Bora couldn’t bear looking at her father’s tortured face any longer.

She didn’t want to feel any particular type of way. In fact, she just didn’t want to feel, period. She was utterly lost, her brain overdosing on all the information.

She didn’t know what she expected her father to tell her. Not that. Because that was national security matter and way bigger than her. She couldn’t handle that.

She vaguely remembered telling her father she wanted to leave in a voice that was not quite her own. Above anything else, she wanted to get as far away as possible from that God forsaken place and its smothering darkness.

She started feeling sick and pulled a swirling chair out from the oval table with a shaky hand. She sat facing the large glass panes of the Operations Room. Now she could view what was down there and she didn’t know why she felt startled. That explained the whispers she’d heard when she’d stepped out of the elevator.

Because the elevator gave right away on a sort of training room. A wide array of equipment and gear was made available and in the middle were mats on the floor for physical combat training. From her spot, she surveyed the young people below.

God, she thought, some of them were barely teenagers! Her attention was drawn to a girl particularly deft in staff handling. She was taking two opponents at a time on the mats and even Bora had to admit she was pretty damn good. She swirled the stick and twirled like a tornado carried by the wind. It was both beautiful and ugly to witness as she brought her opponents to their knees.

They went in for another round and Bora tried to identify the girl’s tells. Everyone, her father had taught her, had a weakness. Be it a weaker leg, a hand they favored, or lack of speed. Find the tells. Use the tells.

Bora bent forward on the edge of her chair and squinted her eyes. The blonde-haired beauty -- she truly was beautiful,-- raised her hands, blocked her opponent’s staff and… there. Bora tilted her head, like a cat contemplating a mouse. The girl had her left side completely exposed. Bora kept watching as the trio went in for another round but still that unprotected left side, so open and inviting. Celeste the dagger would find a sweet home there.

“Miss Lee,” Her contemplation was interrupted by a new voice behind her, “pleased to finally meet you.”

Bora slowly turned around and got out of the chair. She assessed the newcomers. Mark, his brown hair ever so put together, cast her a dirty look that she shot right back. Jackson was there too and she was thankful her tears had dried. Jackson’s father looked a lot like him. They had the same nose and keen eyes. Lastly, she tried not to cringe at the man who’d spoken. One side of his face was completely burned, the sight of the scarred flesh turning her stomach over.

“I can’t say the same of you,” she crossed her arms over her chest.

He laughed. The sound, coarse and misplaced in the instant, rang through the room. “You’ve grown into a woman but sure kept your sharp tongue. Your father did a good job of keeping you hidden away the past eight years, but when you were little, you often came here to play. Though, at the time, my face was still intact.”

She had no memory. Not of that time, not of him, even after picturing him with a smooth, untouched skin. She stayed silent.

“That’s enough entertainment for the day,” Mr. Wang readjusted his grip on his cane. “You should leave. Hyun Suk, this is not the reunion I’d hoped for, I hope we can meet again under better circumstances. You know our door will always be open to you. After all, you own this place as much as we do.”

Mark sneered his contempt. That he believed Lee Hyun Suk had no place in Division after letting it down, was a secret to no one.

Someone came barging in through the doors and quickly descended the steps waving an electronic tablet in front of him. “--established contact with the Blue House,” the boy said, short of breath. “we need  to call them to let them know what’s going on.”

He stopped next to Jackson, addressing him with a worried frown. “They’ve flaunted your face on every TV broadcast. They must have panicked for the hard drives.”

Jackson shook his head, unconvinced. “I’ve been thinking about that. They found us in the diner without launching a national manhunt. Why wait and not launch a search right away? No, something’s not right. They wouldn’t have taken the matter to the public’s eye like that. Something must have happened in the diner. I just don't know what yet.”

Bambam turned to Bora, finally noticing her presence. “You have your face everywhere on national TV too. The only way for it to be taken down is for them to know that you’re here at the Division and that the hard drive is safe and away from any civilian.”

“Do that and then we can leave,” her father intervened. “You won’t ever have to come to this place again after that.”

She pressed her lips in a thin line.

They didn’t understand. None of them understood. But she nodded anyway.

Mark gestured to Bambam. The latter plopped down on a chair and grabbed an energy drink. He swiped his finger on the tablet and the biggest screen of the room set high on the side wall lit up and crackled. A heavy silence ensued and...

The President of South Korea’s face appeared. It was an effort for Bora not to gape. It wasn’t easy as she took in who accompanied the President on each side. The President sat in a plush chair, the tip of the national flag behind him and, flanking each side of the chair, cloaked in the shadows, were Jaebum and Seonmin. Bora took a step forward, her nails digging in her palms in an effort to remain composed.

Mark’s father spoke with the President but she could only hear her blood thrumming in her veins crying bloody murder. She stared Seonmin down, picturing herself gouging his eyes out and she could’ve sworn he was staring right back at her.

“The matter has been handled. There’ll be more damage control in the future,” Mr. Wang said with a quick side glance in passing at Jackson. “In the meantime, as you can see, the hard drives are safe with us. Lee Hyun Suk will keep his daughter in check. Everything is back to normal on our side.”

There was a silence where the president assessed them with his dark eyes beneath bushy eyebrows. Then, he said, “What tells me she won’t speak?”

