MAFIA'S WRONG TARGET

24: LOCKED AND LOADED

SYBIL'S POV

Hunter's penthouse,
06:39 PM

The gunshot echoed in my nightmare, and I sat up screaming, all soaked in my sweat. I was breathing heavily, my heart was thumping loudly against my chest.

I gulped my saliva down my dry throat, the realization washing over me like a cold wave-l wasn't tied up with anything.

I looked over to the window, the sun, a fiery orb descending toward the horizon, peeked through the slightly parted, thick curtains, casting long shadows across the floor.

It felt surreal as I was witnessing the sky after decades. My vision remained slightly blurry, a haze that clouded my understanding of this strange new reality.

As I shifted the pure white sheet that had cocooned me in its softness, I hesitated, my feet meeting the chilling floor with a sharp intake of breath. The coldness sent a jolt through my body, awakening senses that had long been dulled.

I walked cautiously toward the door, using the wall for support, each step a careful negotiation with the unfamiliarity of my surroundings. My gaze was fixed on my tiptoed bare feet, the silence of the room amplifying the whispers of my movements. I didn't want to break the stillness; it felt sacred and fragile.

Then, I flinched at my reflection as I approached a large mirror nestled between the dark walls. The sight was jarring, a stranger looking back at me. I panted softly, my breath hitching in my throat as I took in the image before me. It had been so long since I had seen myself.

I reached out, fingers trembling, to touch my face. The skin was stretched taut and pale, a canvas marred by scars that told silent stories of pain and survival. I was skinnier now, a shadow of the person I once was. A wave of emotions surged within me-fear, confusion, and an overwhelming sense of loss.

Who was I now? The reflection stared back, a haunting reminder of the journey I had endured, leaving me to grapple with the question: could I ever truly find myself again?

The train of my thoughts came to a halt as the unmistakable roar of a sports car echoed nearby. I pressed my ear against the door, but silence enveloped me; no voices drifted through.

Tentatively, I reached for the knob and turned it, surprised to find the door unlocked. With a cautious hand, I pushed it open, trying to make as little noise as possible, and peeked my head outside.

What greeted me was anything but ordinary. I stood in a dark, luxurious apartment, facing a deep, light corridor. The room I was in seemed to be the back of the apartment.

As I moved cautiously, I realized that the interior was devoid of any security presence. Still, I pressed my back against the wall, inching my way toward the end of the corridor. I realized I was blindly heading towards the main door.

Just as I was nearing my destination, a voice called out from the other side of the door as if searching for someone. I couldn't quite catch the name, but the voice felt strangely familiar. The voices turned into voices as if someone was fighting their way in. Then someone began to bang on the door with such force that it started to shake.

In a rush, I ducked behind a pillar that stood prominently in the middle of the vast hall, holding my breath as I listened intently.

"Come out!" A manly voice called out, his voice echoing with a curse laced with frustration. And then the door slammed open, making me push myself to the piller more.

Whoever was it got the guts to get into King's house.

I cautiously peeked around the pillar and caught sight of a tall man facing a door that was bigger than any other room's door.