I remember the humid night in Hong Kong vividly—a night where neon lights fought through the fog, and the damp air clung to my skin like a second layer. I was in a dim, rundown bar where every shadow held a secret, and the acrid tang of cigarette smoke mixed with the salty scent of the harbor. Across from me, a man brandished a loaded gun, his cold gaze fixed on me. I knew instantly that the weapon wasn't meant to be fired immediately; it was a tool designed to terrify, to assert dominance.
I glanced to my right and saw Ruth Lee standing silently beside me. A surge of irritation rushed through me—I had explicitly ordered her to stay back. Yet, there she was, a steadfast presence in a moment where every second felt like an eternity. My heart pounded with a mix of adrenaline and dread as I contemplated the risk not just to myself, but to her as well.