Wu Haoyu's POV:
The throne room doors loomed ahead, heavy and scarred, Li Mei's taunt echoing through the radio—"Beijing's fleet—five minutes out. You've lost."—a knife twisting in my gut. My hands tightened around my knife, slick with blood—mine, theirs, I couldn't tell anymore—as I stood beside Yanyan, her machete dripping, her shoulder bleeding where Li Mei's shot had grazed her. Yang Wei leaned against me, his chest a mess of blood from Xie Liang's bullet, but his eyes burned, alive, defiant. We'd fought our way here, cut through her men, but Beijing's ships were coming, and we were running out of everything—time, bullets, hope.
"Haoyu!" Yanyan's voice snapped me back, sharp and fierce, her eyes locked on the doors. "She's in there—we end this now!"
