“Did you like my gift?” Chanyeol asks me in Training, a sly smile on his face. I clench my fists.

    “Shut up and tell me what I need to do.”

    “Alright. There’s a document called Systems Information Planning from 2010 that I need. Give that to me.”

    “I’ll do it by tonight. What information do you have?”

    “All I’ve been able to gather about it so far is that it’s combining the technology, manufacturing, and science departments, and it’s been going on for at least 5 years. Most importantly, I think that all operations related to the project take place on Floor 38.”

    “Have you been to Floor 38?”

    “Yeah, once. Once you step off the elevator, you’re ambushed by security guards and have to be searched, go through metal detectors, make sure you have no cameras on you, blah blah. I had to lie that I pressed the wrong button on the elevator. They were about to kill me, I swear.”

    “Hm...,” I frown. “Maybe we could-,”

    “Attention!” Harris roars, clapping his hands. “Welcome to Week 2 of Training. This week will be dedicated to one-on-one combat. Get into pairs and use the skills you used last week to take down your opponent.”

    “You’d better go easy on me,” I tell Chanyeol warily. “If you pull some superspy knockout crap on me-,”

    He snorts. “Relax. I’m obviously not going to show off my fantastic fighting skills here. We can take turns getting beaten up.”

    “Great.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jungkook instructing a team on the other side of the room. We have been determinedly avoiding each other the entire night. Resentment boils in the pit of my stomach. If he wants to go hook up with Emma, fine! It’s not my problem if he gets herpes.

    “Scared of your boyfriend now that you know how ed up he is?” Chanyeol smirks. I sock him in the gut and he topples to the floor.

    “I’m not scared of him,” I growl.

    “Jesus, calm down,” he groans, rubbing his stomach. “I’m joking.”

    “Whatever.”

    “You’re pissed because he still refused to confess anything to you, right?”

    “Terrific intuition, Sherlock!” I exclaim in a fake-chipper voice. “Instead of telling me the truth, he chose to stick his tongue in another girl’s mouth. Now shut up, or I’m going to punch you again.”

    Chanyeol’s eyes soften. “Alright, you can beat me up.”

“With pleasure.” I kick him in the side and he staggers to the floor.

    “Oh, no, Ami beat up the Super Spy,” he dramatically moans, rolling around on the floor. “How will I ever get over this?”

    “I’m just too good,” I laugh, pretending to kick him repeatedly. “Mwahaha!”

    “Oh, yeah?” Chanyeol grabs my foot and yanks it forward, flooring me. I land on top of him, sputtering in outrage.

    “Hey! That’s not fair!” I protest. “It was my turn!”

    “A gang member never plays fair,” he chuckles. “Ooh, look at me, I’m part of the 4 Flames and I’m a thug. I’m tougher than all you pathetic pansies. I’ll punch my own grandma in the face because I can!”

    “Stop!” I giggle. “You’re so stupid-,”

    “What are you two doing?” a terse voice asks. Chanyeol and I look up. Jungkook is hovering above us, a frosty expression on his face.

    “Nothing, Master Jungkook Jeon!” Chanyeol squeaks, his mask of nervous talkativeness flawlessly slipping back into place. “We’re practicing our sparring! And then Ami totally just punched me and took me down but I didn’t want to go down like that so I grabbed her foot and I brought her down too! So both of us win in this-,”

    “Shut up.” Jungkook folds his arms. “Both of you stand up. You two need some real practice. Chanyeol, you’re first.”     

Chanyeol throws me a nervous glance. “Uh, okay. Do I get to warm up first, maybe do some leg raises-,”

In a flash, Jungkook has hit Chanyeol in the side with a spin kick. Chanyeol goes flying to the ground, but immediately stands back up, his fists in the air. He lunges at Jungkook, an arm raised, but Jungkook is too fast for him; he ducks and slams his elbow into Chanyeol’s stomach. Chanyeol topples to the floor, clutching his body in pain. Jungkook doesn’t give him a moment to recover, though- instead, he kicks Chanyeol over so he rolls over on his front, and wraps him in a headlock from behind.

Horror is seeping through my body. Jungkook is viciously attacking him, and Chanyeol can’t even defend himself, lest he gives his true abilities away. This is unfair and ridiculous.  

Jungkook hoists Chanyeol on his back and flips him over so quickly that I can barely see him move. Chanyeol lands on the floor with a loud thud! Bruises are blossoming on his face. Blood is trickling down from a cut on his lip. But Jungkook still doesn’t stop. He punches Chanyeol in the face, and he doubles over in pain.

A pang of fury hits me.

I can’t stand by and watch this.

When Jungkook raises his arm once again, I dart out in front of Chanyeol.

“Don’t,” Chanyeol croaks, but it is too late.

Jungkook’s fist slams into my stomach.

Stars erupt in my vision. I slide to the floor, clutching my stomach. A terrible pain shoots through me. Get up, I command myself, but I can’t bring myself to move.

I can faintly make out someone shouting. Someone grabs my hands. I blink. Jungkook.  

“Ami,” he murmurs.

I shove him off of me. “Leave Chanyeol alone,” I rasp, staggering up with difficulty. “I need ‘real practice’, right? It’s my turn.”

Jungkook stares at me, an unreadable expression on his eyes. I look back at him, my face blank. We circle each other for a good minute, simply taking each other in.

“Tell me why,” he suddenly utters. Both of us know exactly what he's talking about. Despite my will, a pang of regret hits my chest, but I quickly push it away.

“No,” I respond bluntly. “You never tell me anything, no matter how many times I ask.”

