Huang Jiang's POV
The warehouse echoed with the fading cracks of gunfire, the air thick with dust and the sharp tang of blood. My knees ached against the cold concrete as I crouched beside Yue, her frail frame pressed against me, her breaths shallow but steady. Her head rested on my shoulder, her blood-streaked face a map of the hell she'd endured, and I held her tighter, my arm a shield against the world that kept trying to tear her away. I'd lost her once—twenty years of guilt and silence—and now, with bullets still ringing in my ears, I swore I'd never let her go again.
