I come to with a thudding headache. My eyes squeeze shut against the dull, persistent pain radiating from the back of my skull. It pulses like a relentless hammer, pounding away with a fierce intensity. I bite back a curse and reach up to check for injuries, but my hand won't budge. Something's holding me tight — my arms and legs are bound.
That's when I realize: I'm tied up.
A harsh, electric hum crackles in the air, slicing through the silence and stabbing at my battered mind. It makes me wince, amplifying the dull ache pounding in my head. Somewhere nearby, a steady drip echoes — slow, methodical — like water leaking from a broken pipe or a faucet left half-open.
My throat is dry, my lips cracked, and a gnawing hunger twists my stomach. Gritting my teeth, I pry my eyes open, desperate to see where I am, to gauge the depth of this nightmare.
This has to be a dream.
I'll wake up any second now.
I struggle against my restraints, pulling and twisting with everything I've got. Narrow straps bite into my flesh, slicing through skin and muscle as I thrash. Pain explodes in my arms, and I cry out, but I don't stop. The bindings tighten with every movement, cutting into me deeper, drawing sharp stings of blood.
My strength begins to fade, but my resolve doesn't. With a guttural growl, I press harder, every muscle screaming in protest. I feel the joints of the straps strain and groan, the metal buckling under pressure. Then — a sudden, satisfying pop! — one strap snaps free like a broken arm.
I grit my teeth, pushing harder, knowing freedom is just a few thrusts away.
"It seems our guest is awake."
The voice cuts through the chaos — cold, rough, and filled with cruel amusement. Footsteps approach, slow and deliberate. A raspy breath brushes past my ear, devoid of any warmth. Whoever this is, they don't like me. That much is clear.
Before I can react, a hard fist yanks my head back, ripping out clumps of hair. I scream, blinded by a sudden flood of bright light.
"It's nice of you to join us."
I close my eyes tightly, then open them again. An old man stands above me, his face a map of scars and weariness. He shoves my head down, then steps in front of me. My heart stutters when I recognize who he is.
Li Wei.
I suppress a bitter laugh, taking in the infamous man — the one everyone fears. But now, he looks... fragile, like he might crumble at any moment.
"The years haven't been kind," I mutter.
"Maggie, isn't it?" he says.
I glare. "You know exactly who I am."
Li Wei's eyes hold mine steadily. "And you know exactly who I am."
"I know everything about you."
He studies me carefully before sighing. "I won't keep you waiting, my dear."
How considerate.
I clench my jaw. "Good."
Hands clasped behind his back, he steps closer. "Why are you here? Who told you about my past?"
I say nothing and return his stare.
"Are you a spy?" His voice spits the question like venom.
Laughter bubbles up uncontrollably. Hysterical, sharp, defiant.
His frown deepens. "What's so funny?"
Ignoring him, I laugh harder. Then — a brutal slap across my cheek — the hardest I've ever felt.
"Tell me what's funny!" he growls.
My cheek burns, but I grin through the pain. "You shouldn't hit the victim — it makes her head dizzy. Then I won't be able to answer your questions."
He scoffs. "Who the hell do you think you are?"
"I thought you knew." I shrug.
"Do you know who I am?"
I spit on the floor. "You're just an old man hiding behind your men. A coward."
His nostrils flare as he strikes again. "You're playing with fire."
"Maybe I want to get burned."
"If you keep disrespecting me, I won't hold back — and don't think I'll go easy just because you're a woman."
I shrug. "Go ahead. Nothing you do can be worse than what your sons already have."
He snarls, "Why should I be accountable for what they did? You're a whore. Have you forgotten?"
"It's hard to forget when everyone keeps reminding me."
A tense silence.
"Who told you?" he demands.
I blink. "I don't know what you mean."
He slaps me again. "One last time. Who was it?"
I stay silent.
His voice rises. "Don't keep quiet. It makes me think you're hiding something."
"And if I am? What then? Punch me? Kick me? Abuse me? Rape me? You won't get anything."
His growl turns savage. "You're wasting my time!"
