★ Butterfly 's POV ★
Tears I hadn't shed in the past five years found its way down my chest as the sense of dread washed over me.
"I can't get caught. I can't!"
Because if I'm caught, my brother is the ones who would get killed while they make me watch. I can't." My chest tightened.
With a sickening pull, I was yanked back by my hair, as a skull-splitting strike with a gun landed on my head. Warm liquid rushed down like an overflowing fountain, as blood stained my vision.
"Take her, second in command request her alive." One said.
"Is this the slut that sent the boss to the hospital." Another said, landing a jaw-shifting smack on my face.
At their words my world tilted.
Not because I was caught, but because of what I was going to lose.
"He should be dead! I gave the last blow! No. No. No. No. NOOOOOO!"
"HE SHOULD BE DEAD. HE HAS TO DIE."
"No."
If he's alive, everything thing fails.
He would do anything to find me and if he does, before his gaze would even flicker in my direction, it would settle on my little brother—my reason to breathe. The only light in this shadowed world.
And what truly terrified me, beyond my life, is his life.
He can't see him, he can't touch him. Because if he does, his signature will be all over him… he'd turn him to his experimental specimens.
No. My heart sunk.
If I don't escape now, everything will collapse. His lives, my mission, our future.
I have to get out of here.
By my hair, I was dragged through the muck of the alley, with my body scraping against the rough ground.
Each pull ripped through my scalp, but I couldn't fight even though I wanted to.
They twisted my body, and my broken left arm slammed against a wall, sending a fresh wave of blinding agony through me.
My legs, already weak, buckled again.
"Still got a fight in her, huh?" One sneered, kicking me hard across the chest. The impact winded me, stealing my breath, and I choked on a gasp.
Another slammed his boot down on my broken arm, a sickening crunch echoing in the narrow space. My vision exploded with pain.
I fell, face-first into the grimy puddles, tasting dirt and blood. My lungs burned, demanding air I couldn't find. The alley spun, blurred, and then went dark at the edges.
Suddenly, the night air ripped apart with the sharp crack of multiple gunshots, different from the ones fired by Zenkai's men.
"Get down!" A familiar voice, deep and urgent, cut through the chaos.
Through the haze of pain, I recognized the voice—Akaru. I turned to his direction and behind him were two more figures, following, each weapon spitting fire.
Zenkai's men, caught completely off guard, tried to counterattack.
The first man dragging me by the hair was shot by the throat and arms, red spray blossoming on the brick from him.
The second, yelling into his comms, took two to the chest before he could raise his gun. The other three, including the one with the thermal camera, tried to scatter, but they weren't fast enough.
Akaru was at my side in an instant, his face a mask of grim worry and barely concealed fury.
He knelt, his hands gently lifting my head from the mud. "Butterfly! Are you with me? Shit! What happened?"
I tried standing but my knees gave out, threatening to send me crashing to the ground.
Before I could fall, Akaru wrapped his arms around me, catching most of my weight.
At that moment, everything spun. I tried to speak, but only a choked sob escaped. My vision swam.
"She's lost too much blood. Get her in!" he barked at his men.
"Butterfly..." he murmured, his voice was laced with concern, a juxtaposition to the brutal scene we'd just left.
I was placed onto the cool leather seat with a groan that I could no longer suppress.
The doors slammed shut, sealing me inside this temporary safety. The engine rumbled to life, as it took us out of this hell I just escaped from.
"Butterfly! Your arm!—. Fuck…it's broken, stay still." Akaru's voice was brow tightly furrowed. He leaned close to my aiding to my wounds, his breath warm against my skin.
"I should have been the one to do this," He spat, the veins on his neck tightening.
"Then you would have died the moment you approached him," I managed.
"Look at you, are you far from death!" He rasped angrily, not at me, but at what had happened to me.
He ripped open the med kit, the frantic rustling of supplies echoing through the tense silence in the car. His fingers trembled as he probed my shattered limb, his touch surprisingly gentle amidst the urgency.
"Bandage. Pressure," he muttered, his brow furrowed as he concentrated on me, speaking more to himself than anyone else. "Why didn't you call for back-up—? Fuck, you're bleeding too much…" His voice cracked with a raw fear that mirrored my own.
From the seat directly across from me, another voice cut through the air, deep and cold as steel. Kenji, second-in-command under Akaru for the mission.
"What happened?" he demanded, his eyes narrowed with no hint of concern.
Not like I was expecting any.
"Status on Kastone. Is he dead? Answer me," he pressed further.
My breath hitched, a pained gasp that rattled in my chest. I tried to speak, to form the words of my failure, but my throat felt constricted. The idea of Zenkai still being alive morphed into a terrifying rage flashing behind my eyelids.
I was fifteen, when he massacred my family. The memory still clawed at the edges of my sanity.
Although I'm twenty-one, I am still fighting, clawing, bleeding to stay alive, not for myself, but for the fragile light to stay lit.
"Not now, Kenji," Akaru snapped, his attention still fixed on staunching the flow of blood from my side. He didn't even look up at Kenji. "She's barely breathing. Shut the hell up until we get to the clan."
"We need answers," Kenji insisted, his voice filled with impatience. "The boss will want a full report the moment we arrive—"
"She'll give it to him," Akaru retorted, his tone was laced with a protectiveness that surprised even me. "Not you."
A tense silence descended on the SUV. Only the hum of the tires against the asphalt and the sickening hiss of blood soaking through the makeshift bandages Akaru was applying filled the air.
I glanced at Akaru, he was still focused on my wounds, his brow furrowed in concentration, his lips pressed into a thin, worried line.
His hands pressed firmly against my side, trying to stem the bleeding, but I could feel the warmth seeping through the layers of fabric. He can't stop what's coming.
Zenkai is going to look for me with everything he has, even if that means turning this country inside out.
I have to be strong.
I have to protect him.
Even if it costs me everything.