That morning, Peter wore a long-sleeved black shirt, sensing that things were starting to heat up.
From the second-floor window of his hideout, he saw several police cars pulling up in front of the house. Officers stepped out, their expressions serious—they were here to arrest him.
"Damn, they move fast," he muttered, tightening his watch.
Zunafets stepped outside to confront the police. With a calm yet authoritative stance, he crossed his arms in front of them.
"Where is Peter Nimoowahc?" one of the officers demanded.
Zunafets shrugged. "He's gone. I haven't seen him."
Another officer stepped forward. "Don't lie, General. We know he's here."
Zunafets gave them a sharp look.
"If I say he's not here, then he's not here."
The officers hesitated. After all, Zunafets was still a powerful general.
Meanwhile, inside the house, Peter hid behind a wall. He could hear every word of their conversation.
His phone buzzed—a message from Optimus popped up.
"You safe? The cops are looking for you."
Peter typed back quickly. "Relax, I'm not getting caught that easily."
Before long, the police had no choice but to leave, unable to find any proof.
Zunafets stepped back inside, locking eyes with Peter as he emerged from hiding.
"You need to get out of this city for a while," he said seriously.
Peter chuckled, lighting a cigarette. "In a hurry, huh? I was just starting to have fun."
Zunafets sighed. "Peter, this isn't a game. You're officially an enemy of the state now."
Peter exhaled a cloud of smoke, then smirked.
"Haven't I always been?"
On the other side of the city, Odlan was about to enter his workplace. He parked his car in the underground parking lot as usual, not suspecting anything.
But just as he stepped out, a dark figure emerged from the shadows.
A man, dressed in black with a faint insignia of FTO, grabbed Odlan's arm and pressed a gun against his ribs.
"Don't move," the agent whispered coldly.
Odlan froze, feeling the cold steel against his body.
"What the hell do you want?" he muttered.
The agent smirked. "Call Peter Nimoowahc. Tell him to come here. Alone."
Odlan clenched his jaw. "And if I refuse?"
The agent pushed the gun harder against his ribs. "Then I'll paint these walls with your blood."
Odlan had no choice. With shaky hands, he dialed Peter's number.
"Yo, what's up?" Peter answered casually.
"Bro, I need you to come to the underground parking lot. Now." Odlan tried to keep his voice steady.
Peter frowned. "What? Why?"
"Just come. And don't ask questions."
Peter stayed silent for a moment, then sighed. "Fine. I'm on my way."
He hung up, grabbed his gun, and put on his hoodie.
Minutes later, Peter arrived. He walked cautiously into the parking lot, scanning every corner.
"Odlan?" he called out.
No response.
His sharp eyes darted around the dimly lit area, searching for any sign of his friend.
Then, out of the shadows, he saw it—
A gun pressed against Odlan's head.
Peter's body tensed.
A man in black stepped forward, smirking.
"Peter Nimoowahc," the agent greeted. "Nice of you to join us."
Peter stepped forward calmly, his sharp eyes locked onto the FTO agent in front of him.
"Let him go. We'll settle this right here," he said firmly.
The agent smirked. "You want to make a deal?"
Peter lifted his chin. "If you can beat me without a gun, you can take me."
The agents exchanged glances, then one of them chuckled.
"How about this?" he said, pulling out a long-bladed knife.
Peter glanced at the knife briefly and just raised an eyebrow. "Fine. Better than a gun."
The agent lunged forward, thrusting the knife straight at Peter's stomach.
But Peter dodged swiftly, stepping to the side and grabbing the agent's wrist firmly.
In a split second, he twisted the man's arm and slammed his elbow into his face.
Blood splattered. The agent staggered back, his nose breaking instantly.
Without hesitation, Peter snatched the knife and flung it away.
Two more agents charged at him.
Peter dodged the first punch and blocked the second with his forearm. He leapt up and kicked one agent square in the chest, sending him crashing into a car.
The last agent tried to attack from behind, but Peter spun around quickly and delivered a crushing punch to his jaw.
CRACK! The agent collapsed.
Now, only one remained—the one still holding a gun to Odlan's head.
Peter smirked, wiping the blood from the corner of his lips.
"Still relying on a gun?" he mocked.
The agent swallowed hard. His hands trembled slightly.
Odlan seized the moment. He elbowed the agent's stomach, snatched the gun, and kicked him to the ground.
Peter walked over and crouched in front of the fallen agent.
"You remember the deal, right?" he whispered.
The agent glared at him but said nothing.
Peter stood up, glancing at Odlan.
"Let's go," he said as if nothing had happened.
As soon as Peter took down the last agent, suddenly, more FTO agents arrived.
