Chapter 1

I was strolling through the mall when a middle-aged woman suddenly lunged out and slapped me across the face. "You home-wrecker!" she shrieked. "I'll kill you! I'll absolutely kill you!"

Stunned, I clutched my stinging cheek, staring in disbelief at the expensively dressed woman.

1

"Who are you calling a home-wrecker, lady? You've got the wrong person!"

I finally managed to retort. But that just made her wilder. She grabbed my hair, pinching me hard, all while screaming that I was a mistress and beckoning passersby to witness the spectacle.

Confused onlookers pointed fingers, but no one stepped in to help.

I opened my mouth to protest, but then I suddenly remembered articles I'd seen on GoodNovel about how human traffickers often use this exact tactic to abduct women.

Oh my God. This was a human trafficker!

Falling into the hands of traffickers? That's a fate worse than death. If that's my destiny, I'd rather take her down with me right here, right now. At least I'd be eliminating one of them.

Despite her expensive clothes, her hands were large and calloused, clearly from years of manual labor. That solidified my suspicion even more.

So, instead of arguing, I waited for her to speak, then lunged, grabbing a handful of her hair.

I went all out, like a damn wildcat, fighting for my life.

"Ah—" The expensively dressed woman never expected me to fight back.

In her twisted mind, a young girl like me would be too embarrassed, too panicked. She probably thought I'd just cry and try to explain myself.

She never saw *this* coming.

I yanked her hair so hard, her grip on me loosened, and her knees buckled. She nearly collapsed.

I seized the opportunity, twisting her head back, my elbow locked firmly around her neck.

The middle-aged woman shrieked in terror, her face beet red. "What are you doing, you bitch! You seduced my husband, and now you dare to hit me? Someone, quick! Come help me beat this home-wrecker!"

"What a waste, a young girl like you, being a homewrecker. Let that woman go!"

"Yeah, how could you be like that?"

"Look at her, dressed so provocatively, crop top and all, she’s definitely trouble."

The onlookers buzzed with chatter, most just there for the show. But then a few "kind-hearted" people actually stepped forward, ready to intervene on Brenda's behalf.

I wasn't sure if these people were her accomplices, but I knew if they got any closer, I was done for.

Without a second thought, I ripped the metal hair stick from my hair.

I was incredibly grateful that day, for the first time ever, that I'd chosen a heavy, decorative metal hair stick to go with my outfit.

Without hesitation, I plunged the hair stick into the woman's thigh. She let out a bloodcurdling scream.

"Stay back! Come any closer and I'll kill her!"

Blood streamed down the woman's pants, startling everyone. They recoiled in horror, the scene rapidly escalating from a 'homewrecker brawl' to what looked like a full-blown assault.

"Ah! Ah! Help! Help me! This crazy woman!" Brenda shrieked, terrified.

But I just smirked, a chilling, almost manic grin spreading across my face, like someone who'd just escaped the asylum.

"You're screaming for help, but why not call the police? I can help you with that." I whispered into Brenda's ear, just loud enough for everyone around to hear.

"What's wrong? Got something you don't want the cops hearing about?"

At that, Brenda's face flushed crimson. She nervously averted her eyes and stammered, "You're full of crap, you homewrecker! How dare you be so arrogant? Oh my God, is there no justice? I stood by my husband, eating ramen and working our butts off at flea markets, just to scrape by. We finally made something of ourselves, and then he throws away all our hard work on *you*! A five-thousand-dollar purse? He probably didn't even blink!"

Brenda's mind worked fast. She knew exactly what would tug at people's heartstrings. Clearly, she was experienced.

Sure enough, her words instantly garnered some sympathy.

"A homewrecker being so arrogant? Don't be afraid, everyone, let's go up and grab her, strip her clothes—"

An elderly woman, who had been watching from the sidelines with her grocery bags, fumed, hands on her hips, spewing insults, clearly trying to manipulate the crowd, to turn public opinion against me.

2

But before she could finish, I grabbed Brenda's head and slammed it, *hard*, against the clear glass barrier of the mall walkway.

The sudden impact drained all the strength from Brenda's body, and she crumpled to the floor.

But I wasn't done. I tightened my hold on her neck, glaring at the elderly woman in the crowd who was still trying to rally people against me.

Every word the old lady uttered, I punctuated by slamming the suspected trafficker's head against the glass once more.

"Ah—Call 911! Quick, call 911—" A gash had opened on Brenda's forehead, blood trickling down her face, a truly terrifying sight.

She weakly begged the crowd for help.

Everyone was shocked and slowly realized something was deeply wrong. Phones were already coming out to call 91