chapter2:[ sweet&lethal]part 2
1718 Words
After pondering for a few more minutes, I made up my mind. I walked over to the mini-bar and grabbed a whiskey bottle with thick, heavy glass.
Perfect, I thought.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped toward the door, turned the handle, and poked just my head out. The guards looked at me in surprise.
"U-Um... I don't know what happened. We were in bed, and he suddenly fainted," I stammered, forcing desperate panic into my voice.
Hearing this, the guards rushed inside, one right after the other. The one in front sprinted to check on his boss. That was my opening.
I locked onto the guard at the back, raised the heavy bottle, and slammed it down onto the nape of his neck with everything I had.
The sound of shattering glass against bone echoed through the room. The man crashed face-first onto the floor, dead weight. Within seconds, the white tiles, dimly lit by the red ambiance, turned a dark, sickening shade. His blood spilled, spreading like a river bursting its banks after a torrential downpour.
The second guard reacted in a heartbeat, pulling the gun from his waistband.
No time to think.
I lunged forward with full speed and delivered a precise kick straight to his wrist. The pistol flew from his grip, slammed hard against the wall near the wine rack, and skittered across the floor—completely out of reach.
An intense, brutal hand-to-hand fight broke out.
Enraged, the man was far larger than me. He charged with a rapid direct jab aimed at my face, but I spun on my heel and slipped past it. I felt the rush of displacement air brush past my skin. Millimeters away.
Now I was behind him. Taking advantage of the opening, I delivered a vicious kick to the back of his knee, striking the tendons flush. The man buckled, but like a furious bull, he recovered instantly. He threw his weight—nearly double mine—to pin me against the wall.
I ducked beneath his forearm, narrowly escaping his trap once again. But before I could reposition, his heavy hand tangled into my hair and the back of my neck, yanking me backward with raw savagery.
As effortlessly as throwing a ragdoll, he launched me.
My small frame slammed hard against the wall. Blinding pain surged through my body, leaving every nerve throbbing. But I had no choice. I scrambled to my feet just as he threw himself at me again. To evade his reach, I dove to the floor.
Though I was fast, the man had immense physical dominance. If he pinned me down, it was over.
Luckily, I didn't plan on letting him.
From the floor, my eyes locked onto the handgun I had kicked away earlier. I crawled frantically toward it, but like a steel chain, something clamped down around my leg. His heavy grip locked onto my ankle, dragging me back.
"Little bitch... where do you think you're going?" he grunted in triumph.
Idiot. Celebrating too early.
I flipped onto my back to face him, drove my leg back, and delivered a violent kick straight into the bridge of his nose. The crunch made him instantly let go to clutch his bloody face.
"f**k! You little w***e! You're going to pay for this!"
An empty threat.
The moment my leg was free, I threw myself forward and swept the gun into my palm. Spinning around with fluid precision, I lined up the sight with his chest and squeezed the trigger.
Thwip.
The muffled sound of the suppressed pistol cut through the air like a sharp hiss.
The impact dropped him to his knees, but driven by pure malice, he still tried to crawl toward me. I pulled the trigger once more, aiming straight between his eyes. He collapsed, lifeless.
Silence. The only sound left in the dark room was the frantic thumping of my own heart.
Lying on the cold floor, I closed my eyes, my head spinning violently from the impact against the wall.
Damn it... I hit my head way too hard, I thought, keeping my eyelids pressed shut. The overwhelming weight of the fight, paired with the chronic exhaustion of being sent on this emergency mission without a single break, was finally catching up to me.
I took deep, steadying breaths, waiting for the dizziness to recede and my pulse to settle.
Once I regained my footing, I picked myself up, wiped away the cold sweat, adjusted my clothes, and headed for the exit. I cast one last glance over my shoulder, taking in the scene: three bodies lay still in the room—one on the bed, two on the floor.
I turned the knob carefully and stepped out.
I moved quickly toward the elevator, taking it down to the 7th floor, where this private line ended. This sector of the hotel was completely severed from the rest of the building; the private lift only operated from the 7th floor up. To make matters worse—or better for me—every visible camera along the route was killed, a testament to the illegal operations hosted here and the paranoia used to keep it isolated.
