Joon placed a sun-blocker on the inside of his front windshield to keep prying eyes from seeing his form behind the wheel. A single security camera recorded all vehicles that came and went from the garage, but he’d parked his car on the street at 4:00 pm

He manually snipped the camera cable, then took up his position in the garage, knowing that it was too late in the day for a repairman to be dispatched. By the time they fixed it in the morning, his work here would be finished. 

Watching the Agent’s apartment over this last week, Joon had confirmed his assumption that Lee Min Ho was the kind of man who would work late into the night in his misguided effort to find the Bride Killer. He’d seen the agent’s car parked at CWI earlier in the afternoon, then watched for a few minutes as the agent walked to the fountain with Park Eun Hye’s sister. His heart had crashed about his chest like a hard rubber ball.

The seventh favourite had to come of her own free will, without compromise, and though he’d fretted and fussed over the detail for weeks, God had surely provided the way.

The lengths that people would go to for the sake of a loved one were disturbing to him and uplifting at once. Being created in God’s image, humans shared a seed of his unconditional, infinite love, though most had done their best to stomp that seed underfoot with greed and self-preservation. Yet when the final test came, most would go all-out to save their child or husband or wife or brother or sister.

Now Joon’s errand depended on that seed blossoming to life. He’d been sent to collect her, and she would come. 

He tapped the steering wheel with his gloved hand. His gun rested in the passenger seat, ready for when the time came. He prayed that no one else would be in the garage when it did—he had no desire to kill or even see anyone else tonight. His focus was pure and fixed. He was about God’s work and God’s work only.

It was now past eleven and the underground garage was quiet, like the inside of a casket. What if the Romeo didn’t come home tonight? He stopped tapping the leather-wrapped wheel.

Just then the lights brightened the ramp and the beautiful, smooth car came down into the darkness.

Romeo is home.

A jolt of nervous energy ripped through Joon’s bones, then was gone, replaced by relief. God was good. All the time. And his love was never-ending.

As the car drove by, turning right toward its customary spot just around the corner. As soon as its red tail-lights vanished from his view, Joon started his pickup truck, pulled out, turned it around, then followed the car back into the same spot so that the trunk faced the driveway. Lights off.

Without killing the engine, he grabbed the tranquilizer pistol, popped the trunk, and stepped out of the vehicle. A car door thumped shut around the corner. Romeo was out— Joon prayed he hadn’t made a mistake in taking the time to turn the car around, but he had wanted to face out for easy viewing while he waited, and he now needed the trunk to face out for easy access.

The garage was still quiet. He ran on his rubber soles, silent, around the corner just as the Agent was crossing the driveway toward the elevators. Twenty yards. He had to be closer—the man was trained to use his weapon and wouldn’t hesitate if he had the chance. Joon’s first shot had to put him down.

Throwing caution to the wind, he sprinted forward and closed the gap to ten yards before the Agent heard him and spun.

But the mouse was in the trap and the spring has sprung. Joon lifted the tranquilizer gun and shot the man in his chest. The two-inch, red-feathered dart made a soft slapping sound when it struck. Romeo cried out and jumped back, stunned.

His eyes widened as he, being trained in these sorts of things, recognized the instrument hanging from his chest. He grabbed the dart and tugged it out, then clawed for the weapon holstered beneath his jacket. “You sick son of…” His voice slurred and he staggered. But the powerful sedative would take up to fifteen seconds. Less if the man’s heart was pumping very hard.

Joon ducked behind a car and crouched, counting the seconds… six, seven, eight…

Thump.

He stood up and saw that Romeo had fallen in a heap, still clutching his pistol. Tucking his own behind his belt, Joon rushed forward.

The Agent was heavy. Deadweight was always heavy—he’d mounted each of the women on the wall without their help, but this… The man felt like he weighed five hundred pounds.

Joon heaved him up over his shoulder and ran back around the corner. Now his decision to turn the car around rewarded him. He shouldered the man into the trunk and, working quickly before another car drove into the garage, fastened handcuffs to the agent’s wrists. The drug would keep him down for half an hour, but he could take no chances.

Having secured his man in the trunk, Joon slid into the front seat, pulled the car out, and roared up the ramp into the dark night.

Five minutes later he was on I-25 north. No flashing lights in his rearview mirror. No helicopters overhead. No sign of pursuit at all. With any luck, no one would even know their star was missing until the morning, when he failed to show up for work.

One of the distinct disadvantages that came with a career in God’s service, like his own career, was all the bad press. No one cut the clergy enough slack; they got far too much negative attention.

But there were some distinct advantages as well. Having God on your side, for instance, the smoothness of Romeo’s abduction being a case in point. It was enough to reaffirm Joon’s calling, not that he had any doubts.

Still, having Romeo in the trunk gave him a very good feeling.

He turned right onto the motoroway. From here the Goyanggu border waited, 171 miles dis