The sun is already up as I peel my face off the reclined car seat. I wipe my mouth, grateful there's no drool, especially since Sehun is already awake and driving. But judging by the ocean-view and grassy dirt field road we're on and the look of the farms out the window, I'd say we haven't gone very far.

Sehun's hair and clothes are somehow pristinely neat, whereas I'm less so, based on a quick assessment in the side mirror, which revealed a wrinkle from the seam of the upholstery running across my cheek.

"Remind me never to go camping with you," I say adjusting in my seat and removing the blanket we bought at the supermarket on our way out of Ansan last night. "You're one of those people who mysteriously wakes up looking like they're going to a senior formal dance."

Sehun smiles at me, and in the morning light I can't help but be impressed. "Will coffee help?" he asks.

I spot two steaming cups in the console between us. I didn't hear him stop to get them, but with the lack of sleep we got last night between finding a suitable hiding place and then waking every couple of hours to run the heat, I'm not surprised I slept through it.

"Yes, yes it will," I say, gratefully clasping the warm cup in my hand.

Sehun steals a look at me. "I take it school formal dances is a good thing?" he asks.

For a moment I just stare at him, shocked that Sehun, who seems to know everything about everything, doesn't know what school dances are. But then I realize that of course he doesn't. He never went to a normal school, didn't have normal friends, and probably never watched TV shows. 

"It's a formal dance, as I said," I say, taking a small sip of the delightfully hot coffee. "You get all decked out in fancy gowns and tuxes, rent a limo with your friends, and then dance to super-predictable songs in some themed venue. There's always pictures beforehand in someone's backyard with your parents telling you to stand near your date and then there's a rager afterward where someone sneaks in alcohol and at least one person winds up puking in the bushes."

Sehun listens, amuse by my description. I can't help but think it probably sounds like nonsense to him. "I always wondered what regular school was like," he says, and I give him a questioning look.

"You did?"

"Of course," he says, and takes a sip of his coffee.

It baffles me that this confident, model-esque expert strategist ever gave a second thought to something as mundane as high school. "Mostly it's painfully early classes and a bunch of teens taking their angst out on each other. You're not missing much."

"I've also never been to the movies," he says.

"Never ever?" I say with a heaping of dramatic shock.

Sehun shakes his head.

"Oh man. Jisoo would have a field day with you," I say, and realize this is the first conversation in a long time where I feel somewhat like old self. I look at Sehun. "You know what? When this is all over, we're having a movie night, and we'll watch all the high school classics. When the night is over, you'll know more about regular school than you ever wanted to." I pause. "So you didn't go to the movies and you didn't go to a regular school-what did you do?"

"Mostly Sejeong and I trained," he says. "Our days and evenings were filled with tutors, and when we weren't training we were shadowing ur parents and meeting our foreign contacts. There wasn't time for much else. An occasional shopping trip to pick up supplies or Strategia social functions, sure, but we didn't do what you would probably think of as typical. There were no visits to toy stores or theme parks, and there were definitely no playgrounds. If we exhibited our agility skills in the open, people would have instantly realized there was something different about us."

"Oh," I say, studying him. "That . . ."

He smiles at me. "Don't hold back on my account."

"That sounds like it ?" I say, adjusting my tone so the inflection is like a question, not an insult.

But he just laughs. "Sometimes it really did," he says. "Although I don't think Sejeong ever felt that way. She was the same as a three-year-old as she is now. Before she could even read she was carrying around books in a little satchel she got in Incheon, like a tiny lawyer." He pauses and I realize this is the first tome he'a actively shared what his life was like, not just a single memory or an explanation, but more casually, like he trusts me with it.

I lean back in my seat. "So that's what life would have been like if I'd been raised a Strategia, huh?"

He changes the hand he's driving with. "Yes and no. Not all Strategia have the perfectionist parents that Sejeong and I do, but there's always some version of training, especially for the kids who are expected to go to the Academy."

"And what would you do if you needed a break? What would you do for fun?" I say, not accepting that it's possible to have a childhood completely devoid of anything silly.