"I'm right here. I don't know what you want."
His tone hardens. "Was it Hao?"
I shake my head. "I don't know who that is."
"Liar!" He raises his arm to strike again, but I shout, "I don't know him! Never heard the name!"
"Then who?" he roars.
I hesitate, torn between defiance and survival. Then, a slow, sly grin spreads. "If you must know... it was my father."
His brow furrows. "Your father?"
I nod, smug. "My father told me everything — even when you take a shit."
"Who is your father?" he demands.
I smile knowingly. "I'm surprised you don't know. Everyone does."
"Who?"
I prepare to deliver the story — a lesson in legacy.
"My father's the youngest of four. At seven, he stole bread from a corner store every day. Got caught once, but only warned."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"At thirteen, he joined a street gang. Once, he fought off a group stealing his bike — outnumbered but undefeated. Men watching called him 'The Bull' for how he fought."
Li Wei's jaw tightens.
"He struggled in school — dyslexia held him back. First arrested for assaulting a cop, then mobbing, looting banks, robbing shops. Married twice before my mother — all models. Before contract killing, he was a pro gambler — started with larceny, hijacking, racketeering, illegal poker."
Li Wei growls. "Enough!"
"In 1990, he committed his first murder — a man plotting against him. He started a construction business, but was later charged with double murder by an associate. Ordered to kill his brother-in-law, he beat him instead. In '92, ordered to kill a gangster — shot him in the head. Later, a cocaine dealer in broad daylight. Never caught."
Li Wei's expression shifts — a flicker of worry. I smirk.
"I could go on, but I think I've said enough."
"He's a hitman," Li Wei spits. "Your father."
Pride blooms in me. "The best there is."
"Rabid 'Bull' Eye. Everyone knows him."
"And he knows you. You should've killed me when you had the chance. You're next."
"How do you know that if you haven't talked to your father?"
"There's an informant — someone close to you — working for my father."
Li Wei's eyes narrow. "Who?"
I scoff. "You killed Hao for nothing. Poor bastard had nothing to do with this."
Li Wei growls, "Tell me or I'll—"
I cut him off with a sigh. "You were married once, right?"
He stiffens, face blank.
Sore subject?
"What's that got to do with anything?"
"I heard your wife was a lovely lady. Shame what happened to her."
"Don't talk about her."
"She was murdered, wasn't she?"
Silence. "I take that as yes."
"Careful. You're on thin ice."
"But I know something no one else does."
Pause.
"About my wife?"
I nod. "Want to hear a secret?"
He studies me, trying to figure me out. He won't.
"If it's about her, yes."
"Your wife was assassinated, right?"
I don't say more. His face pales — like a rotting corpse.
"No," he grits.
I chuckle. "My father was hired by an anonymous client to kill her."
He grabs me by the neck, lifting me off the chair, spitting in my face. "What did you just say?!"
I stare him down. "My father shot your wife. Surprise, motherfucker."
He roars and slams me into a steel table. Blood trickles from my nose and mouth. He drags me up, slams me against the wall, and I slide down to the floor.
Then he storms over, grabs me again, and rains down punches — brutal, relentless — until the door bursts open.
"Father!" Chen pants, rushing in.
"What is it?" Li Wei demands.
"We're under attack!"
"How can this be!?"
"I don't know! It's chaos out there!"
Li Wei looks at me, eyes flickering with calculation. Then, unexpectedly, he marches toward the door, gun drawn.
Chen waits until his father leaves, then kneels beside me.
"What's going on?"
"It's your lucky day," Chen says, pulling out a knife and cutting my restraints. He hands me a bulletproof vest and holster. "Your father sent reinforcements."
I put on the vest, feeling a flicker of hope.
"I called him after I left the other night," Chen explains, loading a gun and passing it to me. "Ever used one of these?"
I snort. "Who do you think I am? An amateur?"
"Why does that turn me on?" Chen grins.
I point the gun at him. "Unless you want me to shoot you, get me out of here."
"Yes, ma'am."