The Wrong Woman

Mila's face was awash with tears, her emotion a mixture of anguish and resentment, as she gazed up at Murray and screamed, "Why did you have to take his life? Why?"

With a mere smirk, Murray replied, "I kill whoever I want to kill, without any reason.”

Mila's sobs took an unexpected turn, morphing into laughter. As each tear fell onto her lips, she tasted the bitterness of sorrow.

Seated on the ground, she cradled Nathan's shoulders in her lap, her arms gently supporting his head as she pressed her cheek against his chilling skin.

Each tear that fell from her eyes found its way onto Nathan's face, a silent cascade of grief. No longer did she cry out or protest.

Instead, she held Nathan's cold form close, her body trembling while her tears flowed ceaselessly down her cheeks.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, her throat sore as she whispered, "Nate is dead. None of you will get hydronium, and you won't find Mila either. You can kill me now."

Mila?" Murray demanded

the first time in her life, she experienced

so deep that she didn't even dare to keep living. It felt like everything in the world was no longer irrelevant to

her sobs, her

grabbed Mila’s collar, and pulled her up, his gaze icy. "Do you think I won't?" Mila trembled violently, her eyes red from crying, her body still shaking. In a fit of hysteria, she purposely enraged him,

his gun and pointed it at Mila's

felt an unprecedented sense of relief. Without a hint of fear, she closed her eyes slowly. All she hoped for now was to catch up to Nathan after death. She wanted to be with him and

choked her tears and whispered, "I'm sorry, Nate. I'm

with her heart aching terribly. She hoped

tense roar

head being pushed away, and