Chapter 212.2

Chapter 212.2

In a deep sleep, Seoryeong suddenly stirred. She rubbed her face against the pillow, breathing in the faint scent of Lee Wooshin that lingered on the blankets. The air was soft and cool against her nose, almost like a humidifier’s mist, and her lips curved faintly in comfort.

Bang!

Her eyes snapped open.

“Gasp!”

What was that sound? Goosebumps shot up her spine, but the explosion still felt distant, like something from a dream.

She blinked, forcing her heavy eyelids open inch by inch.

“What… was that?”

The ceiling fan above her was trembling ever so slightly. Not her imagination.

She tried to lift her body, but her limbs felt unbearably heavy, her consciousness slipping.

The room was clouded over, hazy like morning fog. Instinctively covering her nose, she rolled off the bed, dragging her limp body across the floor. Looking up, she saw white smoke seeping out of the vent.

How long had it been? Her head sank, heavy and damp, like a sponge soaked through with water. It had to be sleeping gas.

Desperately, she crawled toward the window to open it. Her muscles refused to work, her body trembling as the drowsiness dragged her down. Still, she bit her tongue hard, forcing her knees up, stretching her arm with everything she had left.

I’ll go. I’ll come to you. The words drifted weakly from her lips, half-conscious.

The door burst open, splintering off its hinges. Agents in gas masks stormed in, rifles tucked under their arms. The sight of those insect-like lenses made it clear she didn’t stand a chance.

Then I’ll…

The thought ended there. She grabbed at the bandages that still carried Wooshin’s scent, clinging to them with the last of her strength.

Her cheek pressed against the cold floor as the agents exchanged hand signals and bound her wrists and ankles. Moments later, they smashed the window, clipped a rope to her belt, and hoisted her up like a piece of cargo.

“Intercept them!”

Soldiers in brown uniforms stormed through the torn doorway, aiming their guns. Her heart plummeted, but strangely, fear never came.

No matter what it takes, he’ll find me. Lee Wooshin would never be the one to give her up first.

“Woo… shin…”

‘I was such a fool…’

‘I thought trust was something that fell from the sky, perfect like a gift or a reward. I thought I’d never be able to trust you completely again.’

‘But no… it wasn’t like that at all…’

Her pupils rolled back beneath her lids as her consciousness faded.

The grenade went off just as he kicked it away. The blast stripped the skin from his hand, arm, and shoulder in ragged patches.

He had been unconscious for about a minute. By the time he came to, Yoo Dawit was gone. Only the Gurkha mercenaries remained, shaking him awake. Seeing their faces, Lee Wooshin drew in a ragged breath and wordlessly searched the ground with trembling hands.

He spat out blood-tinged saliva as he groped for the earpiece that had been blown off somewhere.

When he finally managed to fit the pebble-sized comm unit back into his ear, his voice came out weak and shaking. Heat burned at his eyes.

“Owl’s been taken. Track her, now.”

—Team Leader! Are you all right? The signal cut off for a moment!

“I’ll give you the code. The tracker’s inside her body.”

—What? H-how?

During those five days he’d spent drowning in desire, he had pushed a bio-tracker deep inside her.

Even when their bodies were tangled and sweat-drenched, the unease never left him. Wooshin clenched his fist until bone showed beneath torn skin.

The capsule would dissolve and exit naturally in seventy-two hours. Time was already running out.

He shoved off the hands trying to steady him and forced himself up the stairs, one eye squeezed shut.

The door was smashed, the bedroom empty. The white blanket she’d slept under was trampled and filthy with black boot prints. A pillow had fallen to the floor, a slipper was overturned.

A few Gurkha mercenaries lay dead, bullet holes in their foreheads. Blood pooled everywhere, but he couldn’t tell if any of it was hers.

Enduring the sharp ringing in his ears, he wiped the dripping blood from his face. Then he caught sight of smoke curling faintly from the vent and extended his bloodied tongue to taste the air.

“Halothane. Anesthetic gas.”

A crushing wave of despair engulfed him. Wooshin exhaled raggedly, facing the shattered mirror. His reflection was ghostly pale, his eyes unfocused, hollow, like those of a corpse. He pulled the trigger, blowing the mirror apart.

With a savage expression, he tore off the remaining bandages. His vision in one eye was still murky, dark as if clogged with soot, but now wasn’t the time to hide.

He flipped a dead Gurkha’s body and yanked out the spare magazine and rifle.

“This is why I never trust Sonya to some pampered bastard,” Just then, a figure in a black priest robe appeared through the spiderweb of shattered glass. Black eyes burned like coals as they fixed on him.

“Lead the way, young master.”