Rescuing a Beauty

"Miss, over here!" the little girl cried, tugging Zilan's hand in panic.

"Stay here, all right? I'm going to help Grandpa." Determination edged Zilan's voice, though her eyes were full of worry.

The cellar was well hidden, but cramped. It could hold only about five people, along with the little food stored there.

"Remember, don't move. No matter what you hear, you mustn't come out, and you mustn't cry!" Zilan gripped the little girl's hand and gave her solemn instructions, a faint tremor in her voice.

"I understand!" the little girl said shakily, her wide eyes filled with fear.

Zilan's heart ached as she looked at the girl, but this was no time to grieve. She took a deep breath and turned away.

Yet the moment she ran outside, the sight before her chilled her to the bone.

Ruskin gripped the village chief's severed head in his hand. Grandpa's body lay in a pool of blood that spread across the ground like a scarlet stream. Ruskin stood beside him, his face vicious and cruel. His demonic eyes made Zilan shudder.

Zilan's mind went blank. She could not believe what she was seeing. Grandpa was her only family in the world, the one she had always leaned on. Memories of his love and care flooded her mind.

Grief and rage filled her. Grief battered her heart like surging waves, while rage burned through her like fire.

The strength drained from Zilan's body. Her legs went weak and began to tremble.

Her lips were bloodless, her face deathly pale. Her eyes reddened, and tears spilled down her cheeks, each one heavy with grief and pain. Her sobs grew more anguished, echoing through the stillness.

Ruskin looked at Zilan and smiled viciously. His chilling laughter rang through the air.

Zilan clenched her fists.