    Jungkook grits his teeth in frustration. “Seriously? That’s it?”

    I stride over to him and aim a punch at his face. He grabs my arm and twists it behind my back; I hook my leg behind his ankle and try to trip him with the same move that he used on me, but all I succeed in doing is further locking my body in his grip. My body is pressed so close to Jungkook’s that I can feel his muscular torso beneath me.

    “Let me go,” I murmur, but he wraps his other arm around my waist, holding me tight. An involuntary shudder runs through my body.

“You know why I never told you anything?” he hisses in my ear. “Because I knew you would react like this. You found out about my true nature, didn't you?”

    I pause. “Yes.”

    “And now you’re scared,” he whispers in my ear. Goosebumps run up and down my arms. “You don’t want to be around me. You’re terrified that I’m going to kill you. ”

    I swallow hard. Jungkook’s words are correct, but despite everything, my body feels hot, wracked with some strange emotion. He stares at me with blazing eyes, a hard expression. For a moment, I am sure that he is going to close the miniscule gap between our faces, smash his lips over mine. The tension in the air is palpable; I can almost taste it.

    And then it ends right as soon as it begins. Jungkook pushes me away from him, and I stumble backwards. I stand there, woozy and numb.

    “Both of your fighting skills are pathetic,” Jungkook scoffs at me and Chanyeol. “Keep working.”

    He strides away, leaving me standing there dazedly.

    Chanyeol whistles. “Wow. You two could be a special on MTV.”

    “Shut up,” I snap, finally jarring out of my trance.

    “I mean it. Teenagers and their hormones and their poor little confused feelings....,”

    “Like you’re much older,” I retort. “What are you, 22? 23?”

    “20.” he sneers. “Do I really look that old?”

I narrow my eyes. “You were a teenager literally a year ago. So be quiet. Now let’s get back to business.” I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “I can try accessing the cameras on Floor 38.”

    “Fine. If that doesn’t work, we’ll think of something else.”

    “Got it.” I catch Jungkook’s eye across the room, and we share a tense glare. Chanyeol notices this and smirks.

    “Like I said. MTV.”

    Every floor of the Yohan building has working surveillance cameras.

    Except for Floor 38.

    There’s nothing on the surveillance camera feed. I sigh. I knew it wouldn't be this easy. Looks like Chanyeol and I will need to devise a new plan.

    Suddenly, Marge’s computer pings. She straightens up.

    “Alright, Ami, come over here,” she says, handing me a pair of headphones. “We have a new mission.”

    “And you’re letting me help?”

    “You were fine the other day. And it would help having someone else run missions, too.”

    “Didn’t you say that you’d been requested not to let me help on missions?”

    “Yeah, well...,” Marge sighs. “He can get over it.”

    “It’s Jungkook, isn’t it.”

    “That... that doesn’t matter. Anyway, come here.”

    To my relief, we aren’t supervising BTS today. I really don’t want to see Jungkook again- especially in action. Instead, Marge and I are directing a team of powerful-looking men and women. They are dressed in casual street clothes. If I saw one of them on the street, I would’ve just dismissed them as normal people.

    “Callahan, are you ready?” Marge says.

    “Ready,” a man responds.

“Ami, pull up satellite footage of 543 Oak Trail.”

I show her a video feed of a rundown, one-story house, sitting next to similar homes of the same design. A pothole-speckled road sits in the middle of a wilted patch of grass. The only source of light comes from a dim little streetlight.

“All clear,” Marge says tersely. “Go ahead. Remember, we have one target. Turn on your body cameras.”

    Four different video streams pop up on Marge’s screen. They show different angles of the same shot. On the satellite view screen, I see a black sedan pull in front of 543 Oak Trail. The Yohan agents emerge from the car and stealthily slip into the house. The video footage on Marge’s laptop shows them weaving their way through the building, like they have memorized the location of every single room and piece of furniture in the home- they probably have. The faint sound of television laughter echoes from the living room. A strange thudding is audible from time to time.

One of the cameras veers off towards a bedroom near the corner of the house. Slowly, the agent opens the door. A tall, lanky teenager lays sprawled out on a bed, snoring loudly.

The 4 Flames member deftly clamps a handkerchief on the boy’s face. His snoring abruptly ceases.

“Target acquired,” she states. “Everyone out.”

And they haul the boy out the window and into the sedan without a peep.

“Mission accomplished,” she says.

I turn to Marge in bewilderment. “Why did we take him in?”

    She purses her lips. “I need you to erase him. Daniel Braxton. His profile’s on my desk.”

    “What?! You can’t just-,”

    “Go erase him, dammit!”

    “What are we going to do with him? Why are we kidnapping boys who’re barely older than me? Oh my god, does BTS do this, too?!”

    “Shut up, Ami!” Marge exclaims, slamming her hand down on her desk. I pause, my mouth gaping open in astonishment. She is glaring at me, her chest heaving.

    “How many times do I have to say this?” she utters in a deadly voice, shoving her face right in front of mine. “Don’t. Question. Anything. They will not murder you. They will annihilate everyone you love. Everyone around you will be gone. Why won’t you listen to me?”

    My eyes widen.

"You know what?" she says. "Jungkook was right. I shouldn't have started you on missions."

Before I can even ponder what to respond with, Marge has stormed out of the room.

    What the hell did they do to Marge?

    I heard the anguish in her voice. I saw the pain in her eyes.

    But she doesn’t know that I’m already doing things that will make the 4 Flames slaughter everyone I care about anyway.

    I need to look into this further.

    So instead of erasing Daniel Braxton, I call Chanyeol.