“Get any closer and I’ll shoot it.”

Mark let out a half-hearted scoff. He didn’t know whether she was bluffing. He cast a sidelong glance at Jackson but the latter’s attention was solely focused on Bora.

“You don’t know how to use that,” Jackson started tentatively.

“Don’t be so sure,” She smiled wickedly, like a cat who had trapped a mouse.

“Look,” Jackson took a careful step forward, “You’re gonna end up hurting yourself.”

Just as he said that, an explosion tore through the summer sky, so sudden and unexpected it felt like the Horn announcing the end of times. The two men flinched as Bora aimed a bullet to the sky, disturbing the peace of the night, awakening whatever dark forces lingered in the shadows of the trees.

She played a dangerous game and she knew it. But she was high on adrenaline, the hormone pumped through her system, altering her normal thinking.

“I swear I’ll do it,” She lied, adjusting her grip on the pistol. She hoped they couldn’t see how her clammy hands trembled. How they slid down the handle of the weapon and the metallic scent of the gun reached her nose. She straightened her back, “Do not test me!”

Her heart was racing, at a rate faster than a bullet’s speed.

Please, please, God. Don’t make them come any closer.

She’d never shot a soul. Yes, she knew the mechanics of firing a gun. But taking her aim at real flesh and bones people? Hell, no.

“Okay, okay,” Mark said extending his hands in a calming gesture. “We believe you.”

“Don’t follow me either,” She quickly added before her boldness faded out, not believing what was going on.

“All right. We won’t.”

She took several unsure steps back, not letting go of the gun nor letting them out of her sight. Then, she turned around and broke into a run, disappearing into the shadows of the twilight.

***

“Great job, Jackson! Just great! Exactly what we needed,” Mark kicked the gravel with rage, sending pebbles flying away. “What are you doing?”

“Calling Bambam,” Jackson replied blankly as he dialed their friend and partner’s number. “Seoul’s stuffed with CCTV cameras. Wherever she is, he’ll find her.”

“I hope for you. Because if this hard drive gets in the wrong hands,” Mark spit, pointing a threatening finger at Jackson’s back. “You’ll be the one paying for the damage.”

Jackson tightened his grip around the phone until he thought the fragile device would break into pieces. He wouldn't play into Mark’s mind games.

He relaxed at Bambam’s voice through the speaker, “You better have a good reason to interrupt my episode of the Bachelorette.”

“Bora escaped from the Clay House with the hard drive containing all the information about the Ghost Unit in her possession about five minutes ago. Is that a good enough reason to you?”

“Again with that girl?” Bambam huffed on the other end. “She’ll be the death of us. What does she hope to do with it, anyway? She’ll never crack the codes. They were developed by the NIS and upgraded by me. She simply cannot do it.”

“No, she can’t,” Jackson whispered, his eyes drifting off in the distance. “Not alone.”

It requires more than a semblance of IT literacy, he’d told the girl barely a night ago. He didn't feel like he was oversharing, then. When Bora’s eyes had shone with a light of understanding, he’d merely dismissed it. He didn’t like where his line of thinking was leading him.

“Run an additional background search on her entourage,” Jackson said, tightening his jaw.

“What am I looking for?”

“Someone with a background in technology. Educational, professional, criminal, anything. This is where she’ll go next.”

The first lesson he’d learn with Bora was that anything and everything was oversharing when it came to her.

***

Bora didn't stop running. When she reached the outskirts of Seoul after running down the hill that the Clay House had laid upon, she ran to a phonebooth and dialed a number she knew by heart.

“Please, pick up, pick up, pick up,” She repeated over the phone, constantly looking over her shoulder in fear of Jackson and Mark catching up to her.

“Hello?”

“Woobin?” She almost cried of relief when she heard her best friend’s voice. “Woobin, it’s me!”

“Bora!?”

“Can you meet me?” She quickly asked.

“Wait, wait, wait! What is going on? Everyone’s been looking for you. Where are you? What happened?”

“Look, now is not the time for questions. Can you meet me, yes or no?”

“Yes, yes!”

She stopped before telling him where to meet up. “Promise me not to tell anyone.”

“But your dad—”

“Especially not my dad,” She furrowed her brows. “Promise me!”

Woobin paused for a moment, probably debating what was the best thing to do.  “All right,” He finally said, “I won’t tell anyone. Just tell me where we should meet, and I’ll be there.”

“Remember the bar we used to go to on the weekends?”

“The one outside the city?”

“This one. Bring your IT stuff along.”

“Wh–“

“Come on, just do it! I’ll explain everything later,” Still he didn’t speak, and she added, “Please, Woobin. You’re the last person I can count on. The only one I can trust.”

Silence.

Then, “Fine,” She heard the slamming of a door. “I’ll be there in thirty.”

***

When Woobin arrived at their meeting spot, he looked around the bar and almost missed Bora. He did a double take when he finally recognized her because she was, well, blonde. She was sitting at a booth, and looked distressed. Her leg was bouncing up and down under the table and her nails tapped relentlessly against the table. She kept stealing uncomfortable glances at the bar owner to whom she’d ordered a drink to avoid looking too suspicious. Her eyes widened when she saw Woobin. He strode over to her and she got up, wrapping her arms around him, almost launching herself at him.

“Oh my God, Bora,” He murmured when she pulled back, her eyes moist. “What happened to your face?”

“I’ll explain everything later, but we don’t have time right now. Do you have what I asked you?” She gazed at the duffel bag he’d brought along.

“Yes, let’s sit.” He gently pushed her back down on the bench and swiftly slid on the opposite side of her.

“Tell me what it is,” he said seriously.

“Here,” she pulled a black hard drive from underneath her black jacket. “I need you to open this thing.”

Woobin zeroed in on the hard drive, face unreadable. “Where did you get this?”

“It’s a long story. It was—it was at the bank in a safe my mother left me.”

“Your mother left you a safe?” Woobin asked, flabbergasted.

He knew almost everything about her. Especially the things surrounding her mother’s death. It was that event that brought them together. If her mother had let her a legacy of any kind, he would’ve known.

“Not really,” She started but she didn’t know what to say. Bora never knew about that safe until she’d overheard Jackson and her dad’s conversation. “It was in a safe that belonged to my parents. When I turned 21 I got access to it. But I wasn’t aware of that, I found out by accident.”

“So did you get into it?” Woobin pressed.

“I tried. But that guy—”

“Jackson Wang?” Woobin interrupted her.