"Set traps for Sejeong," he says with a mischievous smile. "I once rigged a cake to drop on her head when she entered the dining room. I got in loads of trouble, but it was totally worth it." He sips his coffee. "And if I really needed some quiet time, I would climb up to the roof. There were parts of it that were just decorative, domes with cutout stonework and so on. I would tuck myself in one nook or another. I'm certain my parents knew where I was, but no one ever bothered me up there. What about you? What was it like being with non-Strategia so often?"

My mouth lifts at the awkwardness of his question, like the word friend isn't commonly used in his vocabulary. "I never really thought about it before. But I guess the best word to describe it is relaxed. Jeongsan is small. My friends all grew up together. There wasn't a lot of trouble to get into, although I definitely did my fair share of digging to find some. And people were . . . happy. I know it probably sounds boring compared to traveling the world and whatnot, but it was kind of perfect for me."

Sehun smiles at me like I just told him a secret. "I've never met anyone who was so happy to be exactly who they are."

"What?" I say, nearly choking on my coffee. "Right now I wish I were anyone but me."

"No you don't," he says. "You lean into life. Even now, even when you're being hunted by the Tigers, you gape at the streets of Ansan, light up over the sight of a Christmas tree in a hotel lobby, ask five thousand questioned about the Suwon countryside, and plan movie nights with enthusiasm. It's not just about the end goal for you; you look at the everyday world like it's something special, and you make me see it that way, too."

I blink at him, taken aback. But before I can say anything, Sehun looks int he rearview mirror, letting his gaze linger.

"Is everything okay?" I ask, resisting the urge to turn around.

He glances at me.

"I mean with whatever is behind us," I clarify.

"Ah, well, I'm not actually sure. Although I am sure we're being followed." He doesn't sound nearly as freaked out as I would expect.

I look at the side mirror nervously but can't see anyone behind us. "How can you tell? Do you think it's Kyungsoo?"

"A hunch," he says.

I graze out the window, wondering if he's right, if Kyungsoo is angry enough to follow us.

"Kyungsoo's precise," Sehun says, and his voice takes on the lilt it gets when he's analyzing people. "Did you notice his ironwork? His craftsmanship is exceptional, and he does everything the old-fashioned way, with precision and care, which is not only harder but more time-consuming. If I had to guess, I'd say he'd someone who has the patience to be a tracker and prefers the long route. We likely presented ourselves as an interesting challenge. Also, information about you will be worth a hell of a lot right now. So even if I've to be an idiot not to sell what he knows. Either way, the likelihood is that we're being followed."

➶ ⱠɆ₮'₴ ⱧɄ₦₮ ⱧɆⱤ ➴

Sehun looks int he rearview mirror for the thousandth time since we entered Incheon. He's been trying to keep things light the entire drive, telling me stories about him and Sejeong as kids, playing the radio show where they give hilarious relationship advice, and pointing out landmarks as we go. But our conversation never felt as uninhibited as it did this morning. I don't know what it is about mornings and their ability to make you forget, to give you a little slice of peace before the world descends.

I exhale loudly when Sehun says we're nearing the pub where the unallied Strategia socialize. A couple of months ago the most exciting thing going on in my world was the two-for-one cupcake sale at my local bakery.

"Is there anything we can do to make ourselves less conspicuous? Would it help if I dyed my hair or dressed differently?" I ask.

Sehun shakes his head. "We will just have to be fast and smart. Although I'm not sure that we're about to do qualifies as either."

I nod. I know he thinks this is a bad idea, but it's the only lead we have to help us figure out if that sign in Kyungsoo's smithy relates to appa.

"Is there anything I need to know about these unallied Strategia?" I ask.

Sehun slows the car down in a bustling neighborhood full of stone allies with dim lighting, street vendors, and cobblestoned everything.

"Well," he says, considering the question. "It'll depend on whether or not they are amenable to working with us. If we ask them about the specifics of a Tiger even without reaching an understanding first, we could potentially be telling them how to find your father."

