The barrel of the gun was black, cold, and steady. It was pointed directly at the center of Yichen's forehead.
I stopped breathing. My mind was screaming. My heart hammered against my ribs, so loud I was sure everyone in the room could hear it.
"Get on your knees," Lixuan snarled, his finger whitening on the trigger. His blue eyes were wild, dilated with a mixture of adrenaline and madness. "Do it! Or I end the great Mo Yichen right here, right now!"
I had moved, but froze when Yichen's hand raised to stop me.
Madam Mo let out a strangled whimper, burying her face in her hands, unable to watch her sons destroy each other. Mo Yumen stood frozen, his age suddenly showing in the tremors of his hands.
But Yichen... Yichen didn't move.
He didn't flinch. He didn't blink. He stood with his hands casually in his pockets, looking at the gun with an expression of boredom, as if Lixuan were holding a toy.
Like the gangster his brother was said to be.