Peter gritted his teeth, wiping the blood from his lips. He could barely catch his breath before the next fight began.
"Odlan, get in the car and leave! NOW!" Peter shouted.
Odlan hesitated."What about you?!"
"Just go! I'll handle them!" Peter barked.
Odlan clenched his fists but obeyed, jumping into his car and speeding away.
Peter turned back to face the new enemies. They weren't holding guns at first—only knives and metal pipes.
"You guys never learn," Peter muttered, rolling his shoulders.
The agents lunged at him.
A brutal fight broke out. Peter dodged, countered, and struck back with all his might, but the sheer number of opponents overwhelmed him.
A blade slashed across his leg.
A pipe smashed against his back.
A knife cut into his arm.
Blood dripped from his wounds. His body screamed in pain, but he clenched his jaw and kept fighting.
Then—they pulled out their guns.
Peter's eyes widened. Shit.
Without thinking, he sprinted, diving behind a parked car as bullets rained down.
His breathing was ragged. Blood soaked his clothes. His vision blurred.
He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone with trembling hands.
The first name on his screen was Enimsya.
His thumb hovered over it for a second.
Then—he tapped it.
The phone rang.
After a few seconds, Enimsya's voice came through.
"Peter?"
His throat was dry, his body weak, but he forced himself to speak.
"Come get me... I'm at the underground parking lot near the old factory... If you don't, I might not make it."
Silence.
Then—the call ended.
Peter leaned his head against the car, trying to stay conscious.
All he could do now—was wait.
The FTO agents searched every car in the parking garage, yanking open doors one by one.
"Find him! He can't be far!" one of them shouted.
Peter held his breath, pressing against the wound on his side, blood seeping through his fingers. He crouched behind a black SUV, waiting for a chance to escape.
BANG!
A gunshot echoed through the garage, shattering a car window nearby. Glass rained down onto the concrete floor.
"Damn it..." Peter muttered, hunching lower.
THUD!
An agent kicked open a car door nearby. They were closing in.
Then suddenly—
VROOOOM!!!
An engine roared through the parking lot.
Bright headlights flooded the dim garage.
Peter squinted against the glare.
Behind the wheel—Enimsya.
The car skidded to a stop right in front of him.
The passenger door swung open.
"Get in!" Enimsya shouted.
Peter gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain, and sprinted forward.
The agents realized what was happening.
"SHOOT HIM!"
BANG! BANG!
Bullets ripped through the air, hitting the car.
Peter dove into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut.
"Go! Now!" he yelled.
Without hesitation, Enimsya slammed the gas pedal.
Tires screeched, and the car sped out of the parking garage.
They had escaped.
Enimsya gripped the steering wheel tightly, her heart still pounding from the chase. Her eyes flickered toward Peter—his black shirt soaked in blood, his breathing uneven, his face pale.
She bit her lip, hesitating for a moment before saying, "We need to go to a hospital."
Peter kept his eyes closed, exhaling sharply."No."
"Peter, you're bleeding too much!" she insisted.
"Take me to Celya," Peter muttered. "She can handle this kind of thing."
Enimsya clenched her jaw. "Why not the hospital?"
Peter half-opened his eyes, his blue gaze dull from exhaustion."I don't want to involve my brother… and I don't want to trouble you either."
Enimsya's hands tightened on the wheel. She didn't respond.
Instead, she turned the car sharply at the next intersection—heading straight for Celya's place.
At the hideout, Celya was already prepared with her medical kit when Enimsya and Peter arrived.
Peter could barely stand, blood soaking through his black shirt. Enimsya helped him inside while Celya rushed over, her face filled with concern.
"Oh my God, Peter! What happened?!" she asked, panicked.
Peter just gave a weak smirk. "Just a little problem," he muttered before nearly losing his balance.
Celya and Enimsya quickly supported him to the couch. Celya immediately ripped open Peter's shirt, revealing deep wounds on his arm, back, and leg. Some of the blood had dried, but other wounds were still fresh.
"You're insane, Peter," Celya muttered while grabbing her medical tools. "Why didn't you go to a hospital?"
"I can't," Peter replied shortly. His eyes flicked toward Enimsya for a second before closing them again, bracing himself as Celya began treating his wounds.
Enimsya stood in the corner, her hands clenched into fists, her heart uneasy seeing Peter like this. She wanted to say something but held back.
The room filled with the sounds of bandages being wrapped, the smell of alcohol, and Peter's heavy breathing.
After a while, Celya finally sighed, "Done. But you need to rest, Peter. Don't move too much."
Peter gave a weak nod. "Thanks, Cel."
