The Wrong Woman

Lucas drew a deep breath, quelling his rage as he stowed away Mila's gun, muttering curses under his breath directed at Oliver. "This lovestruck fool is indeed a failure. We've witnessed the might of this gun before, yet he let her bring it in. Piece of shit.”

With that, Lucas pivoted and strode away, his voice firm as he issued commands. "Clean up these bodies and lock these women up separately.”

"Anyone who dares to lay a hand on them will lose his dick,” Lucas thundered. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Vega," his subordinates chorused in response.

Without delay, the burly men escorted Mila out of the room.

As Lucas’ figure receded, Mila desperately cried out, her voice echoing through the corridor. "Please, get a doctor for Phoebe. She's suffering from internal injuries. Please, get help for her.”

Ignoring her pleas, Lucas continued on his way, his steps resolute. Separated from Phoebe once more, Mila persisted in banging on the door as she was confined to her room, her voice pleading. "Can't you hear me? Get a doctor for Phoebe, and get her some medication. I'm begging you."

In another room, Phoebe's eyes shimmered with tears, a radiant smile gracing her lips. Her soft voice trembled with emotion. "Mila, I'm alright.”

Night descended.

by hunger and exhaustion, tossed and turned in bed, unable to find rest. Her thoughts were

deafening clap of thunder

shrieked in terror, reflexively covering her ears

it was raining, the sensation

no time, thunder rumbled, and lightning

herself within the blankets. She drew them tightly around her body and sought solace in their warmth as she curled her legs beneath

seemed like an eternity, the thunder rumbled to a halt, and the rain's relentless drumming

faint thud reverberated from the door, barely audible

the blankets, she discovered the room cloaked in impenetrable

outage alone was unsettling, but the eerie silence that enveloped the surroundings felt profoundly wrong. Determined