You're Mine, I'm Yours II

Part 26

The living room was drenched in shadows, the soft flicker of the old television offering little warmth to the cold stillness that hung in the air. Khaotung sat stiffly on the worn couch, the bandages on his hands stark against the dim light, his fingers twitching as if gripping onto invisible threads of control. Across from him, Khanna paced, the floorboards creaking softly beneath her steps. She had turned the volume of the television up, hoping the cheerful voices from the screen would drown out the tension between them and the unease in her chest. But even with the chatter, the silence between them felt louder.

Khaotung's eyes were unfocused, fixed somewhere past the screen, his mind miles away. Every muscle in his body was taut, his thoughts consumed by memories of First-the warmth of his gaze, the strength of his embrace, the promises whispered in stolen moments. But now, those memories felt like distant echoes, drowned out by the sharp pangs of guilt and fear that clung to him like a second skin.

"Khao," Khanna called softly, breaking the silence. He didn't respond, his stare still vacant, lost in a sea of turmoil. Her heart ached for her brother, but she didn't know how to pull him back from the storm raging inside him. She glanced at the knife she had left on the counter earlier and quickly pushed the thought away.

Suddenly, a low, distant hum cut through the room, faint at first but growing louder, sharper. Khanna stilled, her instincts immediately on edge. She moved toward the window, pulling back the curtain slightly to peer outside. Her breath hitched, her chest tightening as she spotted the source of the noise.

A helicopter. Its blades sliced through the air, descending into the clearing just beyond the treeline. The moonlight glinted off the sleek, black body of the chopper as it touched down, the roaring wind kicking up leaves and dust. Two men stepped out, their silhouettes stark against the glow of the floodlights on the aircraft. Khanna's stomach churned as the light caught the emblems stitched onto their dark suits-Kanaphan's mercenaries.

"Shit," Khanna hissed under her breath, dropping the curtain and whirling around. She rushed to the door, twisting the lock and shoving a chair against the handle for good measure. "Khao," she said urgently, her voice breaking through his trance. "It's not Father's people. They found us."

Khaotung's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he registered her words. He stood quickly, the lethargy gone, replaced by grim determination. His gaze darted around the room, searching for something, anything, to defend themselves with. "It's not First either," he muttered, his tone dark. There was a flicker of anguish in his voice, quickly masked by resolve.

Khanna returned from the kitchen, gripping a large knife tightly in her hand. "We need to move," she said, though her voice betrayed her uncertainty. The heavy sound of boots on gravel reached their ears, followed by the unmistakable creak of the front steps.

Khaotung's fingers closed around a heavy vase from the shelf, the ceramic cold and solid in his hands. The pounding on the door began-a loud, insistent force that sent vibrations through the walls. The siblings exchanged a glance, their fear unspoken but shared.

"Think, think!" Khaotung whispered fiercely, his grip tightening on the vase. The pounding grew louder, more desperate. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, his pulse quickening as the door rattled violently under the force of the intruders' fists.

The pounding stopped, leaving a tense silence in its wake. But the reprieve was brief. A sharp bang shattered the quiet, the lock exploding as the door swung open violently. Two figures stepped into the room, their movements swift, their presence commanding. The first man was tall and broad-shouldered, his face obscured by the dim light, while the second man moved with a dangerous, deliberate precision.