Dear Ex-wife Marry Me by Twin Bridge

Dylan froze in place, certain images flashing through his mind. His cheeks flushed with an unnatural tint as he awkwardly pushed

her away.

Clearing his throat, he realized he wasn't alone; a few pairs of eyes were fixed on him amidst the surrounding clamor.

"What's the deal now?"

Walter, seeing the girl's charming looks and impressive moves - not to mention her forwardness - felt a twinge of envy.

"Dylan, buddy, you've got sluck. You take a nap and wake up to find we're about to wrap this up."

Dylan rubbed his temples, about to speak, when the girl's hand slowly snaked around his back, locking him in place.

He stiffened, sidestepping away, but she mirrored his every move. His head pounded with a dull ache. Ignoring her for the

moment, he turned to lan.

"What's our play now?"

lan's gaze drifted to Sarah, who had been daydreaming since she first saw Dylan. She snapped back to reality.

"The chaos is probably Philip's doing. He must've figured out we infiltrated the place. This whole stunt is likely just to flush you out.

We can't get that badge off him now; he's gone into hiding, probably bunkered down in the control room - the most fortified part of

the entire compound. If he doesn't open the door willingly, there's no way to breach it from the outside. He's watching the whole

show from there, hoping those test subjects will take us out. And if they don't, he's got the whole pharmacy at his disposal."

Philip. A guy like Philip, always on

about the infiltration.

enough to want to destroy everything here. Mad and

badge was now out of the question. As lan was about to ask something, Philip's voice boomed

"Gotcha."

hint of amusement in that voice. Philip's lips curled into an excited smile as he watched the screens

echoed everywhere. A minute later, images of lan and

once used by the high-ups to monitor the central hall, now showed real-tsurveillance of lan and his

cameras here were all hidden; there was no way

if he had known their

sounded again at this

people, and I'll call off

it."

joined in, chuckling foolishly,

like those survival games he used to play, where only a few could make it out alive. Instantly,

then, the ground trembled

on all these researchers. Even a battle

the explosives."

raspy, "Using explosives could trigger a quake. We

chance. If we don't,

in the base, and with their faces plastered on the big screen, the panicked crowd would

words and attack

desperate crowd might use. The best plan was to retreat

them off. If an

back, attackers converged on them from all

core lab, Walter was sent flying with a punch. It was Number 8, who, like all