Chapter 50. I don’t trust you
Drrr Drrr—
The distant rattle of gunfire clawed at Ado’s fading consciousness, dragging him back from the edge of death. A shaky breath escaped his dry lips as he peeled open his heavy eyelids. The only thing he could see above was a cracked, dust-caked ceiling. Where the hell was he? How long had he been out?
He didn’t know. All he knew was this: he was dying.
He tried to move, but his limbs betrayed him. They felt numb and useless. His senses were dulled too as if wrapped in cotton. His tongue was coated with a bitter taste, lips cracked and parched, nostrils clogged. The only sense that hadn’t failed him was his hearing.
Gunfire rang out again, closer now. No, his hearing was clearing. He could pick up more. Amid the chaos, a twisted laugh echoed like something unhinged. Screams followed. Someone was having fun.
"Fucking move!! Damn it!"
Ado groaned, trying to twitch a finger, but nothing happen. Rage boiled in his belly, helpless and burning. That poisonous gas... he’d dodged most of it, used every bit of his martial arts instincts to keep from inhaling it fully but it had still sunk into his system, corroding him from the inside.
Then there was hunger. Two and a half days of unconsciousness had left him hollow. Empty.
Damn that brat... he thought bitterly. That little bastard... the one who made the team leader pop his suicide trump card.
If his body could move, he’d tear him apart. Slowly.
No. He’d do worse. He’d humiliate him. Break him. Shove him down and make him scream into the dirt. Fuck him in the asshole until he cried for mercy—no charm skills needed, just raw, cruel dominance. A good creampie in the rectum to shatter his pride. Then finish him off in a brutal way.