Gunshot

Without warning, darkness engulfed the room, plunging her into a pitch-black world.

Power outage?

Phoebe's heart clenched, fear and panic consuming her.

It felt like a suffocating weight was closing in, making her body tremble uncontrollably.

Suddenly, a gust of wind swept past her, and before she could react, a strong arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

Her bare back pressed against a firm chest. Even through the fabric of his shirt, she could feel the heat emanating from him.

Startled, she let out a cry, "NO..."

But the man chuckled darkly, his deep, husky voice breaking the silence of the room. "Don't make a fuss..."

His voice was intoxicating, but why did it carry such an overwhelming sense of dominance? The aura of this man was formidable!

"You...who are you?" Phoebe mustered the courage to ask, her voice trembling.

Though the room was pitch dark, the man's sharp eyes could clearly catch every emotion in her wide, clear eyes—those beautiful eyes, like black pearls, pure and flawless.

In the darkness, his keen gaze continued to scrutinize her.

She was terrified, and it showed.

His thin lips curved into a smirk as he leaned closer.

"Perhaps you should focus on how to please me next," he whispered.

Phoebe's heart skipped a beat, pounding erratically. Was this the man who had bought her?

His voice was seductive, yet it filled her with dread. Through the darkness, though she couldn't see his face, she could feel his arrogant, playful gaze, his natural grace and nobility. And those dark eyes, like a deep, cold lake—utterly captivating, but without warmth.

She shivered instinctively, his breath on her skin making her body tremble with fear.

She wanted to escape, but there was no way out now. His grip on her waist tightened, pulling her body closer to his hard chest.

"You know what to do, right?" His deep, magnetic voice commanded, as he held her chin, looking down at her in the dark.

Phoebe forced a bitter smile, nodding despite the fear. "Yes."

Nervous, anxious, terrified.

Remembering scenes from the erotic videos she'd seen before, she reached out her trembling hand...

The temperature in the room suddenly soared. Scattered on the floor were a man's jacket and shirt...the air thick with the heat of passion, the sound of her soft moans mingling with the tension.

A wild, domineering, forceful conquest was about to begin.

She didn't know when, but the towel wrapped around her had fallen, and cold, rough hands were prying her legs apart...

Suddenly, an unnoticed undercurrent of danger surged through the air.

Bang--

A gunshot rang out, shattering the night.

Several shadows darted into the room, firing rapidly at the man.

"AHH--"

Phoebe's terrified scream mingled with the echo of gunfire, abruptly ending the heated moment.

The man acted instinctively, throwing her aside and swiftly grabbing his discarded jacket. Rolling across the floor, he quickly took cover in the shadows.

His long, cold fingers grasped a black gun, and with piercing eyes, he aimed at the intruders, cold light flashing from his gaze.

Bang, bang, bang—

Outside, flashes of lightning illuminated the sky, only to be swallowed by the darkness again. Winds howled, and the night was blanketed in thick fog. Thunder roared furiously, like a wild beast or a demon.

***

Phoebe awoke with a start. The room was eerily silent.

All she could hear was her own ragged breathing and the erratic pounding of her heart. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead, dampening her hair. Her pale, delicate face was drained of color.

Where am I?

The unfamiliar surroundings left her disoriented. The pungent smell of disinfectant made her stomach churn.

A dull pain throbbed in her chest, and she stiffened. Glancing down at the hospital gown she wore, memories of that night began to resurface...and she realized what had happened.

God, I'm still alive?

The door opened softly.

"Phoebe, lie down quickly! Don't tear your stitches!" It was Phoebe's mother,Anila, her voice filled with concern as she rushed over to the bed, gently helping her daughter lie back down.

"Mom!" Phoebe's eyes welled up as she looked at her mother, a sudden wave of dread washing over her. How had she ended up in the hospital? Did her mother know what had happened?

Nervous, anxious, scared.

The thought of her parents finding out terrified her. They came from a conservative family—if they knew what she had done, how could they ever accept it?

Silently, she prayed that they knew nothing.

"My dear girl, I almost lost you!" Anila sat at the bedside, her face etched with exhaustion and worry. She looked much older, clearly having not rested well in days.

"Mom, I'm fine! I..." Phoebe tried to speak but hesitated, unsure if she should ask how she had ended up here, and if they knew the truth.

"How can you say you're fine? You got shot!" Anila's voice broke as she struggled to hold back her tears. Just a few days ago, her daughter had been perfectly fine, and now she was lying in a hospital bed.

"Mom, how long have I been here?"

"Three days."

"What about Gordon?" Phoebe shot up in bed, ignoring the pain in her chest as she grabbed her mother's hand. Three days?

"Phoebe, don't worry. Gordon's fine..." Anila reassured her gently. Such a foolish child—after everything, she was still concerned about her troubled brother.

He's fine? Phoebe stared wide-eyed at her mother. Was he really, or was she just saying that to comfort her?

"Phoebe, I'm telling the truth. The debt has been paid."

"Mom, where did you get the money?"

"A middle-aged man gave us compensation. He paid us 500,000 as compensation. I used the money to pay off the loan sharks." Anila's voice trembled with emotion. Her daughter had almost lost her life, but in doing so, she had saved her brother's. It was all because of them.

He gave her money? She had thought...

"Mom, do you know anything else?" Phoebe asked cautiously, her heart tightening with fear.

"What do you mean, Phoebe?"

"Nothing, Mom. It's fine. As long as Gordon's safe, that's all that matters."

After her mother left, silence fell once more. Phoebe lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. That gunshot...not only had it not killed her, but it had also saved her brother's life.

Was this divine intervention?