Xavier slammed the door so hard the frame shuddered. He filled the doorway, pistol leveled at Adrian and Freya. "Hands behind your neck, both of you," he ordered.
Adrian and Freya obeyed, palms pressing the back of their heads. Vice chief? How did he find us here? Adrian thought, measuring the man who had just walked into their life like a storm.
Xavier's eyes flicked to Freya. "Freya, right? You're too troublesome for us," he said with a thin smile.
Freya's mouth went dry. They know Adrian's face — but how do they know mine? How? she wondered.
"Don't move a single muscle or I'll shoot," Xavier added, tone loose with menace.
Adrian read the play. He's posturing. He wants a show. I can use that. He kept his expression calm, pretending to be cornered.
"Your grandfather will be ashamed of you," Xavier sneered. "It'll be fun to see his face when he finds out I killed his grandson."
Adrian let a smirk creep across his features. "Like hell I'd believe a nobody," he said.
Xavier reacted with a quick, livid curse and fired. The bullet screamed past so close to Adrian's ear the air burned.
Adrian didn't flinch. Instead, from his position he angled a finger toward the window where Freya stood nearest.
Freya's mind scrambled. Is he telling me to escape through the window? No—
She glanced and saw a mirror propped beside the window, its heavy glass catching the dim light. Adrian repeated the signal, then mimed throwing.
Mirror? Throw it at him? If I move he'll shoot, Freya thought, fear and calculation fighting in her chest.
Xavier barked, "Cocky bastard. Who the hell do you think you are?"
Adrian baited him. "Why aren't you shooting? Scared?"
The vice chief spat and fired again. The sound echoed, and Adrian—expecting it—arched his torso backward, extending a leg between Xavier's hands as the man recoiled. His foot knocked into the barrel, wrenching Xavier's grip.
The pistol skidded from Xavier's palms and clattered across the floor.
Freya didn't hesitate. She lifted the heavy glass mirror and hurled it with everything she had.
Adrian dropped to his knees and curled, arms over his head. The mirror smashed against Xavier's torso and forearms. Shards exploded outward, slivers cracking the air. Xavier raised his arms to block; the glass tore into his skin.
Pain painted Xavier's face as blood started to run from deep cuts in his wrists and torso. He staggered, more shocked than hurt.
"Run!" Adrian shouted, his voice raw. "Freya, get through the window now!"
A boot slammed into Adrian's face from the side, knocking him to the floor.
Glass shards punched into the soles of his back as he hit the ground. Pain flared hot and immediate.
Xavier lunged on top of him, raining backhanded punches. Adrian's mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood as his lips split and his nose bled freely. He fought to stay conscious, to keep the world from tilting away.
With desperate strength, Adrian drove his forehead into Xavier's, a brutal, bone-on-bone strike that bought him a fraction of space. He forced himself up into a crouch, every movement a gamble.
"Freya! Get out of that damn window! Remember I promised to protect you," he shouted through the haze.
Freya hesitated only a heartbeat, tears bright and hot at the corners of her eyes. She slid through the broken window, every inch a trade-off between safety and leaving him behind. "Please don't… die," she whispered, voice cracking as she scrambled away.
Xavier's eyes were feral, burning with a red heat. "You're going to die," he hissed. "You are dying by my hands."
Adrian wiped blood from his face with the back of his sleeve, spit and anger mingling. "She told me not to die," he said, voice low and fierce. "So I'm not going to die yet." He planted his feet and took a stance—wounded, bleeding, and refusing to die.
Xavier closed the distance, each step heavy with menace, when a sudden bang shattered the noise. A gunshot cracked from outside, and the window burst into shards.
Adrian's eyes darted to the frame just as Xavier bent to snatch the pistol from the floor. He raised it—only for another shot to slam into his hand. The weapon slipped from his grasp, clattering uselessly to the ground as blood streamed from his palm.
Someone outside fired? Who—
Through the jagged window, a familiar figure appeared.
"Hey, Adrian! Come fast!"
Adrian froze. R-Rian? How's he here?
Without a second thought, he vaulted through the window. Rian was already waiting by the car. Adrian and Freya tumbled into the backseat while Rian slid behind the wheel.
Behind them, Xavier staggered to the shattered frame, clutching his bleeding hand. His voice bellowed through the alley, raw and furious.
"Adrian! You can't run forever—I swear I'll kill you myself!"
Rian floored the accelerator, tires screeching as the car shot forward.
But Xavier's voice chased them still, each word heavier than the last.