Celya gave him a sharp look. "Don't just say thanks. Stop making us worry!"
Peter gave a faint smile. But behind that smile, his mind was already working—thinking about his next move.
Peter took a deep breath, feeling the sting of his wounds. He looked up at Enimsya, his blue eyes serious despite his exhaustion.
"Enimsya, come here," he said, his voice lower than usual.
Enimsya hesitated but walked closer.
Peter leaned forward slightly, ignoring the pain, and spoke in a quiet but firm tone. "I need you to do me a favor."
Enimsya crossed her arms. "What is it?"
Peter looked her straight in the eyes. "Don't tell my brother about this. Don't tell anyone. Just act like nothing happened."
Enimsya's brows furrowed. "Are you serious right now? You were nearly killed, Peter. Zunafets has a right to know!"
Peter shook his head. "No. If he finds out, he'll get involved. And I don't want that." He leaned back, wincing slightly. "I can handle this on my own."
Enimsya exhaled sharply, looking away. "You're so stubborn."
Peter gave a small smirk. "That's why I need you to keep this secret."
She hesitated for a moment, then finally sighed. "Fine. But if this gets worse, I'm not keeping quiet."
Peter nodded. "Fair enough."
Celya, who had been watching silently, finally spoke. "You're really going to keep this a secret?"
Enimsya turned to her. "I don't like it either, but Peter won't listen."
Celya scoffed. "He never does."
Peter chuckled slightly, then leaned back again, closing his eyes. "Thanks, Enimsya."
Enimsya watched him, a mix of frustration and concern in her eyes. She knew this wouldn't be the end of it.
Somewhere else, Odlan got into his car, his breath ragged. His hands trembled as he fumbled for his phone and quickly dialed Optimus.
"Pick up... pick up..." he muttered, starting the engine.
After a few seconds, Optimus' voice came through. "Hello? What's up, Lan?"
"Big problem, bro. Peter just got attacked by FTO agents!" Odlan's voice was frantic.
"WHAT?!" Optimus shot up from his seat in the garage. "Is he okay?!"
"I don't know! He told me to escape first. I couldn't help!"
"Damn it!" Optimus cursed. "Do you have any idea where he went?"
Odlan shook his head, even though Optimus couldn't see him. "Not sure. But before I left, I saw him calling someone… Maybe Enimsya."
Optimus exhaled sharply. "Alright. I'll try to find out. You head home, don't wander around. If you hear anything, call me immediately!"
"Okay, bro. Be careful."
Optimus ended the call, his jaw clenched. He quickly pulled off his work apron and rushed out of the garage. He knew this wasn't over. If Peter was in serious trouble, they had to act fast.
Enimsya sat outside, staring at the dark sky. The cold air brushed against her skin, but her mind was too tangled to care.
Celya sat beside her, arms crossed. She tilted her head, observing Enimsya before finally breaking the silence.
"So... you're really married now?" Celya asked casually, but there was a hint of curiosity in her tone.
Enimsya hesitated, her fingers gripping the fabric of her dress. "Yeah... I guess."
Celya raised an eyebrow. "You guess? That doesn't sound very convincing."
Enimsya let out a shaky breath. "It's complicated."
Celya smirked, shaking her head. "Everything about Peter is complicated. And yet, here you are, sitting outside his hideout while your husband probably has no idea where you are."
Enimsya turned to her, eyes filled with conflict. "Why does it feel like you're judging me?"
"Because I am," Celya answered bluntly. "Look, I don't know the full story between you and Peter, and honestly, I don't care. But if you're here right now, looking all guilty and sad while he's inside, half-dead and still thinking about protecting you... Then yeah, I have a problem with that."
Enimsya swallowed hard. She hated how much Celya's words stung. Because deep down, she knew she was right.
Enimsya looked at Celya with curiosity. "When did you two become this close?" she asked, trying to understand their relationship.
Celya leaned back in her chair, shrugging. "When I went to a club and happened to meet him there. Turns out, we were in the same high school, but we just knew each other, not really close."
Enimsya frowned. "Seriously? So, you've known each other since high school?"
Celya nodded with a small smile. "Yeah, but only by name. Peter was that kind of guy—too mysterious to approach. Cold, didn't talk much, and always seemed like he had his own world. So, we never really talked."
Enimsya studied her expression. "Then… how did you two get this close?"
Celya smirked slightly. "Because I understand him, and he understands me. Sometimes, you don't need a long time to get close to someone—as long as you know how to step into their world."
Enimsya fell silent. Celya's words hit her deep. She used to think she was the only one who truly understood Peter. But now, she realized someone else had also managed to enter his world.
