The situation was utterly dire. Zhou Qingfeng could almost hear his own heartbeat, thundering like a drum in his chest, reverberating through his ears.
Who could have imagined that two FBI agents would end up killing each other when they had the situation under control?
This absurd scenario seemed like it was ripped straight from a cheesy action movie. Yet, it was unfolding right before his eyes, with no warning or logic to it.
Survival instinct kicked in, and Zhou Qingfeng reacted swiftly. He instinctively dashed into the nearest kitchen, moving like a startled cat, agile and quick.
However, the kitchen was open-plan with a broad space, offering little in terms of hiding spots.
Zhou Qingfeng leaned his back against the countertop, his chest heaving, breathing so heavy it was as if he had just run a marathon.
He clutched a kitchen knife that Julia used for chopping vegetables. The blade shimmered coldly under the LED light overhead. It was the only weapon he could grab.
