Page 94 of Billionaire’s Ruin

On the top floor, Dave booted the door open.

Chaos exploded outward.

Bodies scattered everywhere—Mrs. Li’s men, judging by their suits—strewn across the tiles, some groaning, some unconscious, some frighteningly still. Dark streaks of red stained the tiles. A haze of smoke clung to the air, leaving a bitter sting on my tongue.

Dave’s team snapped into action instantly—guns up, voices sharp.

“Clear!”

“Clear!”

“Move!”

Room after room.

Door after door.

All of them wrecked—splintered furniture, shattered glass glittering like ice underfoot, violent smears of struggle marking the walls.

Then we reached the last door.

Dave shoved it open, and the world tilted.

A padded room.

Foam-lined walls swallowed the sound. Straps dangled limply from the bed, buckles glinting under the flickering fluorescent light. The air was thick with disinfectant—cold, chemical, sanitized.

Wrong.

My stomach dropped. A chilling wave of nausea rolled through me. The room felt alive, like the walls remembered the screams, the fear, the madness that had seeped into them.

But the room was empty.

No Lucy.

No Mrs. Li.

No Kai.

A tight hitch clawed up my throat.

“Where is he?” I demanded, my voice cracking under the weight of terror I couldn’t hide. “Where is Kai?”

No one answered.

Everyone was moving, shouting, checking the injured, calling out commands—but all I could see were the empty spaces where he wasn’t.

Gone.

Dave finally turned toward me. His expression was a grim slash across his face.

“He’s not here,” he said quietly. “They moved him.”

“No.” My head shook—instinctively, violently. “No, that’s not possible. Lucy—she’s supposed to be on our side—she⁠—”

But the words died halfway, freezing on my tongue.

Because even as I tried to defend her, dread curled, cold and sharp in my gut.