Kim's hands were shaking so hard she could barely hold the gun. She pressed herself flat against a steel pillar, hiding in position.
In front of her stood Mr. Weekend, acting as the loudest, most arrogant decoy imaginable.
The room went dead quiet. Even the hostages stopped weeping, their eyes darting toward the entryway.
The only sound left was the slow, steady click of boots on concrete. Not rushing. Not even bothered.
Then the footsteps stopped, right on the other side of the blast door.
Weekend's chest heaved. He practically vibrated with excitement, grinning like a maniac behind his skeletal mask. He couldn't wait to rip apart the guy who had destroyed two of the Shinigami sectors.
Kim didn't feel excited. She felt sick. Her throat was bone-dry as she braced herself.
Weekend jerked his head toward the control panel, silently ordering the technician to open up. But the tech just froze, mouth agape as he realized that the door was already no longer locked.
