Jackson tore his eyes away from the screen and tried to shove away the best he could the images of what was going to happen to Kim Yerim in a few hours to the back of his mind. There was nothing he could do anyway.

“Jackson,” Mr. Tuan, something close to nervousness transpiring in his tone, “do you have the hard drive?”

“I do,” His arm heavy like a dead weight, Jackson pulled up the computer and hard drive he had confiscated from Bora and her friend in the diner. He emptied the content on Bambam’s desk to everyone’s relief. “But you won’t like the news I have. Bora and her friend cracked their way inside. They pulled the files.”

“Did they see what was inside?”

“My guess is they did.”

Mr. Tuan grunted and Bora’s father swore colorfully.

“No,” Bambam suddenly said, getting up from his seat. “It requires special coding skills that aren't taught in any school. Virtually no one who wasn't involved in the process of the coding from its early stages can tamper with this kind of technology.”

Jackson didn’t trust a lot of people but he trusted Bambam. Chances were high the boy was the highest skilled hacker in Asia, if not the world. He had been in a dark place when Jackson had saved his life during a mission and had hauled him all the way from Thailand to Busan. It was a wonder to Jackson how Bambam managed to remain a boy at heart despite all that he’d endured. Jackson had rarely seen Bambam so baffled by anything in his time working for the Division.

“You’re telling me we don’t have one, but two civilians holding classified information?” Mark gripped the edge of Bambam’s desk. “Yet we’re still debating whether we should keep her here and share with her every last bit of information on Division? Why not make a press conference and release an official statement while we’re at it? Just to see how much more damage she can do. The Division I know would already have gotten rid of that problem.”

That’s when Bora’s father snapped and Mark found himself pinned against a pillar, Mr. Lee’s arm over his throat blocking his airways. “Look at me, boy,” he snarled, and Jackson had to admit that for a man his age he sure did keep some of his military training, “stare hard and long at my face. We created Division from our blood and sweat. Bora isn’t just any civilian, she’s my daughter. If you touch if only one hair on my daughter’s head I’ll gut you and dump your sorry carcass in a sewer. Understand?” There was a silence, long and deep enough to hear a fly. “Understand?” Mr. Lee reiterated. Mark finally managed an imperceptible nod. “Good.”

Jackson’s father knocked his cane twice on the floor. “That is enough,”

Mr. Lee and Mark parted. The former was still fuming and the latter kept his eyes trained on the floor.

“You know I’ve always respected your choices,” Mr. Wang said, “When you stepped down, kept your family away from this business, Fan and I supported you. But the boy has a point, it’s become obvious that Bora is becoming too much of a hindrance. You must control her.”

“Bora is off-limits. You.” Jackson tensed when the man pointed at him. “Bring her here and let's be done with it.”

Jackson bowed and retreated to the glass panes.

“The rest of you can get lost.”

***

The euphoria of being back home had ebbed away long ago. Bora only felt empty. She didn’t know how long they kept her locked up but she found the darkness of her prison cell to be perfect to reflect on the past couple of days. More specifically, reflect on what she had found out about the Ghost Unit.

She laid on her back on the concrete floor and raised an arm above her face. She made out the wraith-like shape of her hand in the dark. Now, she understood what the Ghost Unit meant and why Jackson had worked so hard to keep her away from it. His crypted words made so much more sense now.

“If someone must drag you into this mess I call a life, I swear it won’t be me. I won’t do that. To you. To anyone.”

She had done that to herself and to Woobin. She had endangered both their lives in her blind quest to find the truth. She’d disregarded any possible consequences for Woobin. Regret picked at her like a vulture feasting on a corpse. If she had thought it through, getting her friend involved in this mess was the last thing she’d have done.

Stupid.

She was left with no clue on Woobin’s whereabouts. She wouldn’t let them harm him. She would make them understand he was trustworthy. He wouldn’t tell anyone about the Ghost Unit as long as he was left unharmed. Would he? Would she? Should she? She pondered on the matter, prying it open and playing with it, delving in the depths of it until something pounded in her skull.

Would they even let her live to do anything else? Yes, they had to. She knew her father, as much she resented him now, wouldn’t let them harm her. It was why Jackson had bothered crossing the country and back.

She understood more of Jackson’s motives as well. He had tried to warn her. But she still couldn’t bring herself to feel any empathy for him. If she listened closely she could still hear the lingering cracking sound of a spine breaking in two pieces. She shuddered. “Merciless bastard.”

“I hope you’re not talking about me.”

Bora’s heart missed a beat and her hand went to shield her vision just as the lights switched on.

“Son of a--” she started under her breath. Frowning, she sat up on the splotch of concrete her body had warmed. She brought a hand to her skull and glared up at Jackson. She didn’t let an inkling of surprise cross her face at his stealthy approach though he knew better.

She jerked her head in his direction, “You’re worse than that.”

“You just never stop, do you?”

“I have it on good authority you’d love it too much,” she bit back.

“False,” a smile tugged at Jackson’s lips but didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

“I can see that,” she cast a look around her cell.  “Did you come to have a tour of my new place or just to wallow in the sheer pleasure of witnessing my suffering?”

He crouched down to be level with her face, bracing his forearms on his knees. Her eyes were instantly drawn to his muscular arms where his tattoo s up his tan skin in whorls of black ink that weren’t mere patterns, she realized, but Chinese characters.

“Why are you so angry all the time?” he finally asked, his voice velvety soft.

Her eyes snapped back to his face. His head was tilted at an angle and he frowned, deep in thought. His thumb rubbed his lower lip like he was trying to resolve a particularly challenging math equation. Being looked at that way felt incredibly unsettling and she decided she didn’t like it.

“I’m perfectly calm, Wang,” she bit the inside of her cheek.

“It doesn’t look like it, Princess,” he said mimicking her tone.

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“See? Sizzling anger.”

“You make me angry.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

She yanked on the leash holding her temper. “What is that supposed to mean?” she said slowly, her voice harsh.

He shrugged. “Nothing,” But he still looked at her with the same intensity. “Nothing at all.” He stood up and walked to the wall on the side of her cell.  “Get up. We’re going.”

“Where?”

He tapped on something and the bars of her cell retracted in the ceiling with a cutting steel sound. “To your beloved genitor.”

She balled her fists in anger. Her father had sent Jackson, not even bothering to come get her himself. A dark smile curled and she didn’t know why she uttered her next words. Maybe Jackson was the perfect outlet for her anger. “Such a good dog.”

He didn’t even acknowledge her insult and it unnerved her even more. His cold, calculated calm was unnerving. She wanted to see him angry, because it wasn’t fair that she was the only one being smothered by all her negative emotions. She wanted to break him, see him as broken and miserable as she felt.

“What, no blindfold?” She spat after him, when he was halfway through the hallway leading out of the cells.

He stopped dead and turned around, the picture of nonchalance, “Why? Did you like it?”

She almost choked but reigned in her temper. He was treading dangerous waters. Her lips twitched faintly, “What if I did?” she replied sweetly, catchin