On the morning of the picnic day, San Francisco's air was covered in an autumn fog as thin as a silk hem, gently sprinkling down onto the vibrant red maple leaves along the road leading to the suburban eco-zone.
To Maya, after a series of days submerged in nightmares, insomnia, and invisible threats, this period of time was strangely peaceful. Pale yellow sunlight pierced through tree canopies, dispelling the bone-chilling cold and the obsession always ready to devour her.
That day was the happiest day Maya had ever had since setting foot in St. Jude School.
Throughout the entire morning on the lush green meadow, Mark seemed not to leave her side by half a step. The five-year-old child, who was originally quiet, lonely, and always carried a watchful gaze toward the world around him, today actively held tightly onto Maya's thin hand. The small, warm hands of the child were like a medicine soothing every cut, every panic tearing apart inside her mind.
The entire Morning Star class burst out running on the grass carpet, crisp laughter echoing amidst the open space of mountains and forests. Maya played hide-and-seek with the children, wove pretty wild flower crowns to put on the girls' heads, and watched Mark smile — a rare, pure smile without a single burden.
While sitting under the shade of a large ancient tree, Mark lightly leaned his head against Maya's shoulder. The child said nothing, only lightly squeezing his tiny fingers into her hand. In that moment, Maya felt all the sacrifices, all the bitterness and danger she had gone through to protect the boy that night became completely worth it. She forgot the dark silhouettes lingering around her lodging house, forgot the lily bouquet bearing the smell of gunpowder, and forgot even the spine-chilling warning line in the anonymous text message: "Don't go on the picnic."
However, that peace was merely a lull before a raging storm.
At four in the afternoon, the bus carrying Morning Star class began rolling its wheels to return to the inner city. The single winding road cut through the dense pine forest, where both sides of the road were nothing but sheer stone cliffs and ancient tree canopies obscuring the gradually setting sun.
The children, tired after a day of playing, had begun dozing off. Mark slumped his head on Maya's lap, falling asleep inside her protective arms. Maya affectionately caressed the boy's soft hair, her eyes looking out the bus window glass covered in a layer of hazy frost.
SCREEECH!
A harsh screeching sound of brakes abruptly sounded, tearing apart the silent space. The bus swayed violently, lurching forward then jolting to a stop in the middle of the road. The children inside the bus snapped awake, screaming out loud in fear.
In front of the bus, two gray SUV cars with no license plates had pulled across, completely blocking the single passageway.
Before anyone could understand what was happening, the bus door was violently smashed open by a forceful strength. Four burly men, wearing black combat gear with no logos and hideous gas masks, rushed onto the bus. In their hands were black submachine guns, emanating a cold, bone-crushing murderous intent.
The middle-aged driver had no time to raise an alarm before a bear-clawed fellow rushed forward, grabbing his hair and violently dragging him down onto the bus floor. The sound of a gun butt striking heavily against the driver's head echoed with a dry crack, fresh blood spurting onto the window glass. The screaming cries of five-year-old children erupted fiercely, chaotic like a miniature hell.
"Shut your mouths, all of you!" A fellow with a long scar running across his forehead gritted his teeth, his voice rasping through his mask sounding spine-chilling. He swung his dark gun barrel across every row of seats, raising his voice to ask in a slurred, ruthless English:
"Which teacher... is the person who saw our man's face that night?"
Maya's heart leaped a beat and then plummeted straight down an abyss with no bottom. All the blood in her body seemed to freeze solid. It was them. The warning in the message was not a joke, but a life-and-death trap set with a predetermined hour.
Seeing the gun barrel pointing toward the trembling children, among whom was Mark frantically clutching her waist tightly, Maya took a deep breath. She slowly released Mark, standing up between the rows of seats.
"It's me..." Maya spoke up, though her entire body trembled, her eyes looked straight at the hitman. "I am the only person who was there. The children know absolutely nothing! Please... please release the children and the other teachers! I will go with you!"
Mark looked up at her, his ash-grey eyes drenched in tears, his small hand reaching out clutching her skirt hem: "Ms. Maya... don't go... Ms. Maya!"
Maya stooped down, pressing her ice-cold hand against the boy's cheek, flashing a smile so gentle it tore the heart: "Be good, Mark... listen to teacher. Everything will be fine..."
The hitman curled his lip behind his mask. He shoved Maya hard, causing her to collapse onto the bus floor, using a pitch-black cloth sack to completely cover her head. Before her vision turned entirely into a deep black color, Maya heard his voice gritting out an order to his accomplices: "Let this bus go. The sole target is her."
Light vanished. The space surrounding Maya was left with only the chaotic sounds of the car engine roaring, the violent jolting of the vehicle speeding over bumpy roads, and the sound of her heart pounding rapidly as if wanting to explode out of her chest.