I press my lips together. What a mess. "So start with a more general ask, then? About the Tigers, maybe?"

"That's what I was thinking," he says. "Like I said, the Strategia in that pub aren't like the ones you've met so far. While they do keep alliances with certain Families, they're more like free agents or . . .specialists. They talk big risks and get compensated accordingly."

"So they make their living doing things like capturing people like appa?" I wait for Sehun to deny it, but he doesn't, so I continue. "Back at the Crow's Nest, you seemed to know a few people . . . is anyone you know likely to be here?"

Sehun shakes his head. "I'm not sure. I only know this place exists because my cousin used to talk about it. But I've never actually been here or trade with a crew like this before."

I scan his face. "So we're winging it?"

"Something like that," he says, keeping his voice confident, but I know him well enough to know he's uncomfortable.

"Should I be worried?"

He focused back at me. "More like I should be worried that you can read me so well these days."

"These days?" I say with playful bravo to keep the fear from seeping into my voice. "Don't forget that I was the only one who could spot your lie in deception class."

At that, he smiles, big and broad. "I will never forget that."

And for just a split second, the chaos fades and it's just me and Sehun smiling at each other.

Then he sighs. "I actually heard something at the Crow's Nest that might be pertinent."

"What kind of something?" I ask, looking at him curiously.

"That conversation I joined at the pub? They were talking about a crew based here in Incheon, something about a job gone wrong that resulted Taecyeon killing the crew leader's brother along with a couple of other members," he says.

"Do you think they're angry enough with Taecyeon that we might be able to convince them to help us?" I say.

"I honestly don't know. It's a long shot."

"But it's worthy a try, right?" I say, and at the hopeful uptick in my voice Sehun frowns. I've never seen him this worried before and now I wonder if he didn't tell me about this crew because he didn't want to take the risk of coming here.

For once, Sehun doesn't try to spin it into a positive. "We'll want to get in and out as fast as possible," he says. "There's no such thing as a no-killing rule here."

For a brief moment I wonder if we're making an awful mistake. But there's no time to stew because he's out of the car and headed for my door. He offers me his hand and helps me out.

I look down at the outfit, jeans and a thick black Guess sweater, I changed into at a rest stop. "Will I be okay in this? I'm guessing by the look of this neighborhood that we're not going anywhere fancy."

"More than okay. In fact you might be overdressed," he says, and leads me into a cobblestoned street that's closed to cars. It's lined with small stores ranging from pawnshops to specialty bourbon sellers. I get the sense that a fair amount of the merchandise sold here falls on the illegal-ish line.

We turn down a narrow alley filled with bars that reminds me of a place where pirates and smugglers from a different era might spent their free nights onshore, drinking until they pass out, draped over barrels. I scan the numerous people in the alley, wondering which ones are Strategia, and I pull on my sweater tighter around my body.

Sehun leads me into a tavern called the Naughty Rock, which is aptly named, considering the soles of my boots immediately stick to the floor. We don't stop at the bar or at one of the scuffed wooden tables. We walk straight to the back, through a swinging door, and into a small pungent-smelling kitchen where the foods all appear to be fried.

I give Sehun a questioning look, but he continues through the kitchen like we're doing the most normal thing in the world. Even stranger is that the kitchen staff doesn't look at us. They just about their business like we aren't there.

Sehun opens an unmarked door at the other end of the kitchen, gesturing for me to go through it. I stare what what appears to be a supply closet and consider telling him that I've chnage my ming and we should go back to the car. But instead, I take a breath and reluctantly step into a space that smells of lemon and bleach. The door closes behind us, dropping us into blackness, and my heart makes one loud thump. There's a click as Sehun pulls a cord to an overhanging light and the bare bulb swings back and forth, casting wild shadows in the tiny space.

"Sehun?" I whisper, and he gives me a quick reassuring smile.

He stares at the back wall of the closet and I stare at him. He touches the wall, running his fingers over the wood and concentrating. Then all of a sudden, his face relaxes and he presses a panel. To my surprise and possibly horror, that wall pops open, revealing a door. Boisterous noise spills into the little closet.

