Huang Jiang's POV:
The citadel's core was a tomb of smoke and blood, the air heavy with the stench of gunpowder and despair as General Zhao's men pinned us down. My arms ached, trembling as I held Yue against me, her frail body shaking, her breaths shallow against my chest. Yanyan struggled in their grip, her machete ripped away, her eyes blazing with a fury that tore at my heart—my granddaughter, fierce and unbroken, now a prisoner in her own birthright. Haoyu was beside her, his knife gone, blood streaking his face as he fought their hold, while Yang Wei slumped against the wall, his chest a ruin of red, his defiance fading with every ragged breath. We'd lost—Island B, our fight, everything—and the weight of it crushed me.
"Stop!" Zhao's voice boomed again, cold and commanding, his pistol steady on Yanyan's head, his scarred face a mask of triumph. "Surrender—or she dies first."
