate, the cool night air biting at my skin as I stepped into the open—when I heard it.

Engines.

Lots of them.

Blacked-out vehicles rolled up on the broken road like a slow, deliberate flood. The glare of headlights washed over me and Orm. My men immediately pulled out weapons and closed in formation. Jiang took position in front of me like a wall.

Then, from the center car—he stepped out.

Sen Yui.

Impeccably dressed. Impossibly calm. Cold, unreadable eyes, like the barrel of a loaded gun. His hand lifted casually from his side.

And in it—a pistol.

He leveled it at me.

Straight between the eyes.

Orm tensed in my arms. She didn't even see his face yet. Didn't know.

Didn't remember.

I gently set her down behind one of my men, shielding her with my coat as I stepped forward. My blade was still sheathed at my side, but my fingers curled around the hilt.

"You think you can burn my city and walk away?" Sen Yui's voice carried like a whip crack in the dark.

"I don't think," I called back coldly. "I act. Something you seem too coward to do yourself."

The safety on his gun clicked.

"Step aside, Lingling. I'm taking her."

I didn't blink.

"She's mine."

From behind me, Orm's voice—trembling, confused—cut through the tension.

"Lingling... why is he..."

I didn't turn.

Not yet.

Not now.

Because she didn't know. She hadn't put it together.

That the man pointing a gun at me—the monster she feared—the one behind the nightmares—

Was her father.

And if he dared pull that trigger, I would make sure his empire fell before his body hit the ground.

My breath slowed as I tracked every step Sen Yui took. His gun never wavered—not once—but his body moved closer to her. To Orm.

I shifted, placing myself between them, blade at the ready, body tensed like a drawn wire.

But then I noticed it—Orm wasn't hiding.

She stood, pushing off the car slowly, her amber eyes narrowing as she tried to see him better. Confusion creased her brow, like something just out of reach clawed at the edge of her memory.

Then her gaze dropped—right to the side of his neck.

That tattoo.

That cursed dragon inked in deep black, curling into flames and clawed fangs.

I saw her go still.

Her lips parted.

"No..."

She looked back up—really looked—and I saw her eyes widen as everything crashed into place.

Childhood memories. Hands that once held her. Laughter in a park. The smell of gunpowder behind a locked door. A voice that used to call her name like a lullaby—until it disappeared.

Her knees almost buckled, but she didn't fall.

"Pa..." she breathed out. Barely audible. Shattered.

Sen Yui's eyes flinched for the first time—just a twitch—but his gun still pointed at me.

I saw the horror on Orm's face, the betrayal tearing her open from the inside out.

I wanted to shield her. To wrap her up and tell her it was a lie. That the man who ordered a hit on her cheek wasn't the same one who once braided her hair in the garden when she was five.

But I couldn't lie.

I could only stand.

"You knew," she whispered to me. Her voice cracked.

"I didn't know at first," I said, my tone flat, controlled. "But when I did, I was going to tell you. I just needed the right moment."

"You should've told me the moment you knew," she choked, voice trembling. "He—he tried to kill me, and you—"

"He didn't just try, Orm," I said, eyes locked with Sen Yui's. "He sent them. The ones who put that cut on your face. He gave the order."

Sen Yui didn't deny it.

Didn't even blink.

Orm stared at him, tears building. "Why...?"

He finally spoke, but not to me. To her.

"Because she made you weak," he said coldly. "And I won't let weakness spread through my bloodline."

My fingers tightened on the blade.

Orm took a step back, like she'd been shot in the chest.

Her words settled in the air like a thunderclap. "I'm not yours. Not anymore."

And for a heartbeat—I couldn't breathe.

I had waited. Feared. Wondered if, when the truth came out, she'd look at me with the same disgust she reserved for him.

But she didn't.

She chose me.

Despite everything. Despite who I was. Despite who he was.

That quiet defiance in her voice, the tears shaking but not stopping her—it hit harder than any bullet could.

And I—

Bang.

The crack split the air before I even registered the flash.

A sharp, searing pain tore through my side.

My body jerked.

Then the world tilted.

"LINGLING!" Orm screamed, her voice warping as it crashed into my ears.

I stumbled, warmth flooding beneath my ribs. My knees hit the dirt. The blade slipped from my fingers.

I could hear footsteps—Orm rushing toward me—but I couldn't look up. I tasted iron.

I had turned just enough to shield her.

Of course I had.

Sen Yui stood there with the gun still raised, his expression unreadable—stone cold.

Another step and he would've aimed again. But my men were already moving. The sound of safeties clicking off echoed like a thunderstorm behind me.

But all I could focus on was the feel of Orm's hands on me. Shaking. Gripping. Her voice cracking—

"Stay with me! Ling—please, you're okay, you're gonna be okay—Jiang, call someone! Call someone now!"

I reached up weakly, brushing her cheek.

Her eyes were wild. Amber and fire.

A single tear slipped from mine—slow, silent—as I looked at her. Not from the pain. Not even from the fear. Just... her.

I let out a small, broken laugh, blood in my mouth. "Guess... I owed you a bullet," I whispered.

"Don't—don't say that—shut up, don't talk like that—!"

Her hands pressed to the wound, but I could feel how warm it was. How fast I was losing blood.

Jiang was shouting. My men were dragging Sen Yui's guards to their knees, and Sen Yui himself was now forced down by three of mine—gun finally out of his grip.

But I didn't care.

Not right now.

All I could see was her.

Orm.

And if this was it—if this was the end—

Then there was nowhere else I'd rather be.

If I died right now, in her arms, looking into the eyes of the only person I had ever truly, completely loved...

Then I would die happy.

Because she had chosen me.

I locked eyes with her, even as the darkness swam in my vision.

"Even if I don't make it..." I said, coughing. "At least you chose me."

Orm shook her head furiously, tears falling fast now. "You are making it. You hear me? You're not leaving me. Not now Lingling please."

And in her voice—I heard something more terrifying than pain.

Love.

And in that moment, that was enough to make me fight to stay conscious.

To live.

For her.