Several hours later, Susan woke up with the severest headache she had ever had in her entire life. It felt like oil was seeping out of her ears from how heavy her head was.

"Ugh…"

Her skull throbbed with each heartbeat, sending waves of nausea through her body. Everything felt hazy, disconnected. She tried to remember where she was, what had happened, but thoughts slipped away before she could grasp them.

"What the hell… that bitch!"

The memories hit her all at once. The boy. Chris. His fingers down her throat. The crushing sensation of her windpipe being blocked. The darkness that followed.

Susan's eyes snapped open, fury replacing her confusion. She tried to stand, to get to her feet—but her body didn't respond. No. Her body responded… she just couldn't move?

"Ack!" A sharp pain lanced through her damaged eye, the rusted bar still poking through it. She couldn't even reach up to touch it. Couldn't move her arms at all.

…And she couldn't even move her head. She could, but she couldn't exert enough force to do so.

The chains rattled as she struggled, metal scraping against her stone limbs. She looked up and finally managed to at least move her head an inch. The only thing she saw, however, was her entire arm wrapped in chains and stretched above her head.

No. The chain practically wrapped around her shoulders and chest. She could also feel her entire legs bound, ankles chained to opposite corners of the cell.

Adam… wrapped her like a mummy.

"W-what the fuck!" Susan screamed, her voice echoing off the dungeon walls. Every time she tried to pull, the restraints bit deeper into her skin.

"Marcus! Cal!" She called out the names of her men, her voice cracking. "Get down here!"

She thrashed against the bonds for what felt like hours, screaming until her throat was raw. And soon, her stone limbs began to fade, turning to flesh.

Her voice followed next, and Susan now lay panting against the cold floor, completely exhausted. Sweat mixed with dried blood on her face. Her damaged eye wept tears she couldn't wipe away.

Then she heard footsteps in the corridor above. Multiple people.

"Finally," she croaked, relief flooding through her. "About damn time. Marcus!"

The footsteps grew closer. Susan prepared to unleash her fury on her incompetent crew for taking so long to find her.

But when the figures appeared in her cell doorway, her relief curdled into confusion.

These weren't her men. Three individuals in expensive suits stood before her, their faces cold and stoic. Behind them, more figures waited in the shadows.

"Who the fuck are you people?" Susan snarled. "Are you with that little shit Chris?!"

The suited figures stepped aside, making room for someone else to enter. An elderly woman emerged from the darkness. Her gray hair was pulled back severely, and her eyes held a coldness that made even Susan almost whimper.

It was Dr. Aniston.

"Is this him?" Dr. Aniston asked, pulling out a tablet and showing an image of Adam.

Susan squinted at the picture—and quickly realized that these people weren't with Adam at all.

"You're not with him," she whispered, a slow smirk spreading across her bloodied lips. "I know where he went. And I'll tell you... for a price."

"Kill her."

"Huh?" Susan blinked as she watched Dr. Aniston suddenly pull back and just turn around.

"Wait, did you hear me correctly?" Susan raised her voice, nervously chuckling. "I said I know where—"

Dr. Aniston didn't even turn around. Her footsteps echoed up the corridor as the other suited figures filed out behind her.

Another set of footsteps whispered from the corridor. Heavier. Much… heavier.

Bjorn.

"Wait…" Susan's eyes widened. "I know who you are. Aren't you supposed to be in prison?!"

Bjorn only looked her in the eye while cracking his large knuckles.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Susan screamed as the Silent Brawler approached. "I can help you find him! I know things! I—"

Adam was right. Even with the smugglers taking them off his scent, The Hospital was still able to track him.

Well, almost.

Miles away, Adam was kneeling on the ground, dirt caking under his fingernails as he patted the earth down hard.

"That… should be fine," he whispered to himself. "It doesn't look like there's a million dollars buried here, right?"

He squinted at the patch of dirt and then walked away before returning with twigs and leaves, scattering them across the surface to erase any obvious signs of the treasure he had buried underneath.

From his pocket, he pulled a ragged cloth and tied it around one of the twigs. This was what he talked about with Grace—he would take what he needed, and then bury the rest of her and the others to claim once things settled down for them.

He didn't bother counting the money; he just took four stacks of bills for himself.

"That… should be fine, right?" he whispered, and looked at the stacks of cash on the ground. "It… should be fine."

Count it, Adam.

He grabbed them and then placed them into his new backpack, which he took from the truck along with the electric bicycle.

The electric bicycle. Perhaps even more so than the cash, he was more excited about this. He stepped back from the bike, taking it in properly for the first time.

Black frame with gray metal accents, sleek lines that made it look futuristic.

Count the money.

"Good, good."

He stared at it for several seconds…

"Hm… right."

…then shook his head at himself with a bitter laugh. Here he was, admiring a bike like some kid, when he could've taken all the money and disappeared forever. Hidden somewhere the Hospital would have a hard time finding him.

But hiding was useless now.

He was part of the Game. Sooner or later, he would be exposed to the entire world… if he wasn't already.

Count the money already.

Sooner or later, he would have to face the Hospital head-on. Who was he even kidding? No amount of money could fully hide him from the Hospital now.

And sooner or later, he would also be able to earn money legitimately through the Leaks.

His future… was no longer monotonous.

For now, though, survival meant avoiding the Hospital at all co—

Count the money!

"Okay." Adam groaned, shaking his head as he finally gave in to his thoughts and unzipped his backpack. He grabbed one stack and ripped the plastic wrap tight around it.

"Hm. Okay…" He started counting, his eyes widening each time he flipped another bill.

"Ten thousand dollars," he whispered to himself.

"There's ten thousand dollars here."

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