Huang Yanyan's POV:
The night was a damn circus—Fengrui's armored truck barreling toward us, Liang's bikes roaring like a pack of wolves, and now this chick, Yang Mei, claiming she's my aunt, rolling in with her own crew like some badass cavalry. Her words still rang in my ears: Tian's won the council. We're all targets now. My head throbbed from that rifle whack earlier, my shoulder burned where the bullet grazed me, but I tightened my grip on the crowbar, staring down Fengrui's headlights. If Island B wanted a war, they'd get one—hood style.
"Targets?" I shouted over the chaos, glaring at Yang Mei as she swung off her bike. She was all edges—sharp jaw like Yang Wei's, hair whipping in the wind, eyes cold and calculating. "What's that mean, Auntie? Grandpa's throwing a tantrum?"
"No time!" she snapped, drawing a sleek pistol from her hip. "Tian's flipped the council—bought 'em with promises and guns. They've disowned Yang Wei, branded us traitors. Fengrui's their errand boy now."
