"Agent 030, level three. Agent 001, level two."
The room fell silent.
Holographic light flickered to life in the center of the briefing chamber, projecting the image of a man dressed in black—sharp jaw, calm eyes, an aura that seemed to bleed danger even through pixels.
"You'll both be taking him down completely."
Mr. Alexander's finger hovered, then tapped the image.
"He's also a spy working for the Deluxe Agency. One of their most powerful agents. Number one in this business."
She felt Caleb stiffen beside her.
"I could have sent another team to delete him," Alexander continued coolly, "but I chose the two of you because I see potential. If you successfully remove him from the picture, you'll receive a raise in rank… and a token of two hundred million in cash."
Two hundred million.
Her chest tightened.
"It's up to you whether you accept or decline—"
"Accept, sir."
The word left her mouth before her thoughts could catch up.
Alexander paused, one eyebrow lifting slightly. "Straight to the point."
This was it. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. She wasn't letting it slip away—not when that amount of money could change everything.
"Very well," he said. "I'll send the remaining information to your watches."
He gestured to the sleek digital devices wrapped around their wrists—standard issue for communication, tracking, and mission updates.
As the hologram dissolved, Caleb turned to her, frowning.
"Are you sure this deal is legit?" he muttered. "It feels off. And no offense, pipsqueak, but I don't think you're ready for a mission like this."
She clenched her jaw.
"I don't have a choice," she said quietly. "This is enough for Xavier's surgery. Enough for us to start a life."
Caleb exhaled slowly, then gave a crooked grin. "Well, if you say so… I don't think I have the authority to decline anyway."
She rolled her eyes.
"So," he added, voice dropping, "see you at my place at eight. We'll prep your disguise."
He winked, already turning away. "Try not to panic before then."
_______________________________________
The palace gates opened with ceremonial slowness, iron and gold parting as if the city itself were holding its breath.
Inside, the ballroom glowed.
Crystal chandeliers spilled light over marble floors, silk gowns, and polished suits. Laughter chimed too loudly. Music flowed too smoothly. Everything about the queen's anniversary ball screamed luxury—and lies.
She stepped inside on Caleb's arm.
Emerald fabric hugged her frame, the dress doing exactly what it was meant to do: distract, disarm, deceive. A thin wire curved behind her ear, invisible beneath her hair.
"Try not to look like you're casing the place," Caleb murmured through his smile. "You're supposed to be madly in love with me."
"I'd rather get shot," she replied under her breath.
"Harsh," he said lightly. "Smile, pipsqueak."
They moved with the crowd, blending in as servers passed champagne and nobles clustered in glittering groups. Her eyes never stopped moving—counting exits, noting guard placements, watching reflections in mirrored pillars.
Her watch vibrated once.
ACCESS CONFIRMED.
IDENTITIES: MR. & MRS. VON HEIST.
Caleb's voice slipped into her ear. "I'm in. Palace systems are a joke—overconfident people always have weak firewalls."
"Do you see him?" she asked quietly.
"Negative. I'll check internal feeds. You stay visible."
She hated that part.
They reached the center of the ballroom, where dancers spun beneath the chandeliers. Caleb slowed, then leaned in, brushing his lips near her ear for show.
"I'll sweep the gents," he whispered. "If he's anywhere, he'll avoid crowds."
She nodded once.
"Don't wander," he added. "And don't pick fights with royalty."
"I make no promises."
Caleb slipped away, disappearing into the sea of black suits.
The moment he was gone, the ballroom felt bigger. Louder. Too open.
She drifted toward a pillar, pretending to admire the architecture while listening to the steady murmur in her earpiece—data streams, guard chatter, nothing useful.
Then—
"Careful."
She turned just in time to avoid colliding with someone tall and impeccably dressed.
Gold embroidery caught the light. A lazy, charming smile curved his lips.
The princess.
"Well," he said, eyes sweeping over her with open interest, "you weren't on the guest list I memorized."
Her pulse spiked. She forced a polite laugh, masking the instinct to retreat.
"I'm flattered."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You should be. I don't flirt with just anyone."
Before she could respond, a guard approached and bowed. "Your Highness. They're ready for you."
The princess sighed, clearly annoyed, then leaned closer—too close. "Another time, then."
She watched him go, tension finally loosening from her shoulders.
"Trouble?" Caleb asked in her ear.
"Royalty," she murmured. "False alarm."
"Lucky you."
Her chest felt tight. Too many eyes. Too much noise.
