The grand hall of the exclusive auction was alive with anticipation. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne, leather, and polished wood. Elegant men and women murmured excitedly, exchanging hushed words about the rare and priceless items on display. Sarah stood beside her great-grandfather, **Auto Dane Lim**, her hand resting lightly on the arm of the older man who commanded respect with every step. Her father, **Wyatt Felix Lim**, was a few feet away, his eyes scanning the crowd, clearly out of place in the refined atmosphere. Sarah noticed his anxiety, but she kept her thoughts to herself, her mind focused on the task at hand.
Auto Dane, despite his age, still commanded the room with his sharp eyes and calculated movements. He was a man used to control, used to power. The auction was a significant event, and as the heir to the Cojuangco Mafia Organization, he was here for a reason. Sarah knew that it wasn't just about the auction—it was about making connections, sending a message, and asserting their dominance over their rivals.
The items presented were exquisite: rare paintings, ancient artifacts, priceless jewelry. But Sarah wasn't here for the luxury or the wealth; she was here for the alliances. The business deals that could shift the balance of power in their favor.
As the auctioneer's voice echoed through the hall, Sarah stood poised, her back straight and her posture impeccable. Everything was going as planned until the calm atmosphere was shattered by a sudden, deafening explosion. The floor trembled, and a massive shockwave ripped through the room. Crystal chandeliers above rained down shards of glass, and the air filled with the acrid scent of smoke and fire. The screams of the terrified guests mixed with the deafening noise of gunfire.
Chaos erupted.
Terrorists stormed the hall, their masked faces twisted with hatred. They were armed with automatic rifles, their eyes gleaming with the thrill of violence. The auction's guests screamed, scrambling to find cover, but the terrorists were swift, securing the exits and taking control of the room. Gunshots rang out, and the smell of gunpowder filled the air.
Sarah's training kicked in instantly. The moment the explosion went off, she grabbed Auto Dane by the arm and yanked him down to the ground, pulling him behind an overturned table for cover. "Stay down, Lolo," she whispered urgently, her voice calm despite the pandemonium.
The old man, though surprised by the sudden turn of events, trusted his granddaughter implicitly. He ducked behind the table, eyes scanning the room. His weathered face was hard, but Sarah could see the anger burning in his eyes. "That coward," Auto Dane muttered under his breath, referring to his son, Wyatt, who had already slipped out of sight, abandoning them in the chaos. Sarah's gaze flicked to her father, but he was nowhere to be found. He had disappeared into the shadows, leaving her and Auto Dane to fend for themselves.
"We have to get out of here," Sarah said, her voice a low murmur, her eyes calculating their next move. She pulled out her phone, her fingers moving with lightning speed. She contacted her assistant, who was already on standby, hacking into the security systems. Sarah had anticipated something like this, and her assistant had been given instructions to erase all footage and keep their enemies from tracing any of their movements.
"Stay low, stay quiet," Sarah muttered, scanning the room as she observed the terrorists taking control. They were moving with precision, securing hostages and barricading the exits. They seemed to be in no rush, as if they were waiting for something.
"I'll take care of this," Sarah said firmly, a dark resolve settling over her. She turned to Auto Dane, who nodded in understanding, trusting her to handle the situation.
With a swift movement, Sarah stood and made her way through the chaos, her body blending into the shadows. She was calm, focused, every movement deliberate. Her high heels made no sound as she crept along the edge of the room, her eyes darting to assess the number of terrorists. There were at least ten armed men, spread out across the hall. She had trained for moments like this. The tension in the air was thick, but Sarah's mind was clear.
She slipped behind a column, watching the terrorists' every move. One of them was coming toward her, and she silently prepared. As he walked past, she struck, a swift elbow to his throat. The man gasped for breath, but before he could react, she delivered a crushing punch to his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious before he even hit the floor.
Her next target was a terrorist with a machine gun who was too busy watching the crowd to notice her. Sarah moved quickly, disarming him and slamming the rifle against his head. He staggered back, dazed, but Sarah wasn't finished. She swung her elbow into his face, and the sickening crack of his nose breaking echoed through the room.
As Sarah eliminated one terrorist after another, the gunfire around her continued, the hall filled with the sounds of death and destruction. Blood splattered against the walls, staining the once-pristine marble floors. The terrorists were becoming more desperate, realizing they were being picked off one by one. But Sarah was faster. She moved with the fluidity of a predator, every strike landing with brutal precision.
Her hand reached for her knife as another terrorist charged at her. She dodged his attack, stepping to the side and slashing his throat in one fluid motion. He fell to the ground with a gurgling scream, his blood spilling across the floor. Sarah's eyes were cold, devoid of mercy. The fight was far from over.
As the last of the terrorists fell, Sarah rushed back to Auto Dane, who had been waiting in cover. She knelt beside him, checking to make sure he was unharmed. But the moment her gaze shifted, her heart stopped. There, in front of her, lay her great-grandfather's body—lifeless, a pool of blood forming around him. His chest was riddled with stab wounds, the knife marks deep and vicious. His head had been severed cleanly, and his heart had been torn out and left on display for all to see.
Sarah's body went rigid with shock, and a scream tore from her throat—raw, primal, full of anger and sorrow. She dropped to her knees, her hands trembling as she reached out to touch his cold skin. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she forced them back. There was no time to mourn—not yet. The pain of losing him was unbearable, but she had a mission, a duty to avenge his death.
The police had arrived by now, swarming the building, but Sarah didn't care. She didn't look for comfort or answers from them. She had only one thing on her mind. She would make the terrorists pay for what they had done to Auto Dane. But first, she had to find out who was behind this.
Her fists clenched as her mind spun with rage. She couldn't afford to lose control. But it was hard to contain the fury that burned inside her, the desire to make them all suffer. They had taken her great-grandfather from her, and now she would make them pay in the most excruciating way possible.