"After you," he says, and I slip through the opening, telling myself that whatever helps me find appa is worth the risk.

As the room comes into view, my heart rate speeds up. A secret pub! Only it's vastly different from the one we just walked through. It looks older, plainer-large wooden beams frame its stone walls, the rustic wood furnishings are weathered but neat, and a huge fireplace has a large pot of what appears to be soup hanging over the flames. Iron candelabras with real candles dangle from the ceiling over long communal tables fitted with benches instead of individual chairs.

The men and women are nothing like the students and teachers at the Academy, except for their propensity for black clothing. These Strategia are relaxed and loud and slam their pints onto the tables so hard that the liquid sloshes everywhere. The patrons slouch over tables and lean against the bar, shaking their hands and pounding their fists on their knees as they walk. Maybe it's juts because they're drunk, but there is none of the Strategia precision and rigidness that I'm used to. Laughter and arguments filled the windowless room and I can't help but be a little awed by the scene.

Sehun looks around, and I follow his gaze. I don't know how to identify the crew that took a hit from Taecyeon, but I'm hoping Sehun does. Three long seconds tick by before his eyes settles on a table of men and women near the fire. I can tell by the way he lifts his head slightly that he's spotted someone of interest.

"We just might need to be a little faster than I originally thought," he says close to my ear, and I'm not sure if he's reacting to something in particular or if he realizes, like I do, that there is only one door and no visible windows, making it nearly impossible to get out of here if there's a problem.

Sehun and I make our way across the room toward the table near the fireplace, and when we arrive a middle-aged man with a beard looks straight at us. "Might as well sit," he says, taking a gulp of beer, "unless you and the missus plan on eyeing us from afar all night. Not that I can say I blame you, on account of my irresistible beauty and grace, that is." He uses both his hands to his beard. The guy laughs, and even though his tone is lighthearted, I know better. His humor is all calculated.

I scan the room briefly, but no one appears to be paying much attention to us, which I know by now means the opposite-they've all noticed that we're here.

"I don't know anyone would could resist that invitation," I say with a smile before Sehun respond. The man guffaws. I might not be well versed in making Strategia deals, but my gut tells me that keeping up the banter won't do us any harm.

"Now that's the spirit," the bearded man says, and slides over, making room. He pats the bench next to him.

Sehun smiles a friendly smile and moves in front of me, taking the first seat and leaving me at the very end of the bench. Considering he has been opening doors and letting me go first this entire trip, I find it hard to believe that he's suddenly changed his MO. He must have another reason, like wanting to put a barrier between me and whoever this man is.

The bearded man waves his hands in the air and a boy about my age appears, wiping his hands on his apron. "Bring two more pints and a couple more pitchers for the table," the man says. "And a big basket of fries."

The boy nods and sighs, like he's had the same request all night and he's bored out his mind. I remember Sejeong once telling me that all Strategia serve their Families, whether that means assassinating people or, apparently, waiting tables.

The bearded man turns to us. "Right . . . now let's see, the skinny one here is Yesung," he says, pointing across the table at a man with anime black hair-style and a similar complexion to Sehun's. "But don't let his appearance fool you; he's as strong as Shindong over here."

"I could crush him with my pinky, maybe eat him for a snack," says Shindong in a deep baritone voice. He is certifiably one of the more muscled humans I've ever seen. His face and arms are covered in freckles and his hair is the color of dark wood.

"Now, Shindong, let's not," Yesund says in a patient, almost tired-sounding voice. "Last time you went down this road, you sulked for days.

Shindong pretends he didn't hear him.

"Tiffany," the bearded man says, gesturing toward a no-nonsense-looking woman, whose hair is platinum blonde even though she appears to be younger than appa. "Best person to have if you get caught out at sea in a nasty storm or cornered in an alley. She's reliably steered our bucking ship and crew through the worst of conditions."