"I'm stepping outside," she said. "Just for a minute."
"Copy that. I still don't see him—"
She was already moving.
The balcony doors slid open, and cool night air washed over her skin. The city stretched endlessly below, neon veins pulsing through darkness.
She took one breath.
Then another.
"You always choose the quiet corners."
Her body locked.
She turned slowly.
He stood in the shadows like he'd grown there—hands in his pockets, posture loose, expression unreadable. Black suit. Dark eyes. A presence so heavy it pressed against her chest.
Jin Woo Sylus.
Her hand flew to her gun.
Too late.
His foot snapped out, kicking it clean across the stone floor.
It clattered uselessly against the railing.
He clicked his tongue. "That was disappointing."
She lunged.
The fight was brutal and fast—no room for elegance now. She struck hard, desperate, every move fueled by adrenaline and fear. Sylus blocked, redirected, countered with effortless precision.
"Your stance is off," he said calmly, dodging her elbow. "Did they rush your training?"
She snarled and went low.
He caught her wrist, twisted, slammed her back into the wall.
Pain burst behind her eyes.
Her vision swam.
She barely registered the gun in his hand until the barrel pressed against her forehead.
"End of the line," Sylus said softly.
A body slammed into him from the side.
The gun flew.
Caleb.
They crashed to the ground, fists colliding, both moving on instinct now. No guns. No restraint.
"Move!" Caleb barked into the mic.
She tried.
Her legs gave out.
Then—
"Well," a smooth voice cut in, almost amused, "this escalated quickly."
Prince Rafayel stepped onto the balcony, coat fluttering, eyes alight with something dangerously close to excitement.
"They're coming," he added casually. "And not the polite kind."
Gunfire erupted behind him.
Shouts. Explosions. Chaos spilling through the doors.
Sylus swore, turned, and grabbed her without hesitation, slinging her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.
"Hey—!" Caleb shouted.
"Catch up, boy toy ," Sylus called back mockingly.
He didn't stop.
Didn't slow.
He ran—and jumped.
The city roared up to meet them as the balcony vanished behind.
---
The fall never came.
Instead, everything lurched sideways.
Wind tore past her face as Sylus twisted midair, the city lights blurring into streaks below. A sharp impact followed—metal groaning, suspension screaming—and suddenly she was slammed into leather.
A car.
Hidden beneath the balcony like a waiting predator.
Sylus dumped her into the passenger seat, vaulted over the hood, and slid behind the wheel in one fluid motion. The engine roared to life before the door had even shut.
Gunfire rained down from above.
Sylus floored it.
The car tore through the narrow forest road, tires screaming as trees swallowed the palace lights behind them. Her head lolled uselessly against the window, vision flickering.
"Stay awake," Sylus muttered, eyes locked on the road. "I hate it when people die in my car."
She tried to respond. Nothing came out.
A shadow dropped from above.
The roof dented violently.
Sylus sighed. "Of course."
Prince Rafayel clung to the roof like something feral, coat snapping in the wind, grinning as if this were the most fun he'd had all night. He crawled forward, rapped his knuckles twice on the windshield, then slid down and dropped neatly into the back seat through the open sunroof.
"Miss me?" Rafayel chirped.
Sylus didn't even glance back. "You're paying for the roof."
Rafayel laughed, bracing himself as the car took a brutal turn. "Relax. You were going to replace it anyway. So—who are the guests?"
Sylus flicked his eyes to the side mirror just as another car burst from the treeline behind them.
A familiar one.
"Tch," he clicked his tongue. "Your boy toy followed us."
Rafayel leaned forward, peering past her slumped form. "Oh? Loyal. I like him already."
Sylus smirked and jerked the wheel, veering sharply into a dirt path barely visible between the trees. Branches scraped the sides of the car as they sped deeper into the woods.
They burst into a clearing.
An abandoned warehouse loomed ahead—rusted, dark, seemingly forgotten.
Sylus slowed just enough to slip inside.
The interior exploded with movement.
Gunfire. Shouts. Figures emerging from the shadows.
Rafayel swore. "Well. This place is compromised."
Sylus didn't argue.
He slammed the accelerator, spun the car in a tight arc, and blasted straight back out the way they came.
"Plan B?" Rafayel asked, gripping the seat as they flew down another hidden road.
Sylus's lips curved. "Always."
The forest thickened. The road disappeared entirely.
Then the ground itself opened.
Massive steel doors slid apart beneath layers of camouflage, revealing a descending tunnel carved straight into the mountain. The car plunged downward as the doors sealed behind them.
Lights flickered on in sequence, illuminating reinforced walls, armed checkpoints, and scanners that swept the vehicle from every angle.
Deep. Hidden. Untouchable.
Sylus's headquarters.
The car finally slowed, gliding into an underground bay carved into stone. The engine cut off.
Silence fell heavy.
Sylus was out of the car instantly, hauling her into his arms with surprising care. Rafayel hopped out behind him, dusting off his coat like he hadn't just surfed a speeding car.
"She alive?" Rafayel asked.
"For now," Sylus replied. "Unfortunately."
As Sylus turned, a quiet click echoed behind them.
A gun cocking.
"Well," Caleb's voice rang out, breathless but steady, "this was not part of the plan."
Sylus stopped.
Slowly, he turned his head, eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Well I'll be damned," he drawled. "The boy toy really did keep up."
Caleb stepped fully into the light, weapon trained, jaw tight. "Put her down."
Sylus smirked.
And that smirk promised nothing good.
---
The underground bay was silent for a heartbeat too long.
Sylus set her down gently, her head still spinning, chest heaving. Rafayel leaned casually against the reinforced wall, arms crossed, smirking.
Caleb's eyes narrowed. "Step away from her."
Sylus turned slowly, dark eyes glinting. "Step away… or what, boy toy?" His tone was mock-serious, but every syllable dripped danger.
Caleb's hand twitched toward his weapon.
Sylus sighed, like a man disappointed by weak muscles. "Really. You couldn't let me have one moment of peace?"
Rafayel chuckled behind them, strolling closer with predatory grace. "Oh, I like him already. Little jealous, aren't we?" He winked at Sylus, voice soft, teasing. "You do like a challenge, don't you?"
Sylus ignored the jab. He stepped closer to Caleb, deliberately slow, letting tension coil in the air. "I'll make this easy, or… fun. Your choice."
Caleb didn't answer. He lunged.
The fight exploded.
Fists collided with bone-cracking impact. Sylus moved like liquid, dodging a swing, twisting Caleb's wrist, and flipping him to the floor with a sarcastic chuckle. "Really, that's all you've got? I expected more."
Rafayel clapped lightly, strolling around them. "Bravo! Encore, please. Oh… wait, don't hit too hard, I like him alive."
Caleb rolled, kicked, tried to grab Sylus, but every move was countered. Sylus smirked, ducked under a punch, and tapped Caleb lightly on the temple with the back of his hand. Caleb staggered, eyes widening.
"Cute," Sylus murmured. "I almost feel bad."
Rafayel laughed, leaning on the wall. "Almost? That's better than nothing."
Caleb charged again, teeth gritted, but Sylus sidestepped, twisted his arm behind his back, and slammed him against the concrete wall. The impact echoed like a gunshot.
"Stop struggling," Sylus said, voice low and dangerous. "You're making me angry."
Caleb tried one last desperate move—swing, tackle, grab him —but Sylus caught his arm mid-air, spun him like a ragdoll, and finally delivered a precise uppercut to Caleb's jaw.
Caleb collapsed to the floor, unconscious before he could hit the ground fully.
Rafayel whistled, circling the prone figure. "Ouch. He'll remember that… maybe. But that was hot."
Sylus ignored him. He crouched near her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His lips curved in that infuriating half-smile. "See? Easy."
She blinked at him, chest heaving. "You… you could've killed him."
"Tempting," he said smoothly, voice like velvet wrapped in steel. "But… why ruin a good show?"
Rafayel leaned closer, dropping his voice into a flirtatious drawl. "I do love watching him work. Especially when he looks like that."
Sylus's dark eyes flicked to Rafayel. "Keep your hands to yourself, spider boy. Or I'll invent a new way to kill you."
Rafayel just laughed. "Oh, I like a man with confidence."
She tried to move closer to Sylus, wincing as her legs trembled. He caught her by the waist, steadying her.
"Don't think this makes me soft," he said, voice low, teasing, dangerous. "I still expect you to survive the next round."
Behind them, the warehouse's shadows twisted. Guns, grenades, and the distant echo of alarms reminded her the night was far from over.
Sylus glanced toward the exit, voice sarcastic as ever. "And somehow… your little friend followed us all the way here. I'm impressed, boy toy. Really, truly."
She shivered—but not from fear. From adrenaline, from the chaotic pull of the dangerous, sarcastic man holding her in his arms.
And then again she fell into a silent dark world of nothingness.