HEART ATTACK

HEART ATTACK

Brianna’s POV

What am I supposed to do? My hands trembled as I racked my brain for a solution. Chan. I needed to call Chan.

Snatching the office cell phone, I frantically dialed his number, my pulse hammering in my ears.

"Hello, Chan, it's me, Brianna!"

"Wow, I’m impressed. You’re still alive," he chuckled.

His casual amusement made my blood boil.

"Do you think this is funny? I’m in a crisis here! Where the hell are you?"

"Relax, I’m almost there. You in some kind of danger?"

"Yes! Now stop laughing your ass off and get here—now!"

"Don’t worry, I’ll be there before you say cheesecake."

"Cheesecake—" I started, only to pause in frustration. "Where the heck are you?"

"You’ll see," he teased.

"Hello? Chan? Chan!" I growled, gripping the phone tightly as the call cut off. Damn it, he hung up on me!

Before I could even process my anger, a deafening explosion rocked the building. The walls trembled as dust and smoke filled the air. My heart nearly stopped.

I knew that sound.

A grenade.

"Chan!" I screamed, slamming my fists against the locked door. "Chan, you crazy idiot! Let me out of here!"

He was here. Of course, he was. The lunatic had a sick obsession with making an entrance—and explosives.

"Relax, baby girl," his smug voice finally called out from the other side.

"Get me out of here right now!"

The moment the lock clicked open, I shoved him out of the way, bolting past him before he could utter another word. My lungs burned as I scanned the chaos outside.

Dax.

Where the hell was Dax?

"Who are you looking for?" Chan asked, watching me with amusement.

"Someone I need to kill myself," I muttered before sprinting toward the back door.

Chan’s team was already here, engaging Jake’s men in a full-on brawl. True to their code, the Rule of Chan, they weren’t killing—just knocking them unconscious. The police would handle the rest.

But none of that mattered.

I couldn't see Dax anywhere.

Panic crawled up my throat as I spun around, my eyes darting frantically over the chaos. Where is he?!

I turned back toward the control room, my fingers flying across the keyboard as I pulled up the security feed. My breath hitched.

There he was.

Fighting off two men. Alone.

"Is that the person you want to kill?" Chan teased, tilting his head toward Dax, who was barely holding his ground against an attacker wielding a knife.

"Let's go help him!" I shouted, and we sprinted down to the basement.

Dax staggered backward, narrowly dodging the blade. His movements were sluggish, his body struggling to keep up. The moment the assailant lunged again, I bolted forward and shoved him off.

He barely stumbled before redirecting his rage toward me.

"Watch out!" Chan yanked me aside just in time. Then, with a grin that sent a shiver down my spine, he turned the guy into a punching bag. Each hit was precise, brutal—a symphony of destruction.

"Get him out of here," Chan ordered, his knuckles bloodied but steady. "I’ll handle this."

I didn’t argue. Instead, I turned to Dax, who was sprawled on the floor, panting hard.

"Dax?" My heart hammered in my chest.

Then, to my utter disbelief—he started laughing.

"What the hell is funny?" I asked, frowning.

"I haven't had this much fun in years," he wheezed between chuckles, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. "Feels good to fight like this again."

My stomach twisted. "What do you mean? Is your life something to toy with?"

He grinned, unfazed by my concern. "It just feels nice."

His face was bruised, his lip split, but aside from that, he seemed fine. Then it hit me—Jake’s men had decreased.

I narrowed my eyes. "Wait... how did you fight them off? There were at least thirty of them."

"Actually, there were forty." He smirked. "But they fell for my trap. I locked them in the basement on the left side of the building and left them a little surprise."

I arched a brow. "What kind of surprise?"

"Just some knockdown gases."

I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. "You never cease to amaze me."

By the time we stepped outside, sirens blared through the night. The police had arrived. Officers swarmed the area, securing the criminals while medics tended to the wounded.

