Page 185 of BounBound By Scars

One of the guards made a hand gesture.

Not military.

Something uniquely theirs.

They blocked the unknown assailant. Something passed between them, before the four guards… walked past?

What the fuck?

One by one, they circled the man and walked out of the room.

Ling froze, watching them go, his mouth hanging open.

“No.No. What are you doing? Come back!”

The masked man didn’t stop.

Didn’t speak.

Just lunged.

The first blow cracked Ling’s shoulder with a sickening snap.

Ling screamed.

He tried to run, but the man grabbed him, pulled him back like a ragdoll, and drove his fist into his face—again, and again, and again.

Ling hit the floor. The masked man straddled him.

Ling coughed blood, spitting broken Mandarin.

“This will not make a difference,” he choked. “My death would accomplish nothing.”

The man tilted his head. Slowly. Menacingly. Like he was studying him.

Then, barely audible, he whispered something into Ling’s ear.

I couldn’t make it out. But Ling’s face went pale.

And then—one final punch.

Sickening.

Wet.

The sound of bone collapsing.

I blanched at the sight. Ling’s skull—collapsed, broken, half of his face gone. Blending into the carpet beneath.

The man stood, breathing steady, like he’d just taken out the trash.

My vision narrowed. The edges went black.

I saw him turn toward me.

Walking. Calm. Unhurried.

A blur of shadow and silence.

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