If you only knew...

65.Failure

Xavier's POV

I steal one last glance into the guardman's eyes—my own filled with a mix of fear and resignation. With a shuddering breath, I close my eyes and brace myself for the inevitable sound of gunfire.

But instead of that piercing bang, his deep voice cuts through the tension. "Don't you want to talk to me? What's a kid like you doing in a place like this?"

"Just do it," I whisper, my tone laced with defiance. "Stop asking questions."

To my surprise, he withdraws the gun from my temple, his hand gripping my shoulder as he suddenly pulls me toward the door. "You're close to my son's age. You shouldn't be caught up in something like this. I don't know what brought you to this place, but you're too young for these kinds of wounds and this kind of life. You need to run away from here—and never look back!"

My eyes widen in shock at his unexpected words. In a place dominated by ruthless men, his statement catches me completely off guard. A wave of relief washes over me, so intense that I struggle to catch my breath. My anxiety spikes as the adrenaline fades, leaving me momentarily speechless.

As I wobble, disoriented from the dizziness, he notices my struggle just as he finally loosens his grip on my shoulder. His tone shifts to one of urgency as he says, "You don't look well enough to make a run for it. Come here."

Before I can protest, he pulls me back from the door. "I'll go first and create a distraction for my coworkers. That'll give you the chance you need. You'll have a clear shot in about ten minutes. And remember—once you're out, don't ever look back!"

"Why?" I quietly ask, my voice filled with confusion.

"Consider yourself fortunate that I was the one to find you. I can't kill kids. But my other colleagues? They wouldn't have thought twice about shooting you. Perhaps this time, luck—or maybe God—was on your side."

"I'm not a kid. I'm as much of a sinner as anyone here."

He chuckles, a hint of disbelief in his eyes. "I don't know your story, but to me, you're still just a kid—one who should keep his hands clean and stay far from this chaos. This life is a trap; you need to escape while you still can."

I lock eyes with him, unwavering. "If you genuinely want to help me, then tell me everything you know about that illegal shipment of kids."

His expression shifts to shock. "What? You're aware of it?!" His voice rises in alarm. "Is that what you're after? Stay away from this! I'm giving you a chance to run!"

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "I appreciate the offer, but I'll handle this on my own." With that, I snatch my blood-stained jacket from the floor, determination flooding my veins as I dash toward the door.

With a swift motion, he lunges at me, yanking me backward. Instinctively, I level my gun at him, eyeing him fiercely. "Let me go!" I say, my voice sharp and filled with determination.

"Your stubbornness is going to kill you!" he growls, his voice low and filled with intensity.

"It's no longer your concern."

"You're so determined to bring these men down, aren't you?" He locks eyes with me, his expression grave. I hold my gun steady, unwavering in my resolve. After a moment of tense silence, he leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I can bring you something useful. Just stay here and keep quiet while I'm gone."

He darts out of the room, leaving me still processing the surprise of his unexpected help. I tighten the jacket around my injury, the fabric offering a semblance of comfort but not quite enough to mask the sharp stabs of pain. Both wounds—the one on my arm and the other on my wrist—throb insistently. A knot of anxiety twists in my stomach as I realize they might become infected if I don't tend to them soon.