Tiffany gives us a short, perfunctory nod, and I wonder about these instructions. This is the first time I've ever seen Strategia actively offer information about themselves and others. But Sehun did say that these unallied crews make their living doing odd jobs. So maybe this is all part of the process?

"Sunny, our weapons specialist, with the fastest blade in all of Gyeonggi; before you even reach for your knife she'll have skewered you," the bearded man says, indicating a young woman with short ginger-brown hair. A silver sword earring hangs all the way to her shoulder from her right ear, accompanying her leather jacket and dark red lipstick.

"And I'm Siwon," the bearded man says, and wipes some beer foam from his mustache with the back of his hand. "Good at most things, better at some."

Siwon . . ., I think, and immediately start analyzing his name. Siwon's have fierce reputations and great sight. But unlike other Strategia, Siwon isn't a common name that has an ancient origin, and to that point, all of Siwon's crew's name end with a uniform -ng; but maybe very little away about which Family they are from; but maybe that's the point? Maybe to acknolwdge they're a team? They're using Incheon dialects, but I know that doesn't mean anything.

"I hear you're flexible," Sehun says, and I look at him, wondering if he heard that a the Crow's Nest, or if he's just testing Siwon. Which begs the question-what kind of flexible does he want Siwon to be?

What's interesting is that Sehun didn't tell Siwon our names, real or made up, after that lengthy introduction. And if Sehun's cutting to the chase like that, then he wants out of here as fast as possible. I imagine I feel eyes boring into the back of my head and resist the urge to look over my shoulder at the room.

Siwon laughs, giving nothing away. "I do like when a negotiation starts out that way. Means I can charge a hell a lot more." I look at his crew members to see if I can glean anything, but in typical Strategia fashion, they're impossible to read.

The kid with the apron returns and places two glasses in front of me and Sehun, two pitchers of beer in the center of the table, and a basket of piping hot French fries in front of Siwon. Just the smell of alcohol makes my head pound in phantom pain.

"Kanpai," Sunny says in an authoritative tone that feels contradictory to the sentiment. She lifts her beer mug.

We all follow suit and I manage a small sip of the bitter liquid before returning it to the table. Subtle glances from the tables next to us seem to carry an undercurrent of hostility. It's obvious that we're out of place here, and I'm getting the impression that there are at least a few people in the room who don't appreciate our presence.

"Everyone in town seems to be on the same hunt," Sehun says with no fanfare, and I nearly choke. "But we're less interested in the hunted than we are in the hunters."

I look from Sehun to Siwon and back again. Oh god, is he out right admitting that we're prying into Tiger secrets?

"Ahhh," Siwon says, and grab a handful of fries. They look so good I snatch a few myself. And he notices. I get the sense that he's intrigued by my casual gesture. "So you're attempting to hire us for a suicide mission, then."

Sehun shrugs. "If you think you can't do it -"

"No one said we can't," Siwon says, and his voice is prideful. "But finding myself on the wrong side of Taecyeon is the fastest way to end this life of luxury I've become accustomed to." He hold up his friends as proof. Even though his voice is light, there is a serious undertone to it, a challenge.

Sehun appears relaxed, but his eyes are laser-focuses. "From what I hear, your crew took a hit from Taecyeon's assassin earlier this year."

Something dark passes over the mood of the table, like Sehun just spit in their food.

"You've got a hell of a way of asking for a favor." Tiffany's tone makes my heart pound, and to make matters worse, the other patrons are openly watching us.

"Not a favor," Sehun says, and his voice remains unaffected by the tension at the table. "A deal. Something that benefits us all.

"When people say 'all,' they mean themselves," Tiffany says, finishing her pint and roughly clanking the glass onto the table.

I wince.

Tiffany stands up. "I'll be at the bar," she says to Siwon, and doesn't spare us another look.

Siwon frowns after her and I get the sense that losing Tiffany's approval doesn't bode well. As though someone flipped a switch, the rest of his crew loses interest in us, and they start talking among themselves as though we've already left the table. I glance at Sehun and I can tell by the look in his eyes that recovery is unlikely.

