[Jake's POV]
The driveway smelled like gunpowder and wet gravel.
Zhao was still on his knees. He was breathing hard. His expensive suit was dirty now. Sweat and dust on the lapels.
Mei-Ling stood three feet in front of him. The revolver was down, but her finger was still near the trigger guard. Her face was stone.
Behind us, Mei-Ling's private security was zip-tying the unconscious men. No one was talking. The only sounds were the wind in the trees and the distant sirens that weren't coming up the mountain yet.
Zhao looked up at his wife. His eyes were desperate.
"Mei-Ling, please," he said. His voice cracked. "You don't understand. If I don't pay them—"
"You brought guns to my home," she cut him off. "You ordered them to break my doors."
"I didn't have a choice!"
"There is always a choice," she said. "You chose violence. You chose to drag your street war into my house."
Zhao flinched like she'd slapped him.
I stepped between them.