Suddenly, Optimus arrived, stepping into the dimly lit area with his usual confident stride.
"Yo, Celya!" he greeted with a grin, casually bumping fists with her.
Celya chuckled. "Took you long enough. You missed all the action."
Optimus smirked. "Yeah, yeah, Odlan called me. Where's Peter?"
Before Celya could answer, his gaze landed on Enimsya. His smile faltered for a split second, and an awkward tension settled between them. Unlike his usual playful self, Optimus suddenly seemed a little stiff.
Enimsya noticed the change in his demeanor. She knew why. Ever since Peter got hurt—emotionally and physically—things had never been the same.
Optimus cleared his throat and turned back to Celya. "I'll go check on him." Without waiting for a reply, he stepped inside, leaving the two women in silence.
Celya raised an eyebrow, glancing at Enimsya. "Well, that was awkward."
Enimsya exhaled, gripping the edge of her seat. "I know… He's been avoiding me ever since that day."
Celya leaned forward, studying her. "Do you regret it?"
Enimsya didn't answer immediately. Instead, she looked down, lost in thought.
Celya patted Enimsya's shoulder gently, trying to comfort her.
"Let it go," she said casually. "Peter will find his own life… and his own soulmate."
Enimsya let out a deep sigh. "I know… but it still feels strange."
Celya leaned back in her chair. "Strange how?"
Enimsya bit her lip, her gaze distant. "I chose this path, but why does it feel like I lost something much bigger?"
Celya gave her a sharp look. "Maybe because you weren't actually ready to lose him."
Those words hit Enimsya like a soft slap. She fell silent, fidgeting with her fingers.
From inside the house, the muffled voices of Optimus and Peter could be heard. Their conversation sounded serious, but it wasn't clear what they were talking about.
Celya glanced toward the door. "Stop overthinking. Peter is strong. He'll be fine."
Enimsya turned to look at Celya, who gave her a small smile.
But for some reason, a part of her doubted those words.
Enimsya, feeling thirsty, walked to the kitchen to get a drink. As she passed the hallway, she accidentally overheard a conversation coming from the room where Peter and Optimus were talking.
"I have to leave this city," Peter's voice was calm but firm. "FTO is getting crazier, and now the police are even more aggressive in chasing me."
Optimus sighed. "Where will you go?"
"I don't know yet," Peter replied. "Somewhere quiet, where I can disappear for a while. I need time to figure out my next move."
"Does Zunafets know?" Optimus asked.
"Yeah, he knows," Peter nodded. "And as expected, he doesn't agree. But this time, I've already made my decision."
"He'll try to stop you," Optimus said.
Peter smirked. "He's my brother. He cares. But this is the path I have to take."
"And... Enimsya?" Optimus' voice held hesitation.
Peter went silent for a moment before answering, "She made her choice. This isn't her concern anymore."
Enimsya froze, her heart pounding faster. She tightened her grip on the glass in her hand.
Hearing those words, she felt a heavy weight in her chest. She bit her lip, holding herself back from reacting.
She didn't know why, but realizing that Peter was truly leaving this time felt far heavier than she had imagined.
Suddenly, Enimsya's phone vibrated with a notification. She glanced at the screen and saw an anonymous message. The subject line made her heart race: "Your husband is cheating."
With shaky hands, she opened the message. It contained a video file. Enimsya hesitated for a moment before tapping play.
The footage was grainy, likely recorded from a hidden camera. It showed Eduardo in a dimly lit club, his arm draped around a woman—not just any woman, but someone she recognized. One of his colleagues. They were laughing, whispering intimately, and then… they kissed.
Enimsya's grip on her phone tightened. Her breath hitched, and her chest felt hollow.
"That bastard..." she whispered under her breath.
Celya noticed the sudden shift in Enimsya's expression. "Hey, what's wrong?"
Enimsya locked her phone, her hands trembling slightly. "Nothing. I just... I need some air."
Without waiting for a response, she walked outside, her mind spiraling.
Who sent the video? And why now?
But the biggest question haunting her was—why didn't she feel heartbroken? Instead, all she felt was anger... and an undeniable sense of relief.
Enimsya walked out quickly, the cold night air brushing against her skin. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her restless thoughts.
"It's time..." she murmured softly. "I need to end this marriage. This arranged marriage was nothing but a nightmare."
Her hands clenched into fists as she thought about everything she had endured. She had once obeyed her family's wishes, but now? Not anymore.
She opened her car door, got in, and started the engine. With a deep breath, she drove into the quiet city streets.
One name kept crossing her mind—Peter.
She didn't know what the future held, but there was a possibility… maybe, just maybe… she and Peter still had a chance.