Dara's POV

He spares me only the briefest of glances. "What's going on?"

The creep turns, mouth set in a distinctly pissy line. Water keeps pouring out of the faucet into a bucket, presumably, and he's holding a piece of ripped towel. "G dragon."

 "Vi," says Jiyong.

"Since we had to pick her up, they wanted a threat assessment." The woman continues to lean casually against the wall.

"It's sanctioned," snarls the man. Vi.

"And you decided that meant tying her up and torturing her?" asks Jiyong. "I don't think so."

The woman sighs. "For the record, I told him it wasn't a good idea."

"You were right."

"Hey, now. The man lifts his hands in a pacitying way. "I wasn't actually going to do it. I was just messing with her head. You know how it works, you've got to-"

It all happens so quickly. The work of a moment, no more. Jiyong's hand lunges for Vi's throat, crushing his windpipe. The man doubles over, choking.

Unhurried, Jiyong draws a gun from his belt. One smooth, graceful arc, and the gun's strikes the side of the man's head. He drops to the floor.

"I've been wanting to do that for years," the woman says. "He always liked hurting women a little too much for my tastes. Such a rubbish human."

It's the last straw for me. I'm not used to all the threats and fear and violence. In movies maybe, but not actual real-world stuff. Acid climbs my throat and I lean to the side to throw up. Vomit splashes the side of my leg. I'm too freaked out to feel the usual disgust. Instead, I feel frail and hollow. Like I might cave in on myself at any moment.

"Minzy, get him out of here," orders Jiyong in a calm voice.

"'s sake. I hate carrying dead weight." The woman, Minzy, pulls out a cell, thumbs moving across the screen, sending someone a message instead of following orders. Perhaps she's checking her social media first. I don't know. Nothing about this makes sense.

Jiyong strides toward me, his face hard, eyes cold. I've never been afraid of him, but I am now. He produces a knife out of nowhere and squats down to cut the ties on my wrists. Then he grabs my chin, inspecting me.

I push him away, wipe my mouth clean with the back of a hand. My world has suddenly turned upside down. Jiyong the kickass fighter and me almost blown-up and waterboarded. What the hell?

Jiyong.. I breathe.

His dark hair is this cool artful mess instead of following its usual dull, neat lines. And there's a focus to him, a determination. No, a confidence. That's the difference between this man and my former fiancé. He stands tall and strong. Ready to conquer nations, to take on anything and win.

Holy . Who is this guy?

Because this isn't my Jiyong. It can't be.

"Your eyes are brown," I say.

"I wear contacts around you."

"No. You're his evil twin or something." This makes total sense. Sort of.

"That's it."

"Don't be silly," he replies shortly. "It's me, Dara. Your fancé"

"I know Jiyong. He's nothing like you. He would never."

He pauses, then sighs. "You've seen my scars. You know them."

"I know Jiyong's scars, but.."

Without a word, he pulls his T-shirt up and over his head. Jiyong's always been fit, but in the shadowy light, with the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans now exposed, the rippled body before me looks hard and dangerous. However, the scars are indeed there. Every one of them. One on the shoulder. A slash on his upper right arm. Four across his stomach, like a little constellation.

I shake my head. "Thom would never take his shirt off in public. He's too self-conscious. We didn't even have with the light on."

"Self-conscious about the damage from the car accident, right?"

"Yeah, and the scars from playing sports and a surgery when he was younger."

"I don't care about them." He sighs. "It was just too much of a risk that someone might recognize gunshot, knife, and shrapnel wounds if they saw them."

Huh. "Jiyong?"

"Hi, babe." He gives me a sad, sort of contrite smile. For the first time, he looks exactly like my Jiyong.

"What the hell is going on?"

He says nothing. But his gaze moves over me, taking in my battered face, my bruised body. It stops, however, at my hands. "Dara, where's your ring?"

"-I took it off. I was leaving you."

For the first time, this scary alternate version of Jiyong seems almost surprised. A little shocked even. "You left me? Why would you..." Then he looks over his shoulder at Minzy, who is carrying Vi away, holding him over one shoulder, fireman style. She's obviously stronger than she looks.

Jiyong leans in close, his voice harsh and lovw. "Tell no one. Do you understand?"

"What? But why?"

"No one. Your life depends on it"

Returning without Vi, Minzy wanders over. "All organized."

"Good," answers Jiyong.

"Of course, this is all your own bloody fault," says Minzy. "You're the one who wanted a white picket fence and suburban family for a cover. Yawn."

Jiyong draws me to my feet and I sway like I'm caught in a storm. He slides a strong arm around my waist, drawing me against his body. I don't want to touch him, this stranger who uses violence so easily. But my options for staying upright and getting out of here are limited.

"The internal leak is being investigated," says Minzy. "We should have something for you soon."

Jiyong just nods.

"What do I say to Vi when he regains consciousness?" asks Minzy.

"Tell him if he ever touches my fiancée again, I won't be so diplomatic next time"

Minzy snorts. "Whatever. Cheerio, Dara. No hard feelings, yeah?"

Jiyong hustles me out of there as fast as he can.

--

"I know you' ve got questions."