The elevator doors slid open, revealing the same hallway the target had dragged me through minutes ago, lined with doors to private rooms. Step by step, I headed toward the lounge. Low chatter echoed down the corridor, and through the sheer curtains and dividers, I could spot the armed guards I had bypassed earlier.
The lounge was even livelier now. Several Omega dancers moved provocatively in front of men lounging on the leather sofas. My eyes instinctively darted to the couch where the Beta target had been sitting earlier, but it was already occupied by someone else.
The entire place reeked of lust. The heavy, suffocating mix of Alpha and Omega pheromones lingering in the air made me feel sick to my stomach.
I pressed on toward the casino area, set further back to afford high-rollers maximum privacy. Cutting through without drawing attention, I reached the main exit lifts and pressed the button for the basement.
Inside the quiet cab, I exhaled, genuinely relieved that getting out was proving easier than expected. Taking advantage of the momentary privacy, I stripped off the waiter's apron and outer shirt, leaving only the dark base-layer undershirt I wore underneath to blend into the crowd.
Tink.
The doors parted at the ground level, which was strangely deserted. I slipped toward the main exit leading out to the highway. Since it was the weekend, traffic was still heavy. My eyes caught the distinct glowing sign of an oncoming taxi. I raised my hand, and the vehicle pulled over smoothly.
I slid into the backseat without looking back.
-Good evening, sir," the driver said, eyeing me through the rearview mirror.
-Drive," I commanded, my voice flat, leaving no room for conversation.
He stepped on the gas immediately. I sank deeper into the plush seat.
"Head toward [****** Street]," I added.
"Yes, sir," he replied, adjusting his route.
I pulled out the mini burner phone reserved strictly for assignments and powered it on. Surgically modified to fit entirely inside a clenched fist, it operated via satellite—completely untraceable. Furthermore, it was hardwired for a single direct line: the agency.
On the second ring, the call connected.
"Listening," a cold voice answered.
"Cherry on the line. It's done," I said, keeping my tone deadpan.
"Acknowledged."
It was Yuki on the other end. She knew damn well it was me, but operating through this encrypted line, identification protocols were mandatory.
[FLASHBACK ON]
"Minjae, where are you?" her voice had echoed through the receiver.
I sighed. As if she didn't know. I had a tracker surgically implanted in my arm.
"This isn't to leash you, Minjae. Our line of work is lethal. If you're ever snatched or worse, I need to be able to retrieve you," those had been her exact words the day she forced me to get it.
"In a car, heading back to my apartment," I replied clipped.
There was a long pause on the other end, as though she was gathering the nerve for what came next. I already knew what she wanted.
"I know you just got back from the assignment in Mexico, but I need you for another one."
"Come to the agency. I'll brief you when you arrive."
The moment I stepped into her office, she slid a classified file across the desk.
TARGET: Kwon Jaemin
BLOOD TYPE: O
SUB-GENDER: Beta
The technical breakdown covered the first page.
"This is your mark," she said coldly. "He's the CEO of Geon Sunshine, heavily entangled with the Russian syndicate in a massive laundering scheme. I need you on this because he's utterly obsessed with Omegas. Yuki set up a fake identity for you to slip in as part of the waitstaff. Jaemin survived an assassination attempt four months ago, so he's hyper-vigilant—be careful. I'm assigning this to you because if he slips away tonight, he'll become a major liability and flee the country immediately."
[FLASHBACK OFF]
Standard protocol dictated that an agent report in person immediately after a hit to turn over the full debrief. Naturally, I treated that rule like a casual suggestion, along with several others. I had a reputation for clean, quiet executions, but the truth was, I didn't care about making a bloody mess if it got the job done. I broke protocol constantly, yet I was never disciplined.
Tonight wouldn't be an exception.
Finally, I let my eyes close, allowing the crushing fatigue of the assignment to claim me. My body relaxed against the gentle vibration of the moving car, the faint hum of the radio lulling me into a drift—soaking in the quiet end of a mission that, fortunately, had gone off without another hitch.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD