When he’d taken her to what had once been the only place that could keep him together, some part of Kai had felt so hurt and angry at himself. That place belonged to him and his brother only. Not to a murderer, to a psychopath who didn’t have feelings, who’d killed his brother in cold blood and never looked back upon it. It was a betrayal, a betrayal a large part of him just couldn’t understand the origin of. When had his heart shifted sides?

 

But she’d been falling apart. And, ironically enough, he’d been in the same state too. Everything that he’d believed in for so many years was slowly disintegrating underneath her fingertips. Who he was, what he was fighting for, it was all lost to some unknown yearning that was burning deep within them both.

 

Did that mean that what his mission meant to him was ebbing away too? No, a large part of him wanted to scream as he looked into her eyes. They’d reflected the murky waters of San Francisco. They’d reflected what his soul had been ever since he’d lost his brother. Because of her.

 

The thing was, he didn’t know. He didn’t have the answers to any of his own questions. Whatever the reason, he was slowly coming to the realization that he probably wouldn’t be able to just handcuff her and take her to the nearest police station. Maybe, once he confronted her, once he heard her say that she didn’t remember who Taemin even was, that it was just one of her million kills, that she’d even enjoyed doing it. Maybe then he’d come back to his senses and stop holding onto her and whatever mirage he’d been consumed by.

 

He’d tried to rationalize things. He’d told himself that he was trying to make her fall in love with him to be able to take it away from her later, just like she’d taken away everything from him. He’d told himself that she meant nothing to him, that he’d laugh into her face when she realized he’d been playing a double game this whole time.

 

But his fingertips that wound in her hair… They were too soft. Whenever he closed his eyes, he remembered the gentle kisses he’d planted in the hollow of her ears. He remembered everything too vividly, he wanted to repeat everything too much, he needed to get away from her and somehow get her out of his system. She’d taken everything from him… and now she was back for more. When she was done, would anything remain? Would he be able to somehow keep his sanity and his soul out of her grasp?

 

He opened his mouth to start the inevitable conversation that would break his heart and end her life of a criminal before the sun rose and the morning shone upon a new world where truth was finally out on the table, but no words ever came out. He felt a sting in his neck and was only able to gasp out and try to cover it with his hand before the whole world faded to black.

 

Now… even now, lying in a pool of his own blood and gasping out for air, he found it in himself to worry about her. If they’d disposed of her like they’d said, if she was really dead. If he was supposed to be happy because of that. He felt sick to his stomach.

 

Ironically enough, when he’d woken up with his hand tied together, hanging off a ceiling, he’d first thought it was a giant setup by Hella’s own men - although she didn’t have any since she always worked alone. He’d first brought up his guard thinking that she’d been playing with him, thinking that the whole bump-up and wanting-to-die thing had been one giant lie to get him alone and disgrace him like this.

 

But it was nothing like that. They were both victims, and it was his fault. If they’d really killed her… He couldn’t bring himself to finish that thought. She was alive. She was behind another door in the same worn-down wooden shack, receiving the same - or hopefully better - treatment because she wasn’t their primary target. She didn’t even know anything about any of this.

 

He was brought out of his thoughts by the same annoying voice that he’d been listening to for the past hour. “So, Detective Kim? Are we feeling any more cooperative now? Or should I let my associate here work on you a little bit longer?”

 

The redhead in front of him was the worst kind of trash from the underground. She was perhaps in her forties, her cheeks full of scars from long-term usage of too much makeup and the expression on her face was that of a cynical viper that was slowly gaining advantage on its enemy. He didn’t even want to get started on the cheap outfit of a businesswoman.

 

The redhead waited for a second, then let out a dramatic sigh. “Oh, will you just freaking cut it out? I don’t have all day for this!”

 

Jongin kept wondering how on earth they’d managed to track him down, but then again, of course he knew how. Ever since that encounter in the safehouse, he’d been the opposite of what he usually was. He was getting sloppy, impulsive, going on instinct, risking everything instead of being careful. Stupid cop had probably been written all over his face while he was chasing Hella down the deserted streets of San Francisco the previous night.

 

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he swore in himself. Meanwhile, the redhead had approached his boneless, panting mass and leaned down to ruffle his hair as if he was a high school kid. “Come on, Jongin,” she said in a parent-like voice that made his insides recoil. “We both know I’ll get what I want. Now be a good boy and give up on that whole honorable act and give it to me before I’m forced to make some permanent damage.”

 

He huffed, again angry at himself for being so damn stubborn. When it came to Hella, he couldn’t do the right thing and decided to act all dirty, giving up on his own standards and beliefs. But when it came to his own life, he couldn’t give up on his honor and save himself this whole ridiculous show. So what if they found out? What did it matter to him if they found out where the key witness to the Lu Han case would be when they transferred him from the safe house to the temporary residence until the trial?

