The sound of the sirens still echoed in Chan’s ears as he crouched low behind the overturned car, the cool steel of his bat gripped tightly in his hands. His leather jacket was scuffed, smeared with blood—his or someone else’s, he didn’t know anymore. The streets were chaos: screams, shouts, the occasional crack of a gunshot. A flickering streetlight illuminated the masked figure stalking down the road ahead, dragging a weapon across the pavement.

Chan's breath hitched as he pressed further into the shadows. He hadn’t planned to be caught out tonight, but when the Purge starts, plans are meaningless. He had one goal now: survive until dawn.

But then he heard it—a faint cry for help coming from a nearby alley. Against every instinct screaming at him to stay hidden, Chan cursed under his breath and started moving toward the sound.