The auction kicked off.

I tuned out the early lots; my interest piqued only when the auctioneer's voice rose with anticipation.

"And now, the crown jewel of tonight's event: the Mermaid's Tear pink diamond!"

As the lights dimmed and a single spotlight shone on the stage, a pink diamond the size of a pigeon's egg emerged, casting enchanting lights around the room.

I inhaled sharply, my hand poised over the switch.

Three, two, one……

Darkness swallowed the room.

Screams pierced the air, panic spreading like wildfire.

I ripped off the vent cover and slid down silently.

The moment my feet touched down, I was already at the display.

Three seconds.

That was all it took to disable the security, the diamond's cold sensation settling in my palm.

Suddenly, an ear-splitting alarm shattered the silence.

I cursed those weight sensors.

Backup lights snapped on, bathing the venue in a stark, unforgiving glow.

The thud of metal echoed through the air: every exit had slammed shut at once.

"Think you can mess with the Gilbert Group's stuff and live to tell the tale?"

The man's voice boomed from the stage, icy as a blade fresh from the forge.

I craned my neck, and there stood Bradley, looking sharp in his suit, his eyes scanning the room like a hawk poised for the kill.

'Oh, no,' I thought.

I spun on my heels and bolted for the darkened emergency exit.

The sound of footsteps chased after me, growing louder. I had barely made it into the hallway when a sudden force whipped by my side.

By reflex, I dodged, feeling the rush of air as a fist narrowly missed my ear, the breeze it left behind stinging.

Bradley was blocking the exit; my escape route was gone.

Shrouded in darkness, I could not make out his face, but his swift movements had me stumbling backward in no time.

My wrist went numb, the dagger nearly slipping from my grasp.

That guy was unbelievably skilled.

"Just give it up, and I'll end it fast."

His tone was calm, but it dripped with deadly intent.

I gritted my teeth, knowing a head-on fight was a one-way ticket to the grave.

In the corner of my eye, I spotted Rosemary, huddled against the wall, her face ghostly white.

I faked a move and lunged for Rosemary.

"Big mistake!"

Bradley's shout cut through the air.

Too late.

I snatched Rosemary's wrist, pressing the dagger to the artery in her neck. The blade broke skin, a single drop of blood emerging.

Rosemary went rigid, her breath caught in her throat.

"Move," I growled, voice rough on purpose. "Or she's gone."

Bradley froze.

Even in the pitch black, where his face was hidden, I could feel the lethal aura radiating off him.

"Lay a finger on her, and you'll wish you were never born."

"Then, back off."

I edged backward toward the window, gripping Rosemary tightly, every step measured and deliberate. Bradley, wary of harming her, matched my cautious retreat.

Rosemary shivered in my embrace, her lips drained of color.

"Bradley... Please, save me..."

"Be quiet," I barked, cutting her off.

Reaching the window, I nudged the lock open with my foot, letting the cool night air rush in.

That was it.

With a swift move, I thrust Rosemary into Bradley's arms and triggered the smoke bomb.

A cloud of white smoke instantly enveloped the hallway as I vaulted through the window.

Bang!

The gunshot rang out behind me.

Pain seared through my arm as the bullet struck, but I hit the ground running, ignoring the throbbing wound, hobbling away as fast as I could.

Behind me, Bradley's furious voice thundered, "Get her!"

I bolted into an alley where a motorcycle was speeding my way. Summoning every ounce of strength left, I jumped on and tore off toward our hideout.

I slammed the door shut behind me and crumpled to the floor, breathless.

Blood oozed from my arm, but I had no time for that then.

I opened my hand to reveal the prize: a pink diamond, glinting with an otherworldly glow.

"It's here. Now talk," I said.

Old Fox, ever the cool customer, took the diamond, inspected it briefly in the light, and then pulled out a sealed dossier from his desk.

"Everything you need to know about your guy is right here."

Ripping open the dossier, a photo immediately caught my attention: the backdrop was the orphanage from back in the day.

There stood the little blind boy in the corridor, lips pressed tight, his young face shadowed with a gravity beyond his years.

My eyes drifted down to another photo: there was Bradley, sharp-suited, his gaze icy, in front of the Gilbert Group's skyscraper.

I stared at the two eerily similar faces.

Bradley was the little blind boy?

Old Fox watched me with a sly grin, slowly starting to speak, "Bradley, the boy you've been searching for, the Gilberts' long-lost illegitimate son, wasn't always blind. After you were trafficked, his uncle found him, brought him home, and his sight was restored with surgery. He later exacted a bloody revenge on the Gilbert Group for his mother's sake.

"Ever since he could see again, he had been on a quest to find a girl from his orphanage days. Three years ago, he was sure he'd found her."

My hands shook uncontrollably. I wondered, 'Am I the one he's been looking for all these years?'

"We confirmed the target three years ago."

"Who did he find three years ago?" I demanded, locking eyes with Old Fox.

The answer was nearly palpable: Rosemary.

The woman trembling in my embrace, the one he would protect at all costs.

"Rosemary, she's one of yours, isn't she? You planted her close to him on purpose?" I asked.

Old Fox just smiled at me, a knowing glint in his eyes.

"Kid, you're in too deep. By involving Rosemary, you've sealed your fate with our organization. There's only one way out now, and you won't be leaving alive.

"Join me. Kill Bradley, and earn back your freedom."

"I may be caught, but you're not off the hook either," I shot back at Old Fox.

Meanwhile, Black Viper removed his helmet and stepped forward.

"You don't get it. Messing with Bradley's stuff has been a game for many, though none have succeeded. And none faced the ultimate punishment, except for the one who took Rosemary.

"In this game, you're the only one who's truly crossed him."

I left the base, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts, but one stood out: I had to find him and reveal the truth.

Out of nowhere, a black SUV pulled up to the curb.

I had not even had time to process what was happening when a wet cloth clamped down over my face, its stinging odor flooding my senses.

When I came to, I found a torn rag jammed in my mouth, my hands bound to the chair arms.

My arm throbbed from a still-bleeding gunshot wound, and my calf screamed in pain, probably snapped when I took that desperate leap from the building.

The room was pitch black except for a single monitor on the wall that showed Bradley sitting and staring out at me.

His eyes met mine, icy and devoid of any hint of warmth.

I fought against my restraints, desperate to speak, to warn him about Rosemary, but only muffled cries escaped.

Bradley's voice, icy and detached, floated from the speakers, "Fond of thievery, are you? Let's see how you fare without the use of your hands."

With a casual flick of his finger, two shadows stepped forward: one pinning my hand, the other brandishing a three-inch nail and a hammer.

I knew what was coming.

I thrashed wildly, shaking my head at Bradley's image, but my pleas were silent.

Helplessly, I watched as the nail approached, piercing my skin and burrowing into the nail bed.

Waves of agony crashed over me as I saw my own nails split and separate from my flesh.

The nails, driven deep by relentless hammering, sank into my fingers, through to my palm.

One after another, until nails protruded from the back of my hand, glistening with blood.

My screams filled the hollow basement, but they were not done. They grabbed pliers, yanking at the nails still clinging to the nail beds.

They did not stop until every nail was torn away, every bone in my fingers shattered...

Time lost its meaning until, at last, they ceased their gruesome work.

I forced my eyes open, the sweat stinging like needles, and caught sight of Bradley on the monitor, cool as a cucumber, flipping through some papers, and at times, glancing at the camera.

Right when they were about to hammer a nail into my left hand, the guy in the monitor screen shot up and lunged at the camera. "Hold on," he said, his voice taking on a new edge. "What's that around her neck?"