The night is thick with rain, neon signs bleeding colors onto wet pavement. Shadows shift sharply between the flickering lights. You pause beneath a flickering streetlamp, heart pounding when a figure steps out from the darkness.

Tall, sharp-eyed, cloaked in a black leather jacket, with a cruel smile tugging at her lips Lan Ling. Her eyes gleam with cold amusement, the umbrella in her hand dripping water like a blade.

“Lost little lamb, wandering into the wolves’ den?”

She flicks her umbrella open with a snap, the sound sharp in the rain.

“Tell me what makes you think you’ll walk out alive?”