"You need first aid," I told Dax, noticing his unsteady stance. "Your wound’s been open too long. You lost a lot of blood."

He didn’t argue when I helped him to the ambulance. As a paramedic cleaned his injuries, I turned my attention to the police, briefing them on what happened.

Jake was arrested. Again.

This time, he wouldn’t be coming out.

I barely had a second to breathe before I felt a pair of arms wrap around me from behind.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, startled.

Dax rested his head against my shoulder. "Just wanted to confirm if it’s really over."

"You’re still weak," I muttered. "Your wound was open too long, and you lost a lot of blood. You need to rest."

"I'm fine," he countered. "But if I have to go, you’re coming with me."

I scoffed. "I need to talk to that annoying friend of mine first."

Chan, as expected, was having the time of his life, chatting animatedly with the police and detectives like he was at a damn social event.

"How come you guys are friends?" Dax asked, his tone laced with curiosity.

"It just happened," I replied with a shrug. "He's a nice guy—just as annoying as hell."

Dax chuckled. "People like him are needed in crime-fighting."

"He already has a crime-fighting company in China," I added, smirking.

"Wow."

I hesitated for a moment before asking, "What about your brother? Is he okay?"

Dax let out a small sigh but nodded. "Yeah, his body’s still intact, and he’s breathing."

Together, we watched as Jake was dragged into the police van, his face void of any remorse. His men—those despicable creatures who preyed on young girls—were also being hauled away.

But just when I thought it was over, chaos erupted.

Jake lunged forward, breaking free. In one swift motion, he pulled a gun, his eyes locking onto me like a predator about to strike.

The air tensed.

Then—gunfire.

I barely had time to react before Dax moved in front of me.

A sickening thud.

The moment froze in time. My breath hitched as I saw Dax collapse, his body crumbling like a puppet with severed strings.

Blood.

"Dax…" My voice barely came out, my mind refusing to comprehend what had just happened.

Another shot rang through the air. Jake fell.

But all I could see was Dax’s lifeless form on the pavement. My feet refused to move.

"Dax… Dax, wake up!" My voice trembled. My vision blurred. The world tilted—

Darkness.

Dax’s POV

Pain. A dull, persistent ache spread through my body.

I forced my eyes open, my surroundings hazy. White walls. The sterile scent of antiseptic. The steady beeping of a heart monitor confirmed my worst suspicion—I was in a hospital.

The last thing I remembered was getting shot. That idiot, Jake…

Groaning, I pushed myself up.

Why is my room empty?

Where’s Brianna?

Ignoring the pain, I swung my legs over the bed, forcing myself to stand. The moment I stepped outside, I froze.

My mother.

I blinked. Am I hallucinating?

She stood up the moment she saw me, her eyes brimming with emotion.

"My baby," she whispered.

My body stiffened. "Who are you?" I asked coldly. "Move out of the way."

"Dax, it's me—your mother."

I let out a bitter laugh. "My mother is dead."

Her face paled, but I didn’t care. A nurse approached, concern evident in her voice. "Sir, you shouldn’t be out of bed. You need rest."

I ignored her. "Where is she?"

The nurse hesitated before pointing to a room down the hall.

"You’re in no condition to be walking—"

I didn’t let her finish. I shoved past her, my heart pounding. The nurse tried to stop me, but I needed to see Brianna.

I pushed open the door.

My breath caught in my throat.

Brianna lay motionless, her skin unnaturally pale. Oxygen tubes were strapped to her mouth. Her chest rose and fell weakly, her body fragile against the hospital bed.

Why?

Why was she like this?

Did I fail to protect her again?

"Sir, you have to wait outside," the nurse insisted.

A deep voice interrupted. "Let him be. You may go."

I turned to the man standing beside Brianna’s bed. The doctor.

"What happened? Was she shot?" My voice was hoarse.

The doctor’s expression was grim.

"No. She had a heart attack."