 

But of course it mattered. This wasn’t something where his judgment was clouded. He knew exactly what these slimy excuses of human beings would do with that information. They’d go to the temporary residence, ambush his team and kill everyone - the witness and three of his most trustworthy men. One of them had just gotten a baby girl a month earlier. He would never ever give up that location.

 

He’d had an hour to get accustomed to his surroundings and yet he’d found nothing that would save him from certain death. There was a gun pointed at him at all times by a seemingly 3-meter-tall guy that was sitting at the opposite end of the room. He was the main recipient of the redhead’s associate’s fists, and the guy was obviously a muscle freak. His jaw was throbbing, there was blood gushing out of his nose and his whole abdomen felt as if racing horses had been jumping on it this whole time.

 

He took a couple of shallow breaths and then leaned into the redhead’s personal space as much as he could. “Where. Is. Hella.” he barely managed to mutter before the muscle freak grunted and pushed him away.

 

The redhead seemed to study him for a moment. Then she sighed again, tsked and got up. “I’d told you already,” she said as she motioned for the muscle freak to start beating him up again. “You should be worrying about yourself now. Moreover, you should be praying that she breaks before you do. I have no use of her - if she doesn’t talk, she’ll be food for the fishes. If you don’t want the same to happen to you, then talk.”

 

He braced himself for another round of beating up, already feeling weak. The previous time, he’d tried to hit the muscle freak back with his legs, but then the tall guy got up and threatened to kill him. There was no way out.

 

“Hey, Mo?” the redhead suddenly said. The muscle freak stopped just short of connecting his fist with Jongin’s face.

 

“Let’s try another approach. Cut one of his ears off; we’ll see if he’s feeling more talkative afterwards.”

 

Kai’s stomach sank. So it begins. It didn’t matter, he tried to tell himself to calm down. None of it mattered. His mission… avenging Taemin… it was the only thing that mattered.

 

God, please, keep her safe, he thought as he closed his eyes and got himself ready for the torture. He didn’t want to watch the crazy look of joy on the muscle freak’s face, nor did he want to see the instrument of his demise in the form of a knife.

 

“Like hell you will,” he heard a familiar voice say.

 

Then a window broke and someone started shooting. His eyes flew open just in time to see Hella slit the redhead’s throat. The sense of pride he felt for her was wrong and he knew that the poison that was Hella’s influence was growing inside of him.

 

On the other side of the room was a man with a large flesh burn scar on his face and a hat with two feathers. The tall guy with the gun was no more, having been shot in the head. The muscle freak grunted a couple times as the strange man shot him in the chest multiple times. It all happened so fast that if Kai had blinked, he would’ve missed everything.

 

And just like that, it was over. He felt disoriented, not even bothering to wonder who the feather guy was or why he was there. The only thing that mattered was that she was there. She was alive and breathing and it was all that he needed.

 

“Hella,” he couldn’t help but say. “Hella.” He needed her with some intensity he didn’t understand.

 

She didn’t approach him. Everything about her was disheveled - there was blood gushing outside of a very big wound above one of her eyebrows, the blood had covered one side of her face and neck and made her look as if she’d applied paint to herself. She looked like a Native American with war paint all over her skin.

 

There was a piece of cloth wrapped around her waist. It was soaked with blood, and her own shirt was torn in places. But that was not what was worrying him - he saw purple marks around her neck. His blood started boiling, and a steady hum began in his head: this is your fault, this is all your fault, you have done this.

 

He writhed against his restraints now, because he didn’t have time to wait for the feather guy to release him from this ridiculous position. He needed to touch her, to see for himself that she was alright, to tend to her. They’d tried to strangle her, stabbed her and punched her in the face. And it was all because of Jongin.

 

“Eliott,” she spoke, her eyes hard and determined. Why wouldn’t she look at him? The blade in her hands - her black blade - was bloody, but it didn’t seem to bother her as she sheathed it. “Don’t release him yet.”

 

“What?” he heard himself echo his thoughts. What the hell? “Yet? What, am I supposed to be hanging like this just for fun? This isn’t funny, Hella.”

 

She finally looked at him then, and his blood froze. There was something in her eyes… Something frozen. Some cat caught in a cage that wasn’t going to go down without a fight. If her eyes were murky before, now they were as black as night, although from the outside they seemed as blue as always. He knew better, though.

 

With her blonde hair with silver flames, face masked with blood, abdomen wound and sheathed black blade, she looked like a horseman of the apocalypse.

 

“Operation Tiger,” she said slowly, in an even tone. As if she didn’t care about it at all. As if she was asking about the weather.

 

Jongin gulped. But how… They had been questioning him about Luhan, a corrupt politician, one of Wu Yi Fan’s close friends. It had nothing to do with Operation Tiger. How on earth did she find out about that?

 

His change of demeanor and utter silence seemed to be answer enough to her. She growled and took the black blade out, then approached him in a millisecond like a raging hurricane. The cold metal underneath his throat woke him up from his hazy state where they didn’t need to be enemies, where he could save her, where he could protect her.