"I'll kill you too, Rian—the boy who murdered his own parents!"
Adrian's breath caught. What…? He glanced toward the front seat, but Rian's eyes stayed locked on the road, his grip on the wheel tightening until his knuckles went white.
In the backseat, Freya leaned close, her voice trembling. "Adrian… are you alright?"
"I'm fine," he muttered, though his words came sharp with pain. "But how did you find Rian this fast?"
Freya shook her head. "I didn't. As soon as I climbed out the window, he was already there."
Adrian frowned. "Then what happened at the café? And Ripley—where is she? How did you even know where we were hiding?"
Rian's voice was flat, unshaken. "I got your address from Ripley. We'll pick her up first. Then I'll explain what happened."
Freya lowered her gaze, whispering, "But how did Xavier know we were there…?"
Adrian clenched his jaw, the memory of Xavier's accusation clawing at his mind. Why did he say Rian killed his own parents…?
"Adrian," Freya said suddenly, her eyes widening. "You're bleeding."
He grimaced, reaching back to touch the shards embedded in his skin.
"Yeah… my back. Damn it, it hurts."
"Let me take them out," she said firmly.
"What? You?!" Adrian's eyes widened, a mix of panic and disbelief flashing across his face. "You'd really… pull them out?"
Despite everything, Freya managed a faint smile. "Better me than leaving glass stuck in you."
The car wound through the alleys, the tension thick between them. At last, up ahead, Ripley's battered figure appeared , Rian slowed, and she climbed in, her face bloodied, body trembling—but alive.
Ripley get into the front seat beside Rian, clutching her side, blood soaking through the fabric.
"You're injured badly," Freya whispered, worry written all over her face.
"It's nothing much for me," Ripley muttered, brushing it off.
Rian's gaze stayed fixed on the road. "Looks like you weren't able to do anything against him. Whatever—at least you didn't die."
Ripley's eyebrow twitched. "What did you just say?"
"Take my advice," Rian said flatly. "Forget this revenge obsession, or next time, you'll actually die."
In a flash, Ripley grabbed his collar, yanking him sideways with fire blazing in her eyes. "Don't run your filthy mouth in my business. You understand me?"
Freya caught Ripley's arm, desperate. "Hey, calm down! Let go of him—he doesn't mean anything by it!"
But Rian didn't even flinch. His eyes stayed locked on the road, face unreadable. "I'm driving. You're injured. Those are your lucky factors."
Ripley's grip tightened. "You threatening me, huh?"
Adrian stayed quiet, his mind spinning. Xavier's words echoed—about Rian killing his own parents. Now Rian was accusing Ripley of revenge. Everyone had something buried in their past, scars deep enough to drag them into this hell, just like him.
Freya pleaded again. "Ripley, please. Now isn't the time. Let go."
Ripley finally released his collar, still glaring, then leaned back.
"Now tell us," Adrian said sharply, "what happened back at the café after we left."
Freya glanced at him, muttering under her breath. "Good one."
Rian exhaled, his voice steady.
—
The café was a massacre.
Mathew and his unit tore through the masked men, bullets flying without discrimination—innocent civilians fell alongside the Syndicate pawns. Blood slicked the floors, bodies slumped over shattered furniture, and gunfire drowned out every scream.
Leo, Finn, and Rian crouched behind an overturned table, caught between horror and disbelief.
"Th-thank god our table's at the side," Leo stammered, his face pale.
Finn smirked, trying to keep control of the moment. "SARS… they don't care about anything except the Ruling Syndicate."
Mathew stepped carefully through the carnage, scanning the chaos. "Check the bodies. Confirm if any Shadow members are among them," he ordered, his men scattering instantly.
"Where did the Vice Chief go?" Mathew muttered, eyes narrowing.
"They're checking the bodies?" Rian whispered.
Leo's peeped. "What are they doing that? Looking for us?"
Finn shook his head, keeping his cool. "Impossible. They don't know our faces."
Then Finn's phone vibrated, its sharp ring cutting through the tension. He answered quickly, voice low. "Ethan? Where are you? Are you guys coming or not—what? They know? How? O-okay, we'll—"
He froze, his smirk fading just slightly.
Leo grabbed his arm, "What did he say?"
Finn exhaled, still trying to keep calm, though his jaw was tight. "Ethan said they were on their way, but SARS started chasing them. And somehow—they don't know why—SARS already knows our faces."
Leo's voice cracked. "H-how do they know?"
Finn's composure slipped for the first time. "I don't know… but if that's true, we're doomed here."