YIREN (PART 2)
The gun is empty. I freeze, panic clawing its way up my throat.
"Wrong move," Cyrus's lifts himself, dusts off his immaculate white clothes. His eyes darken with each step, his presence suffocating.
I step back, heart pounding wildly in my chest.
"You should have gone for the knife," he says, "Your chances would've been better."
My hands shake as I hold the useless gun, my mind racing, searching for something—anything—that could get me out of this. But he's right. I should've gone for the knife.
Cyrus steps closer, his dark eyes boring into mine with a predatory gleam. I can feel the weight of my mistake like lead in my gut.
At that moment, a small, grenade-like object rolls into the room, bouncing across the floor with a soft clink before stopping at my feet. My heart races as it releases thick, choking smoke, quickly filling the room.
