She moves like she’s been waiting for this a long time—precise, brutal. Her fist slams into Glory’s ribs once. Twice.
A sharp, wet crack echoes.
Glory wheezes, her body folding, but she claws back—grabbing at Leila’s hair, nails scraping skin, landing wild, sloppy hits that barely connect.
Leila takes them like they’re nothing. Then drives her knee straight into Glory’s stomach. Air leaves her in a broken gasp.
Another hit. Another crack.
By the time it’s over, Glory is barely standing.
Leila grips her by the hair, yanking her down, forcing her onto her knees. Right in front of her.
Glory sways, blood dripping from her split lip, her breaths shallow and uneven.
Leila smirks down at her. Cold and cruel. “This must be a very comfortable position for you, huh, Susanne?”
Glory lets out a weak, guttural laugh, her head lolling slightly. “W-Wolf is v-very familiar w-with looking at m-me like this.” Her pathetic words slur together. Then she laughs again, but it breaks into a cough. Blood spills from her mouth.
Leila tilts her head, something dark flickering in her eyes. “Is he now?” she murmurs, voice dipping lower. “I’m guessing, then he’d usually keep your mouth shut.”
My heart slams against my ribs. Because I see the shift. The moment something inside Leila snaps.
Her hand moves to the back of her jeans and she pulls out her gun. Before I can even breathe, she shoves it into Glory’s mouth. Hard. “Oh Susie,” Leila whispers, almost gently, “nowthatmust be very familiar.”
Glory’s eyes go wide. Fear floods them—real and raw.
She gurgles around the barrel, shaking her head frantically, tears spilling down her cheeks.
Leila isn’t even looking at her anymore. Her gaze is distant. Empty with a cold, violent haze.
Like Glory isn’t even a person. Just… a thing. A target. A memory.
Crack!
The sound explodes through the hall. I flinch violently.
Glory’s body jerks—then stills. Her eyes go glassy before red floods them. Then she drops sideways. Lifeless.
Silence crashes down around us.
For a moment, Leila doesn’t move. She just stands there. Gun still raised. Breathing steady.
Then, slowly, she crouches. Wipes the barrel of her gun against Glory’s shirt.
My entire body trembles, rooted in place. But the fear clawing through me is not for her.
Leila straightens, turning toward me. Her gaze shaky yet still detached. Then it flicks past me and her chin lifts slightly. “Your brother’s here.”
My breath catches and I stumble back. My heart racing as I turn. And there he is. Standing at the entrance.
Wolf’s face is pale—drained of everything. His eyes locked on Leila like he’s seeing a ghost.
His hand hangs limp at his side, a gun loosely gripped in his fingers.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t even look like he’s breathing. His eyes flicker—unsteady, like he might collapse at any second.
I glance back at Leila.
