Naïve as we were, my brother and I followed him into the car, laughing and excited.
But when we arrived at that desolate mountain peak, the night turned cold—and deadly.
The moment we stepped out of the car, several burly men burst out of the tall grass, eyes gleaming with malice.
My brother reacted first—two punches, two men down—but before he could handle the rest, Felix clung to his leg, screaming for help.
"Help! Don't hurt my brother!"
I tried to run forward, but a cloth drenched in something sweet-smelling clamped over my nose and mouth.
Within seconds, my limbs went weak, my vision blurred.
"Lenon!"
Noah's panicked voice echoed as he tried to reach me—but another thug smothered him with the same drugged handkerchief.
In less than a minute, we were both unconscious, sprawled on the dirt.
The two who'd been "crying and screaming" moments ago suddenly started laughing.
"Take them far away. Don't kill them—just make it convincing. And make sure it's all caught clearly on camera."
Sheila crouched beside my brother, gave his cheek a sharp pat, and sneered. "Especially this one. I want him ruined for life."
The gang leader chuckled, rubbing his grimy hands together.