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."

is Mila?"

For the first time in her life, she experienced the agony of losing

that the pain ran so deep that she didn't even dare to keep living. It felt like everything in the

Mila repeated through her

his gaze icy. "Do you think I won't?" Mila trembled violently, her eyes red from crying, her body still shaking. In a fit

was instantly provoked. He drew his gun and pointed it

now was to catch up to Nathan

tears and whispered, "I'm sorry, Nate. I'm late, but please wait

awaited the sound of the gunshot with her heart aching terribly. She hoped the

A tense

felt the gun above her head being pushed away, and a familiar voice, frantic