The barn was nicely lit by the moon, and from Joon’s exterior perspective fifty yards from the southwest corner, he had a perfect view of three-quarters of the building rising like a tomb against the starry sky. He sat with his legs crossed in a yoga position, palms up, thumb and forefinger circular to help him concentrate.

He blended into the wheat field that rose behind him just above his head. Romeo’s flight into the field had taken them to the northwest; assuming he returned, he would probably come from the same direction. Even if he changed his angle of approach considerably, Joon would see him coming.

If Romeo did not return, Joon would clean up and leave in the next hour, long before the sun rose. And he would return later to finish what he’d started. He was a patient man. He’d waited seven years already; another few months would not be a problem.

All was in order. He would not disappoint those peering eyes from the night again. Particularly not now that he finally understood his true purpose.

The only thing slightly off was the sound. The buzzing in his brain had become a grinding. It was so loud now that he could hardly distinguish it from the crickets. Not that his hearing mattered at this point. He would rely on his eyesight and superior intelligence, having set hearing and emotion aside for the moment.

His mind was bright enough to illuminate the world.

His hatred, on the other hand, was so dark that he had begun to relish the thought of killing Shin Hye for the smell and taste of the blood alone.

Romeo would try to burn the barn down with him and his truck in it. And for that he would need only a well-thrown stick or rock.

This was why Joon waited where he did, safely on the outside, ready to move when the time came. Leaving the truck parked in the barn presented a risk, but he couldn’t remove it without tipping his hand. Either way, sitting in the yoga position against the wheat field put him in the perfect position.

The cornfield on the opposite side of the clearing suddenly parted and Romeo darted out, crouched low, offering a low profile to any bullet.

Joon was on his feet already. He is here.

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Min ho came to a gliding halt against the corner of the barn and pressed his back against the boards, breathing through his nose. He’d stuffed five rocks into his pockets from the ditch, two in his right, three in his left, but he would use them only if he couldn’t find something large with which to smash the lamps.

Once broken, the kerosene would spray over the hay-strewn ground and the bales nearby, and in a matter of two or three seconds a blaze too large to contain would be raging.

Next would be the truck. He’d considered a dozen possible scenarios that might allow him to disable the vehicle, but they all required him to gain an advantage once the chaos ensued. It would take surprisingly few hay bales to stop the truck long enough to smash a second lamp over its hood or bludgeon its radiator with Joon’s small sledgehammer.

He didn’t necessarily need to kill the man here. A burning barn would make a signal fire visible for miles, and the road out of this place took a considerable amount of time to navigate.

They were all long odds, but allowing a sociopathic monster of Lee Joon’s intelligence to escape offered even longer odds for Shin Hye’s survival.

The night was quiet. He eased to his right and peered through a half-inch crack. The truck’s green paint looked dark by the flame’s light. Both lamps sat on wooden barrels on either side of the makeshift wall, untouched. Hay bales rested everywhere. But his view of the table was blocked by the bales.

No sign of the man. He had to determine the killer’s location, track him, wait for the right opportunity, create his distraction at the back, then run around to the front and enter the barn with the truck between him and Joon, who would have been drawn to the rear by the distraction.

Then and only then would he go after the nearest lamp, and then the truck.

But there was no sign of Joon. From this angle he could only see part of the barn, the bed of the truck, the blankets, but little else. The man could be anywhere.

Thinking about it now, Min ho feared something would go terribly wrong. Lee Joon wasn’t the kind of man who made many mistakes, and having made one or two that allowed him and Shin hye to escape, he would be prepared.

Breathing deep to calm himself, Min ho slipped along the wall, keeping low. He had to get to the far side to get a clear view of the table. As soon as he could track the man, a simple bang on the wall would draw his attention while Min ho hurried around to the main entrance.

The details drummed through his mind, rehearsing the unknown, ears tingling with tension.

The rear door was cracked open. He stopped and considered this. But it made sense—Joon would have searched at least the perimeter before retreating, perhaps through this door. That was fifteen or twenty minutes ago. So what had he been doing since? Why all so quiet?

Min ho moved forward on the balls of his feet. He had to make visual contact. He had to locate the man first.

A three-inch gap separated the door from the old rotting frame, filled now with orange light, like a monster’s eye just barely open while it slept. Min ho reached it, thought about looking inside, but decided that the door’s slightest movement might betray him.

Just beyond the door, there was a gap between two boards, he would…

The blow on the back of his head came out of nowhere, like a giant cobra strike on his skull. Pain raged down his spine. He knew then, as he collapsed to the ground, why he hadn’t seen Joon on the inside of the barn.

The killer was out here with him.

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It was fascinating and immensely satisfying, and now Joon knew why his subconscious had allowed him to make the small mistakes that had allowed Romeo his short-lived freedom. Having faced defeat and overcome it by recapturing the man, he was now able to relish the man’s demise wit