Chapter 128. The Cold Night Air

Victor’s laughter didn’t stop, even as Anna doubled over, her body convulsing as she emptied the contents of her stomach onto the cold, unforgiving floor. 

The metallic scent of blood mixed with the acrid stench of bile, and for a moment, everything spun around her.

She had shot him. She had really shot him. 

Not in the head, not in the heart. But she had shot him.

The man groaned, clutching his bleeding stomach, his body writhing in agony. His breath was uneven, desperate gasps of air escaping his lips as he tried to process the pain. 

His wide eyes darted from Anna to Victor, pleading for mercy. But there was none in this room.

Victor leaned forward, his smirk widening. “That,” he drawled, “was a sight to see.” He turned toward the scarred guard standing beside the injured man. “Patch him up. Don’t let him die.”

The guard nodded and crouched beside the bleeding man, pulling out a roll of bandages and a small medical kit. 

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