What an understatement. We're upstairs in one of the many bedrooms inside the sprawling old ranch house. It's somewhere in the wilds of one of the canyons, at a guess. No neighbors are in sight. Apart from Minzy, the unconscious Vi, and a man working at a serious array of computers in the great room, the place seems empty. There's basic furniture only. No pictures or keepsakes. Nothing to indicate it's a home. And it's all so surreal. I want to keep pinching myself, but I hurt enough already. Which reminds me: "Was anyone else harmed in the explosion?"

"No."

"It was meant to kill?"

"As best we can figure, the bomb malfunctioned. Went off early."

"Someone actually tried to blow us up. I wonder..I went into your office looking for tape. I don't usually go in there"

His nostrils flare. "That could have been it."

"So there's a leak in your organization and someone wants to kill you," I say, voice shaking. "or you and me both?"

"You were paying attention back there."

"Im not as stupid as you think I am." I almost laugh. Or cry. One or the other. "At least, I hope I'm not."

"Babe-"

"Do not babe me."

He takes a deep breath, pushing a hand through his hair. The past few months, he's been so busy it's longer than normal. Way overdue for a cut. "I never thought you were stupid, Dara."

"No. Just desperate."

He says nothing. Confirmation enough. Not that I needed it.

"Well?" I ask.

"Until we can identify who's passing off information, we won't know if the target is just me. It would, however, make the most sense."

"Unless they wanted to kill me to hurt you. Though it wouldn't hurt you, would it?"

His lips thin ever so slightly. "Given I cold-cocked the last person who harmed you, I think we can assume I care at least a little."

"A little. That's big of you." I sit on the side of the king-size bed, trying to ease the nerves, tiredness, and pain. What I wouldn't give for Tylenol or something stronger. A bottle of medicinal vodka, maybe. "What happens now?"

"Now we wait to see what the searches Daesung doing on the computers dig up. We're safe here for the moment."

"Daesung." I snort. "Is there an Otter?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"You and your friends are a regular ing zoo."

The following silence is thick and heavy. Not comfortable at all. And to think I'd planned to spend my life with this man. This stranger.

"She referred to me and our life together as your cover. Does that make you a spy or a government agent or what?"

"Something like that."

"Oh my God, are you a traitor?"

"No, Dara. The ones I work for..they're an international group dedicated to keeping things as uned as possible. That's really all I can say."

"And these people, you kill for them?"

There's the slightest of pauses before he answers. "When it's necessary. There are some dangerous people out there. But other times I just gather information. Each job is different."

They usually involve you pretending to be someone you're not, though, right? Lying to people?

"Yes."

"Hmm. You're very good at it." I watch him carefully. "So are you doing this for the good of humankind or for the money?"

"Can't it be both?" he asks all smooth-like. New Jiyong is slippery.

"What did you mean, my life depended on not saying anything about leaving you?"

"You know too much now. The only thing keeping you alive is that they, the people in charge, think you're loyal to me and that I'm committed to you. If those beliefs change, then they will review their risk-reward calculation about keeping you alive."

"All I know is that you name yourselves after animals and answer too some mysterious organization referred to as "they."

"That's enough."

"It's ridiculous they'd want me dead just for knowing that." I want to beat him with my fists. Scream and howl in rage. Maybe later when I've got  the energy. "Is Lee Jiyong even your real name?"

"Jiyong is my name."

"But Lee's not your surname."

"No." He pauses. "Why did you want to leave?"

"Does it matter why I attempted to dump you, since we're apparently now stuck with each other?"

"I thought you were happy." The weird thing is, he sounds almost hurt. Which is crazy. "I know I've been busy lately, but-"

"You do remember this is a fake relationship you're talking about," I say between clenched teeth. "A lie that you manipulated and tricked me into believing."

For a moment, we just stare at each other. Neither of us is happy.

"Given how badly I held up under pressure, I can almost forgive you for not telling me the whole truth. But I really don't think I can ever forgive you for starting this relationship in the first place."

"Everyone breaks under torture; it's just a matter of when." He doesn't address the second issue. Doesn't even go near it.

"Great."

"You're exhausted; you should sleep." He nods to a door on the other side of the large bedroom. "Bathroom is through there if you want to clean up. I'l check on you later."

"Okay."

"I'l be right outside. You're safe, Dara:"

I don't know what to say. This new Jiyong doesn't feel safe at all.

And then he's gone.

I have no idea where we are or how far from civilization we might be. And I have neither money nor shoes. My chances of making a successful getaway are slim to none. For now, there's no other real option but to stay put and figure out this situation. My supposed fiancé seems to want to keep me alive and in one piece. It's something, I guess.

The woman in the bathroom mirror is pale and pasty, battered and bruised. I turn on the shower, testing the temperature with a hand. Red marks line my wrists, further reminder of the crazy and violent day. My clothes stink of smoke and vomit, but there's soap and shampoo, towels and a fluffy white robe. It'll have to do. I need to put myself back together and deal.

Only the first tear leaves a trail in the soot and general mess of my face. A second tear follows fast. Soon my vision wavers and I step into the shower, hiding the sound of my crying with the running water. It'd be great to be able to handle this, to stay strong. But first I apparently need a minute to let it all out. All of the anger, stress, and horror of the past few hours. All of my fear.

Because I'm trapped. That's what it comes down to in the end.

-- 

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