The warehouse was silent except for the slow drip of water from the leaking pipe.
The masked figure walked away, his footsteps echoing through the carnage.
In his hand, the curved ornamental sword gleamed dully under the flickering lights.
He paused once, glancing back at Kyle's lifeless body sprawled across the cracked concrete.
Then, without another thought, he vanished into the shadows.
Five minutes passed since Kyle death.
Then—
A twitch.
Kyle's fingers jerked against the cold floor.
His chest suddenly heaved. A wet, choking gasp tearing from his lips as his lungs fought for air.
Blood sprayed from his mouth, splattering the ground beside him.
His vision swam. The world tilting violently as consciousness returned in a nauseating wave.
"Fuck…" he cursed, his voice raw.
Every breath sent fresh agony through his shattered ribs.
His left arm gone, severed just below the elbow, throbbed with phantom pain.
