Xi Corporation's Headquarters, 14:05;
Rong Xinghe stayed put in the cafeteria chair while the Xi Trio hovered protectively around her, their worry almost suffocating.
She wanted to suggest they move to Xi Yuan's office, where they'd at least have privacy, but her admirer wouldn't even entertain the thought. The man had already summoned a doctor, and until he heard professional assurance that she was fine, nothing she said would sway him.
A staff member quietly placed a steaming bowl of Miso Soup before her—just as the cafeteria floor began to tremble under the weight of heavy, furious boots.
Rong Xinghe flinched.
Shit.
The glass doors slammed open, and in marched Shawn Florence, M4 Carbine raised, face carved in stone, eyes scanning every corner with lethal precision.
He moved like a predator unleashed, every step radiating controlled violence.
