Morning sunlight filtered dimly through the shattered windows of the mall's upper floors. Dust hung in the cold air.
Yumi opened her eyes slowly from where she sat against the wall, her muscles stiff from the uncomfortable night. She instinctively checked beside her—Raika and Akemi huddled close, Emi asleep in Raika's arms, wrapped tightly in a borrowed blanket.
Across the mall's vast main atrium, the mercenaries loitered, their patience wearing thin.
The fake leader—still loudly proclaiming himself as "Wolf"—paced back and forth, his voice growing sharper every hour. He barked useless orders, his behavior becoming more erratic with the lack of response from the police outside.
Meanwhile, the real Wolf, sitting lazily atop a bench near the fountain, read a tattered book, utterly unaffected by the situation. His demeanor was calm—too calm. He occasionally flipped a page, ignoring both his own men and the growing restlessness among the hostages.
Yumi narrowed her eyes, analyzing the situation carefully. "He's not just calm. He's observing," she thought. "He's studying both his men and us."
The tension thickened like a storm cloud. Some hostages began pleading for food and water, their desperation filling the air with panicked whispers.
Their requests were met with swift, brutal denials. A man who begged too loudly received a savage blow to the gut by one of the mercenaries, sending him sprawling to the ground. No one dared speak up after that.
Yumi subtly shifted closer to Raika and Akemi. "Stay calm," she whispered under her breath, feeling Raika flinch slightly beside her.
Akemi kept her head low, sunglasses and a scarf covering most of her face. Yumi had made her keep them on, just in case someone recognized her.
But things were escalating. Fast.
By noon, a few mercenaries began walking through the crowds, pointing at some of the hostages—specifically, the ones who looked well-dressed, clean, and obviously from privileged backgrounds.
It didn't take long before they corralled the school trip students together, pulling them away from the main group roughly.
Yumi clenched her fists. "They're separating the valuable hostages," she thought grimly. "They're preparing for negotiations—or worse."
Her instincts screamed at her that time was running out.
The mercenaries then began another sweep. This time, they demanded everyone hand over their belongings: purses, wallets, jewelry, and most importantly—phones.
Anything that could serve as a tracking device, anything that could hint at identities, was stripped away.
Yumi quickly tucked her police badge deeper into her jacket lining. Raika slipped her small purse under Emi's blanket, pretending to adjust the sleeping baby. Akemi, too, nervously shifted her handbag behind her back, hoping to avoid attention.
For a moment, it seemed to work. The mercenaries' rough search was focused on others.
Until a low voice cut through the crowd like a knife.
"You three," the real Wolf said without even glancing up from his book. "Hand them over."
The entire area seemed to freeze. Even the fake leader stopped yelling for a second, turning to see who Wolf was addressing.
Raika stiffened, her hands clutching Emi tighter. Akemi swallowed hard behind her sunglasses. Yumi kept her expression carefully neutral, but her heart hammered in her chest.
Slowly, all three women looked up at the man known as Wolf.
He didn't even meet their eyes—he just casually turned a page in his book. But his presence was suffocating.
The fake leader grinned nastily and barked, "You heard 'em! Hand it over, or we'll take it from ya!"
The chapter ended with Yumi tightening her jaw, knowing they had no choice but to comply. For now.