Voices and music mingled and swirled through the golden air, painting a picture of lavish comfort as he watched the target over the rim of his glass. The target in question was a man that fit into this lavish scene perfectly, with golden skin, dark brown hair, and an air of authority radiating from his body. He moved with lethal grace as he strode through the crowd.
Han Jisung tapped his earpiece. “Moving East.”
The target suddenly paused near a large doorway, and his dark gaze swept over the party, as if he were studying the people around him.
Jisung took another slow sip of his drink, casually leaning one shoulder against the wall. He wasn’t one to get nervous on missions, but his team’s target tonight was no joke. Lee Minho was a ruthless man known for being impossible to track and predict. If things didn’t go according to plan, his team could easily lose everything.
“Looks like he’s getting ready to leave.”
“Standing by,” Changbin’s voice came through.
A waitress suddenly approached Jisung. “More wine, sir?”
“No, thank you.” He tipped his head politely, but was suddenly on high alert as she walked away. Minho was gone. Jisung frantically looked around. “I’ve lost eyes on him.”
Changbin didn’t hesitate. “On it.”
Jisung moved through the crowd, his demeanor casual despite the fact he was internally panicking. “Eyes?”
“Currently searching,” Felix’s deep voice responded.Â
Faces in the crowd were beginning to blur as he failed to spot the target. How could he lose him after looking away for one second?
“He’s in the south hallway,” Felix suddenly announced.
“Don’t rush in, Han,” Changbin warned. “I’ll be there soon.”
“We can’t lose him.” Jisung set his glass down on a random table as he exited the main party and strode down the south hallway. He wasn’t necessarily the strongest fighter on his team, but he could handle himself well enough. Catching Minho was far more important than waiting for backup.
“I’ve lost the camera signal, this looks bad-” Felix’s voice was cut off abruptly, and Jisung had just touched his earpiece when something big moved at his side. Something hard slammed into his head, making him stumble.
Hands grabbed his arms and wrenched them back while his head was pushed forward. Jisung struggled but quickly stopped upon feeling something cold and sharp press against his head.
“Come without a fuss and we won’t make a mess,” a cold, female voice offered. She yanked Jisung’s earpiece out and crushed it under her black heels. “Shall we?”
Jisung gritted his teeth as they pushed him down another, smaller corridor. In his situation, he needed to see how things played out. Fighting wasn’t much of an option at the moment anyway.
It didn’t take long for them to drag him to a small, dark room where they pushed him into a wooden chair and zip-tied his hands on either side.
He let out a humorless laugh. “Is that really necessary?”
“With you, it is.” Jisung’s body tensed at the new voice in front of him.
Minho stepped away from the shadowed wall, adjusting the cuffs of his black suit, and studied the man in the chair. His dark, silvery dyed hair was disheveled, but his suit was clean and unwrinkled. His eyes were sharp, complimenting his heart shaped face, and his glare was made to kill. How amusing.
Jisung watched Minho warily, wondering what he could be thinking. He looked far too smug, but also strangely happy, and Jisung didn’t dare say anything.
“Han Jisung, a member of the mafia group known as Nightfield, twenty-two years old, and more trained in intelligence than combat.” Minho raised an eyebrow. “Did I get everything right?”
Jisung shouldn’t have been surprised. “So you did your research. What do you want?”
“I should be asking you that question. You’ve been keeping an eye on me all evening, it was impossible not to notice.” Minho suddenly bent down to Jisung’s level, making him lean as far away as the chair would allow. “So I’ll ask nicely, what do you want from me?”
“I’m sure you could guess.” Jisung was trying to buy Changbin time to get to him before resorting to spilling his guts.
Minho’s smile was slow and wicked. “You’re stuck with me for awhile, so you might as well get comfortable and answer all my questions. Or I have ways of coaxing it out of you.” He flicked a knife open and set it against his captive’s cheek.
Jisung fought the sudden urge to laugh. He wasn’t entirely sure why he wanted to laugh, but no good would come from doing that in this psycho’s face. “You’re Lee Minho, the one destroying the way of the mafia, why else do you think I’m after you?”
“Oh, come on,” Minho finally stepped back, “you can give me something better than that. I have a lot of enemies, but they each have their own motive. What’s yours?”
