BEEP. BEEP.
The shrill sound of a police siren approached the warehouse. The car stopped, and the passenger door swung open.
A long, jade-pale leg emerged first. Using it as a pivot, the woman exited the car, her jet-black hair draping over her shoulders.
She wore an oversized, loose-fitting white tank top with light blue denim shorts underneath.
The tank top covered the shorts, also concealing the gun at her waist.
She strode to the warehouse door in a few steps, opening it with her left hand, her right gripping the pistol's handle.
The other party had called the police, effectively surrendering, but that didn't guarantee they wouldn't have second thoughts or attempt something desperate before dying.
In the throes of intense emotion, people could make any kind of decision.
Morimoto Chiyoda didn't want to capsize in some gutter.
She kicked open the door and was immediately met by a thick stench of blood mixed with a foul odor.
Revolting.