“She’s--”

“I,” Bora cut Jackson, “am very much capable of speaking for myself. And I won’t speak because I can put two and two together. I understand what all of this entails and that it would be madness to reveal the content of the hard drives to the nation. I won’t make the same mistakes as my mother.”

Oh, she most certainly wouldn’t.

“Fine,” The President shrugged seeing nothing worthy to be treated as a threat. He added casually, “We’ve heard of another civilian being involved.”

Woobin. The tension in the room went up a notch.

Bora in a breath just as Jackson cut in, “I’m afraid you’re misinformed.”

The President’s severe eyes pierced through the screen and she felt squeamish. She was stupid for letting her emotions scrap at her façade. She copied Jackson’s stance, projecting as much confidence as she could. Finally, the man dipped his chin before the screen turned black.

Bora loosed the breath she’d been holding in.

“You work with him,” she said to no one in particular bobbing, nodding furiously and pacing back and forth. They worked with Seonmin. They worked with her mother’s executioner. She stopped her pacing and turned to her father. “Why are you not going after him?”

“The faster you’re back in Seoul, the better,” Mr. Wang said to her father not giving him a chance to speak after stealing a quick glance Bora’s way.

“He killed Mom, tried to kill me, and you let him walk free, unpunished? This man admitted to killing my mother, your wife. He rammed his truck into our car. He tortured me.” She screamed and slammed her hands on the glass table in a rattle.

“We don’t expect you,” Mark’s father intervened slowly, “to understand how politics or business work overnight, Miss Lee. We all loved your mother very deeply and sincerely regret her death. We mourned her here just as you did in Seoul, but sometimes you have to put aside your personal vendettas. For the greater good.”

“The greater--” She bit her tongue to refrain a curse, reminding herself she owed respect to her elders. She ran her tongue over her teeth and curled her fingers into fists resting over the table and slowly said, “If you won’t do anything to stop him, I will.”

“Really?” Mark piped in. “I’m dying to hear your take on how to take down the President’s right hand man.”

She loosed a breath and straightened her back. She slowly extended a hand behind her gesturing to the people training in the pit below. “You have this whole black-ops organization with trained assassins.”

“We’re not assass--” Bambam started.

“Except,” Mark interrupted, “I’m the Leader of Division and I won’t put any of my assassins on this fool’s errand.”

A small smile curled her lips. “According to whom? Did you compete to become Leader?”

Of course, she knew he had not. She’d scraped enough from conversations here and there to piece it all together. Mark was the designated Leader of the Division, but he was untried. The only person who could have, Jackson, didn’t want to, and the other one, herself, had been walled away in Seoul.

But not anymore.

“What makes you a good fit?” She poked again. “Were you challenged?”

Mark bared his teeth at her and in two strides he was charging towards her. “Watch your mouth.”

She advanced to meet him but her view was obstructed by a hard body as Jackson placed himself between the two. His face was calm but she felt his uneasiness as he peered down at her, his eyes holding a thousand questions.

Her smile grew. She turned to face them all as she was struck with a moment of pure clarity.

“I want to compete.”

Time stopped.

“Oh, I love where this is going.”  Bambam chewed on the straw of his drink.

“I’m sorry, you what?”

“You heard me. I want to compete. In other words,” she drawled, “I challenge you, Mark Tuan, as Leader of the Division.”

“No.”

“I’m not asking you.”

“No.”

“You founded the Division,” she addressed herself to their three fathers who stood on the side, thunderstruck. “You wanted your children to ensure continuity, I heard everything. Mark and Jackson should have battled it out. Wang passed the opportunity.” She paused, pointed a finger to her chest and shook her head, “I didn’t.”

Mark blanched. “You missed the boat.”

“Are these rules written in stone? I’m a daughter of one of the founders of this organization,” Bora asserted, both hands lying flat against the table. “I’m just as entitled to take it over as you are.”

Mark laughed, dismissing her. “We’re not doing this. End of discussion.”

“Is it because I’m a girl?”

“Because you’re young,” a husky voice cut in, quiet like death over their screams, “inexperienced, and don’t have a full grasp of the situation.”

Bora glared at Jackson and pursed her lips, the feeling of betrayal heating her cheeks. She ignored him and jabbed at Mark once again. “You’re not legitimate, you got handed over the reins for free. It’s not fair.”

“Bora,” her father reached for her, “you need to --”

“This,” she jerked away from him, pointing an accusing finger his way, “is all your fault. You put me in this situation. You don’t get to tell me what I need to do! And you,” she pointed to Mark, “will compete against me.”

“Never.” Mark exclaimed, his jaw twitching.

“Are you afraid to get your kicked?”

She was halfway through her sentence when Mark grabbed her shirt with two fists. She merely smirked at him, channeling as much insolence as humanly possible in her gaze. Her eyes held a challenge he itched to make her swallow whole.

“Enough.” Mr. Tuan’s voice seethed with barely contained anger behind them.

Mark looked over her shoulders at his father’s face turning red. It was enough to dissuade him. He pushed Bora back and shot her a dirty glare, nostrils flaring.

She regained her balance keeping her head high and smirked at him. She mouthed so he could read on her lips, “Good boy.”

His eyes widened. He started for her again but this time Jackson was between them before he could wrap his hands around . She crossed her arms over her chest as Jackson str