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.

unable to find

clap of thunder pierced the

terror, reflexively covering her ears and curling into

after reclaiming her memories. The day her parents were attacked, it was raining, the sensation of drowning in the

no time, thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed outside, accompanied by pouring

herself within the blankets. She drew them tightly around her body and sought solace in

a halt, and

reverberated from the door,

cloaked in impenetrable darkness. Perhaps it was the storm

The power outage alone was unsettling, but the eerie silence that enveloped the surroundings felt profoundly wrong. Determined to investigate, she threw off the blankets and slipped out of bed, navigating the darkness toward the