 

But it was already done.

 

“Tell me when Operation Tiger is taking place, you bastard!” she screamed. The blade drew blood - just a little bit, just to into further violence.

 

He wanted to laugh - it would’ve been better to just stay with Luhan’s henchmen instead. The look of betrayal on her face, the utter anguish that he was now seeing she actually was capable of feeling, this torture was a million times worse.

 

And it was all because of him.

 

“You’re going to kill him, Hella,” he heard the feather guy - Eliott - say. “Then he’ll be of no use to us.”

 

He gulped again. He struggled to remember that there was nothing wrong with what he’d done.

 

Operation Tiger was one of his most intricate traps ever. It was a trap he’d devised shortly after their first encounter at the safehouse, desperate to both get his revenge and get her poison out of her system.

 

It was the operation which would put Hella right into his hands. She’d fly into them out of her own accord, running to save her lover or whoever that doctor of hers was.

 

The thing was, once a criminal realized that the police weren't going to catch them, they stopped being paranoid. They started going to the same place multiple times and led the police right to their accomplices.

 

Hella had made a mistake on that day when she’d gone to the safehouse. She hadn’t thought about the possibility that someone would finally catch up to her.

 

While she was sleeping the painkillers off, he’d thought about the possibility of her getting away. No matter how slim it was, he had to have a plan B. So when he went out for groceries, he tried to think like her. Where would she go? What would she do? She’d obviously steal a car, the closest, the least conspicuous and most accessible one. And then she’d drive off to whatever location where she would be patched up.

 

So he’d put a tracker on the car and followed it all the way to Chicago. He’d found a single doctor’s office registered in the close proximity, to the name Kim Junmyeon. A completely clean man, without a recognizable face or a notable career. Just the type to be the private doctor of someone like Hella.

 

He’d submitted the information to his superiors and demanded to be the one to command the whole action. After that, the necessity to guard Yifan from potential assassins arose and he saw her again there. After that…. He hadn’t been quite himself. He hadn’t even thought about Operation Tiger again. He’d seen it as his final joker card, if everything else failed.

 

“But… it’s impossible that Operation Tiger is active. I am supposed to be the commander of that operation and I haven’t given the green light yet.” Had they started the operation without him? Had they seen through him and realized that he’d betrayed them? Maybe they held him responsible for her getting away from Yifan’s masked ball, which he was, because he had let her get away after…

 

The worst thing was, what hurt him the most was the pain in her eyes. Not because she thought he’d betrayed her, not because she was disappointed and wanted to kill him and all that. No, it was because he saw fear in her eyes. This person, this doctor, he meant something to her. And for some unfathomable reason, it made him feel afraid, too.

 

As Jongin crumbled on the inside, Hella crumbled, too. She slowly sunk into some place within herself from which he’d drawn her out and he didn’t know what to think, what to do, how to make her believe what he was saying was true.

 

“Did you arrange this?” she said in a hollow high-pitched voice, once again forcing the blade against his throat. “Was this a ruse to stop me from getting to him in time? Is that why you were at the bridge last night?”

 

“No, what, that’s not-”, Jongin started. He shook his head slightly, fearless. She could slit his throat in a second. And if she did so, he wouldn’t regret anything. “Hella, I never got to start that operation. After Yifan, my superiors were disappointed in me. They must’ve… they must’ve started it without me.”

 

A moment passed. She was looking straight into his eyes, and so was he, defiant and steady. He knew nothing about her, but at the same time, he knew everything there was to know. He knew how she smelled, tasted, how she loved and cared. No evil can feel like this.

 

“If he dies…” she whispered. “You will pay for it with your life.”

 

Then she collapsed.

 

“Hella!” Jongin shouted. “She must’ve lost a lot of blood. We need to get her to a hospital!”

 

“Well, seeing how you’ve brought the entire military onto her brother, I’d say going to the hospital is out of the question,” Eliott said. Then he came into his eyesight, hands on his hips. “Now, let’s have a short chat, you and I. Without blades and emotions in the game.

 

So they pushed you out of the operation. Can you find out from one of your colleagues when it’s going to take place so that we can call the kid and have him flee the neighborhood?”

 

Kai nodded. Of course he could find that out. Having ditched his private life for work, he was one of the most sociable detectives in the special forces.

 

“And then we need to talk about Kim Minseok. I bet you know who that is, right?”

 

Kai scrunched his eyebrows. Minseok, the guy who was Hella’s regular mediator who got her all her jobs. The one to whom he’d paid a lot of money to give her a fake job. What did that have to do with anything?

 

Once again, his selfish ego rose. Out of all his words, the only one he’d truly heard was brother. Hella had a brother.

 

He’d ratted out the location of Hella’s brother to the police.

 

When Hella woke up, she was going to kill him.