Rain slammed against the windscreen in wild sheets, a river turned vertical. Bai Xueyi's hands were steady on the wheel, her pulse anything but. The garage exit loomed ahead—closed. A heavy steel barrier, red lights flashing LOCKDOWN.
"Of course," she muttered.
Behind her, the black van accelerated, headlights slicing through the gloom. She flicked the gearshift, spun the car into a hard drift, and tore down the secondary ramp. Sparks flew where metal scraped concrete.
The voice in her ear—an automated system Liuxian had linked to the company network—crackled:
"Unauthorized pursuit detected. Security override disabled."
"Then we do this my way," she whispered.
She jerked the handbrake, sent the car into a spin that slammed the van against a pillar. Metal screamed; smoke filled the air. Before it could recover, she bolted out of the driver's seat and sprinted toward the freight lifts.
On the upper floors, Mo Liuxian was already running. The security guards called after him, but he didn't stop. He punched the elevator override, watching the numbers plummet. His reflection stared back—drenched in sweat, haunted.
"She dies again," he whispered, "and I go with her."
Basement Level 3.
The freight door creaked open. Xueyi slipped inside the narrow loading bay. Her heels clicked once before she pulled them off and ran barefoot through puddles. A shadow flickered behind her—Han Ze's men fanning out, guns low and silent.
She ducked behind a stack of crates, pulling a small flash drive from her pocket. The same one she'd stolen from Liuxian's office. If she survived this, it might be the key to everything.
One of the men whispered into his radio. "Target cornered."
"Alive," Han Ze's voice replied. "For now."
Xueyi smiled faintly. You never did learn, Echo.
She grabbed a loose steel pipe and slammed it into the fire alarm. The piercing shriek filled the bay, and the sprinklers erupted. Rain again—man-made this time. Steam rose where bullets met water. She used the chaos to bolt toward the emergency exit.
The door burst open ahead of her—Mo Liuxian stood there, drenched, furious.
"Get down!" he shouted.
He fired a warning shot over her shoulder; the pursuing men froze. His security clearance had given him control of the building's internal system—he hit the lockdown on the chase corridor, trapping the attackers behind a steel barrier.
She stared at him, chest heaving. "You came."
"You think I'd let you burn twice?"
A tremor ran through her—not from fear, but from something she didn't want to name.
"You shouldn't have," she said.
"Probably," he replied. "But I did."
He pulled her toward the exit. "Move."
They burst out into the rain-soaked street just as the van detonated behind them, a bloom of orange fire tearing the night apart. The shockwave threw them both to the ground. He shielded her with his body until the flames dimmed to ash.
For a long moment neither spoke. The world shrank to their breathing and the patter of rain.
Then she pushed him off gently. "You saved me."
"Don't thank me yet," he said. "This was just round one."
She looked at him, eyes glinting beneath wet lashes. "And when the next round comes?"
"Then we stop running and start hunting."
He extended his hand. Not as a lover's gesture—but a pact.
After a beat, she took it.
Across the city, Han Ze watched the explosion on a monitor inside an unmarked van. The signal flickered once, then cut to black. He smiled, unbothered.
"Let them live," he murmured. "Ghosts make better bait than corpses."
He dialed a number—Wen Qingmei answered, her tone sharp.
"You failed."
"No," he said smoothly. "I just made the game interesting."