Both her hands were bent behind her back, bound tightly with plastic zip ties cutting deep into her wrists to the point of drawing blood.
The car moved for over an hour. Maya did not know where she was being taken. Fear, exhaustion, along with the stifling air inside the black sack made her head begin to grow dazed and delirious.
When the car stopped, Maya was grabbed under the armpits by two men and dragged along. She heard the sound of footsteps thumping on wet concrete floors, the moldy smell of broken bricks, and the rust smell of decayed metal. This was clearly a warehouse or an industrial base long abandoned deep within the forest.
SNAP!
The black cloth sack was yanked off violently. Blinding light from a high-power floodlight shone directly into her face, making Maya narrow her eyes in pain.
As her vision gradually recovered, she realized she was tied bent over on a rusty iron chair in the middle of a vast, gloomy space. Standing around her were five or six men holding weapons. But standing in the center, right beneath the beam of floodlight, was a man wearing an expensive gray suit whose eyes emanated ultimate ruthlessness and betrayal.
He was not Travis, nor was he the hitman from that night. He was a stranger — a trusted henchman belonging to a traitorous branch of the family, someone secretly shaking hands with a third party in a bloody power struggle to overthrow Travis.
"Young teacher..." The man in the gray suit walked closer, using a cane to lightly tap Maya's chin, lifting her pale face up. "You ruined an entire plan worth tens of millions of dollars of ours at St. Jude School. Do you know how much big trouble you have caused?"
"I... I know nothing at all!" Maya gasped for breath, every drop of sweat mixed with tears streaming down her cheeks. Her voice was choked up, pleading in despair: "I am merely an intern teacher... I don't know who you people are, nor do I know what conflict Mr. Travis or your family has! Please let me go... I swear I won't say a single word to anyone!"
The man in the gray suit burst out laughing — a dry laughter, ruthless like the friction of metal.
"Know nothing, huh?" He narrowed his eyes, his gaze cold like ice. "A poor teacher who knows nothing yet could get the child out of the hands of our professional hitman? A teacher who knows nothing yet was personally provided with a protective net by Travis throughout the past week? Do you think I am a fool?"
"I truly don't know!" Maya screamed through tears, helplessness overflowing her chest. "I only wanted to save my student! I know nothing about your war!"
"Whether you know or not... you have still seen the face of our hitman," The man pulled out a silver-plated handgun from his coat pocket, leisurely attaching a suppressor to the muzzle tip. "And more importantly, your existence is a dangerous variable. Our boss needs to eliminate every possible risk related to Travis."
The person ordering this execution was not the Supreme Boss of the family. The Supreme Boss needed Maya's heart and living life intact for another terrifying secret. But the person standing before her at this moment belonged to a traitorous faction — someone who wanted to destroy her to silence the witness and erase all traces of mistakes they had made in the failed kidnapping of Mark!
Click.
The sound of chambering a bullet rang out crisply in the quiet space of the abandoned warehouse.
Maya closed her eyes tightly. In the moment on the boundary between life and death, her head was completely dazed. She didn't understand. She truly could not understand why the life of a poor intern teacher, who only knew how to love children and try her best to live well every day, ended in a way so unreasonable, tragically miserable, and ruthless to this degree. She was swept into a bloody vortex whose roots she was completely naive to and knew nothing about.
The hitman walked close, shoving Maya's shoulder hard, causing her personal wallet to fall out from her apron pocket, landing thud onto the cold concrete floor.
Thud.
The wallet burst open. The scribbled crayon drawing paper fell out, swaying in the air before landing neatly beneath a layer of dim dust.
The image of two people holding hands under a bright yellow sun, along with Mark's wobbly line of text: "Ms. Maya is my mother" appeared faintly beneath the floodlight.
The hitman coldly stomped his expensive shoe sole onto that crayon drawing, crushing those naive lines of text into smudged streaks of color. He aimed the silencer-attached gun barrel directly at Maya's temple.
Pfft.
A small, quiet explosion like the sound of a popping balloon echoed out.
Excruciating pain erupted in an extremely brief moment and then flickered out. Maya's entire world collapsed into an abyss of black, cold, and eternal nothingness. She drew her last breath while a streaming tear still remained on the corner of her eye, carrying her naive faith and ultimate warmth regarding the drawing of her little student.
Maya was dead. She died amidst cold and pain without ever knowing... what she was murdered for.
⚠️ YOU HAVE REACHED A BAD ENDING:
You never knew what you were killed for.
The stubbornness to return to normal life and refuse the protection of the family turned you into an easy target for traitors in the dark.
🔄 PLEASE RETURN TO [CHAPTER 10] TO MAKE A DIFFERENT CHOICE!
