Phoebe's POV
The small gourd bomb's blast forced everyone hiding in that cramped room to flee before the explosion consumed them, all fighting to save themselves.
Chester was among those who came rushing out.
He stood barely 5'7", a wiry man flanked by two bodyguards who shielded him like he was some fragile bird.
The moment the stall door shut, I pressed my gun's cold barrel against the left bodyguard's forehead.
"Don't move," I said, my voice cutting through the tension.
Both bodyguards went rigid, their faces draining of color when they spotted the gourd-shaped bombs dangling from my belt.
Abandoning their boss without a second thought, they threw their hands up in surrender.
When Chester finally recognized me, his face went ghost-white. "B... Phoebe?"
"Shocked? You knew I'd come for you eventually, didn't you?" I let out a soft laugh.
But to Chester, it must have sounded like death itself calling his name.
