A Vow of Revenge

The getaway car idled in a shadowed alley two blocks from the Grand Pavilion, its engine a low growl beneath the distant wail of sirens. Mayang drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, her eyes locked on the gala’s illuminated entrance. Guests spilled onto the street like glittering insects, their panic muted by the hum of the city. Her healer’s kit sat open on the passenger seat—vials of antidotes, syringes, and dried herbs bundled in cloth. She’d prepared for gunshot wounds, stab wounds, even burns. Not poison. The word gnawed at her. Poison was Zhu Fen’s signature—a coward’s weapon.

Felix’s voice crackled through the comm, raw with desperation. “Lia’s been hit—poison! We need extraction now!”