Wu Qiang's POV:
The safehouse air turned thick with Lao Zhang's words—"They're hitting Island B. Tomorrow—full assault. A coup."—each syllable a hammer blow against the fragile calm we'd scraped together. My arm throbbed where the bullet had grazed it, the makeshift bandage soaked through, but I ignored it, my grip tightening on the pistol I'd just cleaned. We'd fought our way out of Shanghai's jaws—bloodied, battered, but alive—and now this. Li Mei wasn't just hunting Yanyan; she was gunning for a throne, and we were a heartbeat away from losing everything.
"Tomorrow?" Yanyan's voice cut through the stunned silence, sharp and fierce, her fists clenched at her sides. "They're moving that fast?"
"Fast and hard," Lao Zhang said, his face grim as he set the cracked radio on the table, its static hum a taunt. "Caught the tail end of Xie Liang's signal—Li Mei's got ships, men, weapons lined up. Beijing's bankrolling it, and they're not screwing around."
