You stumbled toward your car, heart hammering against your ribs.

It was over.

After months of hunting him down, months of chasing shadows and dead ends, the mission was finally complete.

Yeonjae was dead.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Minutes earlier, you had stood on a rooftop with the city lights glittering below. He never heard you approach. One shove was all it took.

Then he’d disappeared over the edge.

And you ran.

Now, you collapsed into the driver’s seat, a pained groan slipping past your lips as every bruise and cut reminded you of the night’s events.

Your hands shook as you pulled out your phone.

The call connected almost immediately.

“The job’s done,”

you said.

A brief silence followed.

“It better be,”

your boss replied.

“I’m glad you didn’t let your feelings get in the way. Go home. I’ll handle the cleanup.”

Feelings. The word twisted like a knife in your chest.The call ended.

For a moment, you simply sat there, staring at the dark screen of your phone before tossing it onto the passenger seat.

With trembling fingers, you started the engine.

You blinked hard, refusing to let the tears gathering in your eyes fall.

Then, You froze. A voice drifted from the back seat.

Warm. Familiar. Dangerously amused.

“Where to now, darling?”

Your blood turned to ice.

Slowly, almost afraid of what you’d see, you lifted your gaze to the rearview mirror.

A pair of dark eyes met yours.

Yeonjae lounged across the back seat as if he belonged there.

Bruised. Alive. Smiling.

And somehow, that smile was far more terrifying than seeing him fall.