Juliet Must Survive | 𝒂𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒚𝒂𝒉.

Chapter 3

As the ringing in his ears quieted, Han slowly opened his eyes, squinting at a bright ray of sunshine almost blinded his sight. As his vision steadied, he found himself staring up at a dark red ceiling covered in shadows from moving tree leaves.

Slightly tilting his head to the right, Han saw the peaceful woodland that was outside the room's window, the trees brightly colored in various shades of reds, oranges and yellows. Very groggy from what had felt like a long nap, he started trying to make out of his whereabouts.

He laid in a double bed inside a normal looking bedroom, but very unfamiliar to him. The air smelled of firewood and hot chocolate, creating a little pit of hunger in his stomach. Reaching for the side of his head, he felt that it was heavily bandaged all around as were both of his knuckles. Looking down at himself, he noticed that his black hoodie and his jeans were slightly burnt. Han then remembered what had previously happened before waking up: Trish's apartment building had blown up just before they could enter it.

Trish.

Where was she?

Is she okay?

Wanting to find her as soon as possible, Han jumped out of the bed in a hurry. However, his body responded quite oppositely, his head almost immediately started to throb intensely and his gut tightened with pain. Han leaned against a nearby wall and wrapped his arm around his stomach, closing his eyes shut to fight back from blacking out. The blow must've been really intense for his body to be in this condition.

Taking a couple of deep breaths, Han staggered towards the bedroom's door, trying his best to push through the pain. If he felt this messed up, he could only imagine how Trish felt right now. Not only was her place destroyed along with some of her neighbors, but they could have died as well if they had made it inside the apartment.

The thought of that sent shivers through Han's spine. Someone out there was trying to kill one of the last people that were important to him.

Carefully opening the door to not create too much noise, Han stumbled into a wooden hallway lined with white embroidered carpet and old-timey gas lamps. The atmosphere was very reminiscent of a luxury cottage, so wherever he was must belong to someone with the funds to take care of this place. This was either really good news or a very dangerous realization.

Still being pressed against the walls in order to support himself up, Han slowly walked the long corridor. He had no idea what it was he hoped to find at the end, but he knew it had to lead him closer to where Trish was. Even though the person or people who'd brought him here looked like they were trying to nurse him, there was no way to confirm that this was a safe place for him to be in. After all, it wouldn't be the first time that someone he thought was on his side betray him.

Han did his best to forget about Kai and the hurt he caused, but it was hard to forget the man that had killed his brother Po. Though it was under the orders of Han's own father, he had always believed that his old friend could have been better than what he turned out to be. He didn't regret killing him in the end, it was a necessary outcome from a battle to the death, but he knew that it couldn't fix his brother's unmerited death.

Po deserved so much better; he might've been a little compulsive and distracted, but for all his flaws, deep down inside, he had a heart of gold. He was always a pacifist and Han knew that his last intention before his murder was to bring peace to the streets of Oakland once and for all. But it didn't matter how good his intentions were, he posed a serious threat to their father and his plan couldn't transpire as long as he was around.

Han still had trouble to refer to Ch'u as his father, the man had been a monster.

Muffled talking noises stopped Han in his tracks, halfway across the hallway. The sounds came from a room not too far from where he had woken up. It sounded like a couple of people were have a discussion, their voices being low. Han straightened himself up and continued advancing towards the room, making fists with his hands. He was not in the best shape to fight right now, but it was the first and most probable option that came to him.

He was a few steps away from the room's door when he heard footsteps coming from across the hallway, in front of him. No doubt it was the people nursing him coming to check up on his condition, they would force him to get back to his room if he was caught. Alarmed by this, Han hobbled faster towards the noisy room, wanting to reach it before anyone could stop him.

Just as his hand grasped the door's handle, Han saw a group of three African-American men turned the corner and were now heading down the hallway. One was dressed in a long black leather coat and black sunglasses while the two other were in casual attire. They quickly noticed the bandaged man in the corridor.

"Hey!" One exclaimed as he pointed at Han.

Rapidly, he turned the handle and rushed inside the room, slamming it shut behind him. His ears rung in protest of his rough movements.

The commotion quieted the people that stood in the room, men that resembled those he saw in the hallway now stared at him like he was an alien that had came down from the sky. Some had reached inside their coats and pockets, but they all stood still, none willing to make a single move. The stillness gave Han enough time to spot a poster that hung above a similar double bed he had been in, showing the artist Prince on a motorcycle with the inscription 'Purple Rain' at the bottom. He recognized it was Trish's poster.

Loud banging then came from behind him, shaking up the door that he was holding shut. It rattled Han's head, causing a bit of dizziness.

"Hey! Let us in!" A loud voice boomed as the banging continued.

The men inside the room all kept looking at Han, who suddenly felt the need to move out of the way before the situation could escalate. As he hobbled away from the door and into the middle of the semi-circle the men formed, he mentally prepared his escape plan. The door flew open and the other men entered, scanning the scene.

"Okay, everyone out," the one in the long leather coat ordered, taking off his sunglasses and locking eyes with Han. "We'll handle this."

As the gathering started to exit, he started walking towards his bandaged target. Sensing this as a sign of danger, Han put his fists up to send him a clear message: don't mess with me. This made the man smirk, but he kept coming closer to Han. Taking this a a threat, Han threw the first punch, missing his face from a few inches, and brought his knee towards his gut. His opponent violently pushed him to the ground before reaching for his gun and pointing it at Han.

Momentarily out of breath due to the impact, Han clutched his stomach and looked up at the gun's barrel pointed in between his eyes.

"What's going on in here?"

Trish barged into the room, concerned by the noise she'd heard from outside. Her eyes widened when she saw the scene that was taking place, immediately lunging towards the armed man and ripping out the gun from his hand.

"Get off of him!" She pushed him aside and kneeled next to Han. "Oh my gosh, are you okay?"

Han placed his hand on her knee, which he felt had been wrapped in bandages. "Trish... You're here..."

"Yes, I'm here, Han. Everything's okay now."

When Han looked up at her, he saw the plaster on Trish's forehead where dried blood had seeped through, her knuckles were also bandaged. "What happened to you? Are you hurt?"

"To be honest, I could be better. I'm just happy that you're okay."

Then entered another man, but he was different from the others that roamed in the cottage. Wrapped in a silky white robe with matching pants and leaning on a golden cane, he smiled sweetly at Trish.

"Yes, we're glad you're okay," the robed man said with a gentle voice, "those injuries looked very serious."

"You remember my dad," Trish helped Han sit up straight. "He's the one who brought us here."

Han bowed his head respectfully. "Oh, thank you, sir."

"It was what I had to do," Isaak lowered his gaze, his smile dropping, "they tried to kill my baby girl."

"Daddy, what's going on?" His daughter asked. "I thought you were done with-"

"They've come back for me," he whispered, "for Ch'u."

"But I don't understand, he's dead. Why are-"

"I'm sorry, Trisha. I made a terrible mistake."

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