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 rest. Her thoughts were consumed

clap of

reflexively covering her ears

even after reclaiming her memories. The day her parents were attacked, it was raining,

no time, thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed outside,

body and sought solace in their warmth as she curled her legs beneath

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

the door, barely

blankets, she discovered the room cloaked in impenetrable darkness. Perhaps it was the storm that wreaked havoc on the electrical

profoundly wrong. Determined to investigate, she threw off the blankets and slipped out of bed, navigating the darkness toward the door with cautious steps. With trembling hands, she unlocked the door and eased