Changbin, where are you?
Jisung opted for silence. If Minho was going to torture him, he could handle it… probably.
“Sir, they’re closing in,” one of the body guards informed.
Minho’s eyes didn’t leave Jisung. “Go take care of it. I’m not in the mood to be rushed.”
Jisung wasn’t either. He was still working on twisting his way out of his binds, and if he was left alone with this man, he wouldn’t have time to escape. “I thought you weren’t worried about my team. Scared they’ll find me?”
“A mess is a mess, and I would like to avoid one. If your people show up before I’m done, there will be plenty of blood spilt.” Minho motioned to his men and they left without another word.
Shit, I need to buy more time.
“You might as well kill me, I’m not going to talk.”
“Giving up already?”
“Far from it. I’m stubborn, so you won’t get anything from me, no matter what you do.” Jisung smirked. “Or do I need to prove it?”
Minho suddenly pressed the knife against Jisung’s throat, drawing a small drop of blood. “You can start proving it by leaving your restraints alone. Deal?”
How did he know? Jisung kept his eyes on his captor’s eyes, his jaw clenched. The blade of the knife was much too close to breaking through his skin, and he needed to prove himself. He would just have to think his way around this.
After a few tense moments, Minho tilted his head with a knowing smile. “How interesting.” He lowered the knife and ran it along Jisung’s arm. It wasn’t until then that he saw some strange substance lacing the blade of the knife. “I hate to ruin such a lovely suit, but it can’t be helped.”
Jisung bit down a gasp as the blade slashed into his arm. The sting of the cut radiated up his arm. Ignore it. Minho let out an impressed hum and moved the knife to the other arm. He cut it just the same as the other one. Once again, Jisung kept his mouth shut.
“If I continue, you may very well bleed out. So you might as well start talking.” The captive didn’t respond. “Hmm. Perhaps your arms aren’t quite sensitive enough for this to work. Let’s try another spot, shall we?”
Jisung inhaled sharply as Minho set the knife just below his collarbone. This was going to hurt.
“I’ll make it easier for you and start with a simple question. How long have you been tracking me?”
“Long enough.”
Minho raised his eyebrows. “Oh, so you do talk.”
“Only when I feel free to do so.” Jisung felt a tug of victory as the blood running down his arms made his restraints slick and easier to move against.
“Now answer the question in detail. ‘Long enough’ doesn’t tell me anything.” The knife dug into his skin, making him flinch. “How long?”
Jisung ignored the pain as he focused on freeing himself. Just a little more.
“Answer me, Han. I don’t want to make more of a mess than I already have.”
“You don’t have to.” Jisung yanked one of his arms free, knocking the knife from Minho’s hand, and kicked him back. As Minho stumbled, Jisung freed his other arm.
An explosion suddenly shook the room, knocking both men to the ground. The walls rumbled and the ceiling cracked.
Jisung stumbled to his feet and made a break for the door. He had just thrown it open when the wall in front of him exploded. His body flew and his vision blacked out as he landed hard. A sharp ringing clouded his head and he coughed. Muffled gunshots rang through the air.
What on Earth was happening? Nightfield didn’t bring explosives on this mission.
Jisung tried shaking the dizziness from his head. He needed to find his way out. He needed to get in contact with Changbin.
A figure appeared through the smoke and dust, too tall to be his partner, but too broad to be Minho. The figure ran toward him. “Jisung!”
Jisung let out a breath of relief as he recognized his leader’s voice. “I’m here, Chan!”
Chan ran over and crouched at his side. “Can you walk? We’ve gotta get out of here.”
“Yeah, I can do it.” With the help of his don, Jisung staggered to his feet and allowed Chan to support him. “What the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know, that’s the problem.”
The pair limped their way out of the burning hotel, Chan listening to his earpiece and Jisung wondering how he made it out of there alive. Well, mostly alive. His arms were now completely soaked in blood, his head was pounding, and he was dizzy. Felix pulled up in the getaway car, and as he got out, Jisung’s eyes rolled back and the world went dark.
——————— We’re gettin’ right into the action, heck yeah. I love starting books like that. Hope you enjoyed, lmk what you think so far! Thanks for reading \(‘ V ‘)/
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