Wu Haoyu's POV:
The chopper spun like a damn top, tail smoking where that merc rocket grazed it—metal screamed, blades whined, and my stomach flipped as we dropped. Yanyan was limp in my arms—blood soaking me, her thigh a mess, pulse weak under my fingers—and I held her tight, yelling her name over the chaos: "Yanyan! Stay with me!" Her head lolled, eyes shut, that hood fire dimmed by blood loss and painkiller haze, but I wasn't letting her go—not after Yang Wei, not after everything. My leg burned—bullet graze oozing, ribs bruised—but I braced, rope cutting my hands as the chopper banked hard, fighting to stay up.
"Hold on!" Lin Mei shouted from the door, pistol blazing at the merc cars below—sleek, black, bastards back with their rocket launcher. She clipped one, blood spraying, but the chopper lurched, pilot cursing over the comms: "Tail's gone—crash landing!"
