Updated

Bangchan leaned casually against the wall, the dim lights of the club casting shadows across his sharp features as he sipped from his glass. His eyes scanned the room, sharp and alert, always working—even if he looked relaxed. The mission was simple: eliminate the target. No mistakes.

Minho stood beside him, arms crossed, blending in effortlessly with the crowd. Across the room, Han leaned against the bar, pretending to be uninterested while his eyes followed the target’s movements.

Bangchan’s gaze, however, was fixed on you.

You were in the center of the dance floor, hips swaying to the beat, eyes half-lidded with a playful glint. You knew exactly what you were doing. The men around you were completely distracted, just as planned. That was your role: the distraction. The bait. Still, Bangchan’s jaw tensed slightly as one guy reached out a little too confidently. Minho noticed. So did Han.

“She’s really getting into it,” Han said through the comm in his ear, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Bangchan didn’t reply—just tightened his grip on the glass, eyes not leaving you for a second.