The night sky of Seoul was torn open by gunfire. Muzzle flashes cracked against the horizon, lighting up the edges of rooftop billboards and neon-lit signs. Lin ducked behind a rusted ventilation duct, the concrete around him erupting as bullets smacked into it, sending sharp chips into the air. His pulse hammered in his ears, steady and relentless, like the ticking of a countdown he couldn't escape.
Keller slid into cover beside him, rifle clutched tight, his breath ragged. "They're everywhere, Lin. Left flank's crawling. I count at least eight—no, ten."
Lin risked a glance. Across the gap of narrow rooftops, black-clad silhouettes darted along parapets and scaffolding. Red targeting dots swept over walls and metal, scanning. Jin's men had moved with frightening coordination, bottling them up in less than a minute.
"Min-joon!" Lin barked.
