The night wind seemed to stop entirely. Jaison's throat worked, producing a pathetic, choking sound.
His brain short-circuited. He convinced himself it was a prop. A fake gun meant to scare him.
Alana looked at his stupid, terrified face. She didn't waste a single word on him. Her index finger squeezed the trigger.
Thwip.
The heavy suppressor muffled the gunshot into a dull, violent spit of fire.
A 9mm hollow-point bullet tore through the air faster than the eye could track. It slammed perfectly into the center of Jaison's right kneecap.
A spray of dark red blood exploded against the pristine white fabric of his tuxedo trousers, blooming outward like a grotesque rose.
The kinetic energy of the bullet completely shattered his patella, turning the bone to dust.
Jaison let out a high-pitched, agonizing scream that didn't sound human. His right leg buckled instantly, and he crashed hard onto the asphalt.
He grabbed his ruined knee, thrashing violently on the ground. His expensive suit soaked up the mud and his own blood.
In the shadows, the bodyguards exchanged shocked glances. They hadn't expected this fragile, sickly girl to pull a trigger without even blinking.
Standing by the car door, Corbin's pupils contracted to pinpricks. A massive, violent shockwave ripped through his chest.
He had imagined a thousand different scenarios of how she would interact with Jaison. He had never, in his wildest, most paranoid dreams, imagined she would pull a gun and cripple the man herself.
After the initial shock passed, a dark, twisted, euphoric thrill shot through Corbin's veins.
He stared at Alana standing in the night, holding the smoking gun. The cold, hard lines of his face melted into a deeply disturbed, obsessive smile.
She wasn't a helpless rabbit. She was a blood-soaked rose with thorns sharp enough to kill.
Alana lowered the gun. She looked down at Jaison writhing on the ground.
Her face was completely blank. She didn't flinch at the blood or the screaming. Her eyes were as cold as a glacier.
Jaison gasped for air, his face pale and covered in sweat. He looked up at her, his eyes wide with absolute horror, as if he were staring at a monster.
"Why?" he sobbed, his teeth chattering. "Are you out of your fucking mind?!"
Alana let out a short, hollow laugh. She took a half-step forward. The pointed toe of her high heel stopped an inch from his nose.
She leaned down slightly. Her voice was barely a whisper, meant only for him. "Consider this the interest on your betrayal."
Jaison's brain was scrambled from the pain. He desperately tried to make sense of this. Through the haze of agony, his mind flashed back to his last conversation with Jessica, where she smugly promised that her weak, pathetic stepsister was entirely under control. If Alana was here, pulling a trigger without blinking, it had to be a setup. The social-climbing bitch had played him. "Jessica!" he screamed suddenly. "Jessica put you up to this, didn't she?!"
He naturally assumed Alana was too weak to do this on her own. He thought her stepsister had manipulated her into taking him out.
Hearing this, Alana didn't correct him. Instead, she slowly raised one eyebrow, playing right into his delusion.
"Take a guess," she whispered coldly.
She straightened up, turning her back on him. The seed of doubt was planted deep in his mind. When the villains started turning on each other, she would be watching.
In the distance, the estate security guards started shouting. "Gunshot! Front gate, move!" Multiple armed guards poured out from the side entrances, their heavy boots pounding the asphalt as their flashlights swept aggressively toward the driveway, converging from three different directions to trap them.
Corbin raised two fingers. His elite team didn't even blink at the approaching threat. In perfect synchronization, two bodyguards deployed localized signal jammers, cutting the estate's radio comms to static, while another tossed a high-lumen flashbang into the tree line to blind the incoming guards. Two of his men immediately stepped out of the shadows. They grabbed Jaison by the armpits, clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle his screams, and dragged him into the dark bushes like a dead dog, using the terrain advantage to vanish entirely before the blinded Knox security could even register their presence.
Alana turned around. The hem of her red dress snapped in the wind. She walked calmly back toward Corbin.