"Well, that settles that," Siwon says.

I immediately start to sweat. It can't end like this, not this quickly, not after the risk we took in exposing ourselves by coming here.

"That settles nothing," I say, loud enough for Siwon to hear but not loud enough to carry in the noisy room. It earns me a hard look from Siwon.

Sehun picks up right where I left off. "I know that not only are you in desperate needs of repairs to your vessel-let's say eighty million won worth?- but that you're also not the type to forgive and forget." Way to go, Sehun. I'm not sure how much of this he got from his conversation at the Crow's Nest and how much he's just making up, but either way, Siwon has put down his beer and is giving us a serious look.

"You've got my attention," he says, his joke-laden easiness noticeably absent. "But I'm not sure that's a good thing. Unless I'm wrong in thinking that by just sitting here, you've already compromised us?" He nods toward one of the tables whose occupants have been watching us like they might eat us for dinner.

In any other situation, I would run for the exit, but this isn't just any situation. So instead I sip my beer like nothing is amiss and take a sweeping glance at the rest of the pub. "Given the thirtyish people in here, I'd say that there are at least five or so who will be reporting to the Tigers that you were chatting with us." I have no idea if it's true or not. Siwon might know exactly who we are, but it's clear he knows we're a problem, so there's not point in trying to deny it.

"Now," Sehun continues without missing a beat, "you have a choice. You can either make a deal with us, a solid deal. One where you get your boat repaired and get to take a swing at the Tigers. Or you can walk away and take your chances with pissing off the Tigers simply because of his conversation; maybe you even get banned from doing business in Incheon."

Siwon leans forward in a threatening way. "That's one idea. Another idea is that I kill you here and now and drop you on Taecyeon's doorstep with a bow tied around your broken necks."

I instinctively glance toward the exit, but there is a group of people standing between us and the door and no clear or fast path out.

"Because you're dying to go Taecyeon a favor?" Sehun snaps back.

Something akin to a growl escapes Siwon's mouth and his crew takes notice. "If I have to choose between you and Taecyeon right now -"

"You do," Sehun says, and I see Sunny's hand move to her belt, where I'm she has any number of weapons stashed. I would slide under the table and melt into the floor if I could.

"Think carefully, now," Sehun continues like this isn't all going horribly wrong. "You may never be offended a shot a Taecyeon again, not liking this one. As much risk as you'll be assuming, we'll be assuming a lot more."

I look at Sehun, who is doubling down on any double-down. We're in as deep as we can go.

Siwon grunts and for a long second he's silent. He looks from Sehun to me, staring me down like he's searching my face for something. My heart skips a beat, remembering how Siwon figured me out.

"Look," I say carefully and slowly, forcing my face to relax and my hands to unclench under the table. "The way I see it, we've all been forced into one position or another by the Tigers, with little to no hope that anything will change. So we all have a choice here. Go forward together and fight. Or roll over like cowards."

A mocking laugh escapes Siwon's lips. "You don't think for a second that some kumbaya speech about togetherness is going to convince us to put our lives on the line for you, do you?

"I definitely don't think you would do it for us. I think you would do it for yourselves," I say. "Now I'm not going to lie, I don't know the extent of the hit you took, but if you've had even one-tenth of the experience that I've had with Taecyeon, then you can't be dismissing this straight out." I can only hope they hate the Tigers more than they fear them.

"More emotional bull," Siwon says, and waves his hand dismissively.

"I don't know, boss," Shindong chimes in. "I kinda appreciate the heart in it. The old Strategia would have considered this offer."

Yesung rolls his eyes. "Oh, great. Here we go with the sentimentally about he good old days." Yesung pulls the pitcher of beer farther from Shindong. "I'm cutting you off before you start singing ballads."

"I can't imagine what you mean by that. I have a delightful voice," Shindong says.

An amused look passes over Sunny's face.

Siwon frowns and sets down his beer. "It's time for you to go," he says.

