Rain drummed relentlessly against the windows of the Moretti estate, turning the world outside into a blur of shadows and streaked glass. Thunder rolled overhead, a low warning growling across the sky.
Jenny San's study with her wet clothes on her .She hadn't even realized she was shaking.
It wasn't just the cold.
It was everything.
The way the guard had collapsed in front of her. The blood. The smoke. The sound of the gunshot still echoing in her skull.
And San. Storming through the chaos like he belonged in it.
A killer. A protector. A contradiction wrapped in shadows.
"Come inside," he said quietly.
She jumped. He was standing in the doorway now, shirt still damp, hair tousled from the storm. There was blood on his forearm—a smear, not his. He hadn't bothered cleaning up.
Jenny hesitated, then stepped inside.
He didn't look at her as he poured a drink. "Sit."
"I'm fine standing."
He arched his brow. "Do you want a drink or not?"
"No."
A beat passed. Then he handed her one anyway.
She looked at it and asked him how if he thought a glass of drink will make her forget what had just happened .
"No," he said simply. "But it might keep your hands from shaking."
She glared at him—but took it.
San sat at one end of the desk. Trying to keep her hands from shaking. " You shouldn't have been there".
Jenny tried to keep her voice the same. "I could say the same."
"I was supposed to be there."
Her stomach dipped. "What?"
He leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. "I got a tip that someone was planning to hit that safehouse. I went to investigate. Alone."
"Because you don't trust anyone?"
"Because I don't trust the wrong people," he said pointedly.
Jenny ignored the sting in his voice. "And what if you'd gotten yourself killed?"
He smiled darkly. "Would you have cried for me?"
"Depends who pulled the trigger."
"You're good at this, you know right?" he said while letting out a light chuckle.
"At what?"
"Pretending and lying ."
Her jaw tightened.
"You do it alot." he continued softly. "Don't you?"
Jenny's fingers become tighter around the glass. "Why did you bring me here, San?"
"I could ask you the same thing."
She looked up, startled. "What do you mean?"
He stood then, moving toward her with quiet, calculated steps. "You show up in my world like a ghost. No history, no background anyone can confirm. You say all the right things. You act harmless."
"I am."
"No," he said, voice dropping. "You're not."
Jenny swallowed hard. "Then why do you let me stay?"
San stood up and went closer to her . His voice was barely a whisper. "Because I don't know what your intentions are yet."
She couldn't breathe.
For a moment, they were still . The fire cracked behind them. Outside, thunder rolled again, closer now.
Then a sharp knock broke the silence.
"Boss," a guard called through the door. "You need to see this."
San's eyes didn't leave hers. "Come."
The guard entered, holding out a thin plastic sleeve. Inside was a photograph—grainy, clearly taken from a security cam.
Jenny's blood turned to ice.
It was her. Slipping out of the estate two nights ago.
Alone.
Heading straight into the part of town no Moretti would ever trust.
"I found it on the east wing security logs," the guard said. "Someone tampered with the footage after, but this one was buried in the backup files."
San didn't say a word. He just looked at her.
Jenny forced a calm she didn't feel. "I went for a walk."
"In the rain?" he asked.
"I needed air."
"Towards the road leading to a closed warehouse?"
"People do weird things when they can't sleep."
He looked at her for a while, dismissed the guard and then turned back to her.
"There's something else."
Jenny tensed.
"We checked the warehouse this morning," San said. "There was a tracker hidden under one of the crates. FBI-grade."
Jenny's heart dropped.
"That mean anything to you, Jenny?"
She said nothing.
San stepped closer, voice low and dangerous now. "I trust you. I let you into my house and near my people because I do. But if there's anything I need to know–"
The lights flickered.
Then cut out completely.
Everything went dark.
Jenny's breath caught. "What the hell—"
A backup generator kicked in seconds later, bathing the estate in a soft red glow. San pulled a gun from his waistband, motioning for her to stay behind him.
They moved quickly into the hall, shadows stretching long across the blood-red light.
Then—
"Boss!" another guard shouted from down the corridor.
San bolted toward the sound, Jenny right behind him.
They turned a corner—and stopped cold.
The safe in the wall, the one no one but San could open, was wide open.
Files were scattered on the floor. Most untouched. But one folder was missing.
San crouched down, examining the mess. "Only one thing was taken."
"What was it?" Jenny asked, already knowing.
He stood slowly, holding up a half-torn label from the corner of the missing file.
Two words.
Project Siren.
Jenny's stomach flipped.
She knew that name.
She was that name.
Her handler had mentioned it months ago. A high-level classified op tied to a secret FBI target—an operation hidden even from most agents. She hadn't known it was connected to San. She hadn't known the file even existed here.
And now it was gone.
San looked at her again. Something dark flickered in his eyes.
Before he could speak, his phone buzzed.
He checked the screen—and went still.
"What is it?" Jenny asked carefully.
San handed it to her.
A live security feed from outside her apartment building.
Flames.
Bright. Wild. Uncontrolled.
Tearing through the windows.
Jenny's hand flew to her mouth.
"There's more," San said. He clicked on the next video.
This one was from an alley camera.
A figure, dressed in black, walking away from the blaze.
Jenny's breath hitched. "Wait… zoom in."
He did.
The figure turned slightly—just enough for the camera to catch the edge of her profile.
It was someone Jenny hadn't seen in months.
Rose.
Her old academy roommate. A fellow undercover. But she'd gone rogue. Vanished off the grid. And now… she was here?
"Why would she burn down my apartment?" Jenny whispered.
San's voice was quiet. "Maybe to warn you."
"Warn me?"
"Or to erase something."
Jenny backed up, her mind racing.
Rose knew about Project Siren. She knew about Jenny's mission. If she was here, it wasn't by accident.
"I need to find her," Jenny said.
San's eyes locked on hers. "No. We need to find her."
"But—"
"You're in this now. All the way. Whatever 'Project Siren' is… it's tied to both of us."
Jenny met his gaze, her walls cracking. For the first time, she wasn't sure if the mission mattered anymore. Not with her cover blown. Not with Rose back. And not with San looking at her like she was mo
re than just a threat.
San's phone buzzed again.
One message. No number.
"The FBI lied to both of you. Check the names in the Siren file. One of them runs your operation, Jenny. And he's already made a deal with Moretti's enemies."