Zain was tearing through the deserted streets of Shenzhen, his car a blur of mechanical madness. The freezing wind lashed against his window, but it couldn't extinguish the fire raging in his chest. Suddenly, he slammed on the brakes. The tires shrieked in protest as the car skidded to a halt by the roadside.
He slumped forward, resting his forehead against the steering wheel. Anya's words hammered against his eardrums like a rhythmic torture— "Do you have any idea how hard I was fighting that monster?"
He closed his eyes, and the scene replayed in his mind: Ruan's torn clothes, Anya's broken state... and yet, her eyes hadn't held the guilt of a criminal. They had held the roar of a wounded lioness.
"What have I done?" Zain whispered, his knuckles whitening as his grip tightened. "Anya isn't like that... she could never do that. I've destroyed my own world with my own hands."
He yanked the steering wheel, pulling a sharp U-turn toward the mansion. He had to fix this, no matter the cost.
Back at the mansion, Anya's tears had dried, replaced by a cold, sharp resolve. "You called me a pawn, didn't you, Zain? Now watch how this pawn makes her move."
She peered out the window. Zain's loyal guards surrounded the estate like a wall of iron. Escaping them seemed impossible. Anya sat on the bed and began to strategize. She recalled countless K-Dramas she had watched—the ways heroines would use disguises or clever distractions to slip away from their captors.
She opened her wardrobe and pulled out a simple black hoodie and trousers. She tucked her short hair beneath a cap. Observation was key: she noticed the guards rotated their positions every ten minutes.
She executed her plan with clinical precision:
She stuffed pillows under the sheets to mimic the silhouette of a sleeping person.
She turned off the lights so only a vague shadow was visible from the outside.
She tipped over a heavy ceramic vase near the window.
CRASH!
The sound shattered the silence. The guards outside jolted. "Madam? Are you alright?" one shouted. When no answer came, two guards panicked and rushed toward the room.
That was Anya's window. As they burst toward the bedroom door, Anya was already descending the exterior pipes from the balcony with frantic agility. She nearly slipped, but she refused to let go.
Anya reached the back garden. The perimeter wall was crowned with jagged wire, but she spotted a ladder left behind by the gardener.
As she climbed, she took one final look at the sprawling mansion that had become her prison. "Zain Yan, you said I was your 'prey.' Today, look at your prey—she's broken the cage. Now I'll see if you come after me or stay alone with your hatred."
She vaulted over the wall and landed on the main road, waving down a passing taxi.
As the taxi pulled away, the piercing headlights of Zain's car illuminated the road from the opposite direction. Anya pulled her hoodie lower over her face. The two vehicles brushed past each other.
For a split second, Zain felt a jolt of recognition—a familiar presence in that taxi—but his mind was consumed with reaching the house to beg for her forgiveness. He had no idea the woman he was desperate to find was already behind him.
Anya stepped out of the taxi further down the road and took a long, trembling breath of relief. She adjusted her cap and glasses, her heart still thumping. She glanced back at the mansion to ensure no one was following.
At that exact moment, Zain's headlights swept across the road as he turned into the mansion gates. His eyes caught the silhouette of the figure standing by the roadside. Anya's back was turned; her black hoodie and cap obscured her identity completely.
Zain slowed down, narrowing his eyes. Suspicion flared in his mind.
Zain: (To himself) "What is that girl doing near my house at this hour? Hoodie and cap... is she one of Ruan's spies?"
His hand moved to the door handle, tempted to stop and interrogate the stranger. But then, the echoes of Anya's screams returned to him— "Zain! Stop! You're hurting me!"
The memory of her pain and his own crushing regret made him restless. He decided that wasting time on a stranger was less important than apologizing to his wife.
Zain: "Forget it, the guards will handle it. I need to see Anya first."
He floored the accelerator and sped into the estate. He had no clue that the 'Anya' he was yearning for had just passed right by him.
The moment Zain burst into the bedroom, he was greeted by a deafening silence.
"Anya? I... I want to talk."
The room was dark. He saw the shape under the sheets and assumed she was asleep. He walked over softly and placed a hand on the bed.
"Anya, forgive me. I was blinded by rage..."
But as he pulled back the covers, his face turned ash-white. There was no one there—only a few pillows arranged neatly.
Zain: "GUARDS!!!"
His roar shook the entire mansion. The guards stationed outside scrambled into the room, trembling.
Guard: "Ye—Yes, Boss?"
Zain: "Where is she? I told you to protect her, and you couldn't even stop a single girl?"
In that instant, the image of the girl by the roadside—the one in the hoodie adjusting her glasses—flashed in his mind like a bolt of lightning.
Zain: (Grinding his teeth) "That girl by the taxi... that was Anya! She walked right past me and I didn't recognize her!"
In a fit of fury, he kicked a nearby table, sending it crashing to the floor. His eyes were no longer just filled with regret; they were filled with terror. Anya was free, and finding her was going to be an impossible task.
The wind whipped against Anya's face, but the storm in her chest was far colder. As she walked along the sidewalk, her eyes fell upon a couple—holding hands, whispering, and smiling.
The sight plunged a poisoned dagger of memory into her heart. She remembered Zain's touch, which once made her feel like the safest person in the world... the nights his fingers would graze her hair. Suddenly, those sweet memories were overwritten by the image of Zain's hateful eyes and the bruised, blue marks on her wrist.
The weight of the past made her knees buckle. Her focus wavered, and her foot caught on the uneven pavement.
"Ah!"
She hit the concrete hard. Her knees were scraped raw, and blood began to seep from her palms. The emotional wound that had just reopened was far deeper than the physical pain. Hot tears began to stream down her face, soaking her cold cheeks. Her nose and cheeks turned a vivid crimson from the sobbing, like vermilion spilled on white paper.
Passersby stopped, their whispers floating in the air.
"Poor thing... look how beautiful she is, but what a state she's in."
"Someone must have broken her heart."
Anya wiped her eyes fiercely with her hoodie sleeve. There was no longer defeat in her gaze, only a burning fire. She used her trembling hands to push herself off the ground.
She whispered to herself, "No... I'm never going back to him. That Wolf will never find me again."
Just then, a black cab pulled up beside her. Anya climbed in without looking back.
The atmosphere inside the car was quiet. Anya watched the neon lights of Shenzhen blur past the window. Her eyes were fixed and lifeless, her face as pale and translucent as glass, save for the dried tracks of tears.
The driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror. Her red nose and disheveled hair told a story he didn't need to hear. He broke the silence with a soft, gentle voice.
Driver: "Madam... where would you like to go?"
Anya's lips trembled. She forced her voice to stay steady, though it was still thick with the residue of her tears. She gave the address of a high-rise building—the apartment where her old friend Kaiya and her husband Nan Pan lived.
After giving the address, Anya fell silent once more. She clenched her injured palm into a fist, causing a single drop of blood to fall onto her trousers. She felt no pain; her entire being was numb from the betrayal and hatred Zain had shown her.
Meanwhile, Zain stepped out of his car at the mansion gates. He stared at the empty stretch of road where the girl in the hoodie had stood moments ago. A strange, hollow ache settled in his chest, as if a vital part of him had been ripped away forever.
He tried to catch a scent of Anya's faint perfume in the air—a scent he could recognize in a crowd of thousands. But there was only smoke and dust. Zain slammed his fist onto the roof of the car, leaving a deep dent in the metal. The 'Wolf' within him had finally awakened, but this time, he wasn't howling for a hunt—he was howling in agony for the mate he had lost.