We were back at our hideout sooner than expected. Much too soon.
The hidden floor felt smaller tonight, the walls pressing in. The hum of the flickering lights seemed louder, and even the air felt trapped—stale and heavy, like it was waiting for something to happen.
Junseo and I sat on opposite ends of the room. The space between us was filled with thoughts neither of us wanted to be the first to speak aloud.
Junseo broke first. He usually did.
"That bastard," he muttered, dragging a hand through his messy hair. "Who does he think he is, giving us a forty-eight-hour deadline like we're his employees?"
He looked at me, his frustration sharp but unfocused. He wasn't really angry; he was confused. And for a guy like Junseo, who lived by his instincts, confusion was scarier than any knife.
"It's not like this happens every day," he went on, forcing a laugh that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Professional hitmen don't just… show up at our favorite bar. People don't find us that easily."
He sighed, his voice dropping an octave.
"What do you think, hyung? Really?"
I leaned back into the worn sofa, staring up at the cracked ceiling. The taste of the expensive Chivas still lingered on my tongue—smooth and smoky. It felt out of place, a luxury that didn't belong to the knot tightening in my chest.
"I don't know," I said. For once, I wasn't trying to act cool. I truly didn't know. "Maybe we wait. Maybe we watch the street and see if his shadows are still there."
Junseo frowned, tapping his foot nervously.
"We still have forty-eight hours until he expects an answer."
"Exactly. Time is the only thing we have right now."
Silence crept back into the room.
My thoughts drifted back to Borislav's eyes—the way they stayed wide, unblinking, and locked onto mine. He had looked at me as if the decision had already been made, as if my hesitation was just a polite formality before I eventually said yes.
"We'll meet him," I said suddenly.
Junseo turned toward me so fast I heard his neck crack. "What? Are you serious?"
"We'll listen," I clarified, my voice steady.
"That's all. We go, we hear the offer, and we see what kind of game he's playing."
He stood up, disbelief written all over his face. "Hyung, did you not feel the vibe in that bar? Something about them—about him—was completely wrong. My skin is still crawling. I don't have a good feeling about this."
"I don't either," I admitted.
That stopped him mid-sentence. He stared at me, waiting for the 'but.'
I sat forward, resting my elbows on my knees and looking him dead in the eye. "But we don't get followed by a small army for no reason. Men like Borislav Volkov don't wait forty-eight hours unless they're certain we're worth the trouble. He knows something we don't."
Junseo clenched his jaw, his hands balled into fists. "And what if we aren't worth the trouble? What if we're just targets?"
I looked down at the floor, at the shadows dancing under the couch. "Then we'll find out why before he pulls the trigger."
The room fell quiet again.
Outside, the city moved on as if nothing had changed. Cars honked, people yelled, and the world kept spinning. But inside these reinforced walls, a line had been crossed.
The 'twin Brothers' had been seen, and neither of us could pretend we hadn't felt the cold breath of something dangerous on our necks.
We weren't the hunters anymore. The game had changed.