Everything in me sinks. That was it. That was our shot at getting information we need to find appa and we blew it. From the corner of my eye, I see Sehun watching the table at the end of the room. If he's looking at another table and not at Siwon, it can only be because there is something or someone there of greater importance of his conversation.

"Maybe you didn't hear me," Siwon says, the threat more pronounced.

Sehun stands. I don't get up immediately, but by the way Sehun looks from me to the back table, I know that if I don't move soon, we're going to have more than just Siwon to contend with.

"And here I thought we were getting along so well," I say to Siwon, plucking up one last French fry and popping it in my mouth. "I even considered asking you to go to the masquerade ball with me." It's as indirect as I can be, as time's up.

Siwon glances from side to side, checking to see if anyone heard me. When he looks back, he's furious. "I'm going to assume that was a rookie mistake, given your tender age." His voice growls and he touches the knife hilt on his belt in a menacing way. "But let me be clear, if I see you there, or at any point before, poking around in my business, I will hand you over to Taecyeon with pleasure."

I stand and take a step backward, my heart pounding. Not only has Siwon confirmed there is a masquerade ball, but in the most horrible of coincidences, he is going to be there. I'm not sure if I'm deeply relieved that we figure out part of appa's clue or terrified that I've just made an enemy of Siwon.

Sehun grabs my arm and the moment I look up I  know why. Two men from the back table have gotten up and are headed straight for us, and by the way they are zeroed in on us, I'm sure they've figured out who we are.

We don't hesitate. We move full-speed for the exit, weaving around Strategis and between tables. And relief I had over the masquerade information is now eclipsed by panic.

Sehun flings open the door and I run into the dark closet, grab the handle leading into the kitchen, and push it open. I look momentarily for a lock, but of course there is none. At a loss for options, I grab a rolling rack of dishes, and the second Sehun clears the doorway, I wedge it between the door and the edge of the counter where a guy is chopping onions.

All at once, everyone in the kitchen turns to look at us, the room dropping into an eerie stillness. The kitchen staff don't try to hide their worried reactions, telling that at the very least, they're not Strategia.

Behind me, the closet door slams into the disk rack, opening an inch, but the barricade holds. The staff's agitation increases, and a few of them look like they might make a move toward us.

"Run!" Sehun says, shoving aside a kitchen worker who steps into our path. And it suddenly occurs to me that even though they're not Strategia, they might have been instructed to intervene if an event like this ever occurred. The instant I have the though, and before I move an inch, the guy chopping onions holds up his knife.

Without pause, I grab an empty pot and swing it as hard as I can toward his hand. But instead of lunging forward or swiftly moving out of way, the guy jumps back and drop the knife, putting his hands in the air. Definitely not a Strategia.

The door slams into the rack with more force this time, dislodging a few plates and sending them crashing to the floor. Sehun and I don't look back, we just ran-through the kitchen, across the sticky floor of the pub, and out into the dim alley. The moment the night air hits my face I shudder, not because of the cold but because we were only seconds away from being trapped.

We run through the crowded alley, attracting way more attention than is smart. I look over my should before we turn into the broader cobblestoned street, but the men from the pub haven't emerged yet. I push my legs harder, weaving around the drunk crowds and late-night shoppers.

The instant the car comes into sight, I find an extra burst of energy. Sehun clicks the keys and I grab the cold metal handle, but before I can pull the door open, pain suddenly radiates from my shoulder, like a bite from a horsefly or a bee sting.

"Ow," I say, my hand reaching for the burning sensation. My fingers find thin metal shaft and I look down. There, lodged in my shoulder, is a blow dart. Sehun stops dead in his tracks and turns back to me, registering the dart and immediately searching for the attacker. Over his shoulder I catch a glimpse of a bald hair . . . Kyungsoo! I grab at the car door, but it swims and shimmers in front of me. I try to call out for help, but the words gurgle and drift away from me. My legs wobble and I take one lurching step forward . . .

"If you think about using that blade, I will shove one of your horseshoes so far up your . . .," says a fading voice that I recognize but I can't quite place. My vision goes dark and all of a sudden I'm falling.