ANYA'S POV
"Found you."
The man's smile was a jagged blade in the dark. I didn't have time to scream; I didn't even have time to breathe.
In a heartbeat, the world fractured. The blinding white light of the assassin's flashlight didn't just fade—it exploded into a thousand shards of glass as Kenji's first shot found its mark. The darkness that followed wasn't empty; it was heavy, hot, and screamed with the sudden, rhythmic roar of gunfire.
A massive weight slammed into my shoulder, sending me sprawling. I hit the concrete floor with a bone-jarring thud, the grit of the stairwell biting into my palms.
"Stay down! Don't you dare move, Anya!" Kenji's voice wasn't the smooth, silk-over-steel tone from the office. It was a jagged roar, primal and stripped of all civility.
I pressed my face into the floor, my fingers clawing at the dust. I wasn't built for this. I was a girl from the North District who measured her life in the gallons of bleach she used to scrub muddy footprints and coffee spills off linoleum. My hands were meant for mops, not for shielding my head from the staccato rhythm of automatic rifles.
The alleyway—the night I'd seen Kenji stand over a dying man—had been my first taste of blood. I'd spent weeks trying to wash the memory of that metallic smell out of my brain. Now, it was everywhere. Burnt cordite, ozone, and that thick, copper tang that makes your stomach turn.
I heard the heavy, rhythmic clack-clack of Kenji's weapon going empty. My heart stopped. He's out. We're dead.
But the "Silent Blade" wasn't a name meant to look good on a ledger. It was a warning.
I couldn't see him, but I felt the air shift as he moved. He was a phantom, a shadow detached from the wall. Then came the sounds—the ones that made me want to rip my own ears off. A wet, sliding hiss. A choked, gurgling gasp that ended in a sickening thud.
It was fast. It was efficient. It was the most horrifying thing I had ever experienced, yet I found myself straining through the dark, my eyes wide and stinging, searching for him. I hated him. I was terrified of him. But in that moment, Kenji Tanaka was the only thing standing between me and the end of my life.
"Where is he? I can't—!"
The assassin's shout ended in a wet crunch. Then silence.
The ringing in my ears was the only thing left. I lay there, trembling so hard my teeth were literally rattling in my skull. I waited for a boot to find my ribs, for a bullet to find my spine.
Instead, a hand—large, hot, and slick—clamped onto my upper arm. He hauled me up like I weighed nothing.
"Walk," he breathed. He wasn't even out of breath. He sounded like he'd just finished a light stroll, not a slaughter.
He dragged me toward a section of the wall beneath the stairs. His hand slapped a panel, and it hissed open. He shoved me into a space so small I had to gasp for air. The door slammed shut, and for a second, it was total, crushing blackness. Then, a single red emergency light flickered on above us, bathing everything in the color of a fresh wound.
We were trapped in a steel box. It was a panic room the size of a confessional, and Kenji was taking up every inch of it.
His hand slammed against the steel next to my head, the sound echoing like a pulse. He was so close I could feel the heat radiating off his body in waves. His suit was torn, his tie gone, and his eyes—God, his eyes were like two pieces of burning coal in the red light.
"You have a very loud heart, Anya," he murmured. He didn't sound angry anymore. He sounded... amused.
"My heart is trying to escape my body!" I snapped, the adrenaline finally breaking through my terror. I shoved my hands against his chest, but it was like trying to move a mountain. "You're a monster! You've spent the last hour playing with me! You knew you could fix that virus in seconds. You made me sit there and rot in that cage just to watch me suffer!"
Kenji leaned in, his jaw grazing my temple. His voice was a silken, low hum that vibrated through my own bones. "I wanted to see the look on your face when you realized you'd failed. It was quite a view."
"I'm not a spy!" I yelled, looking up at him, my eyes stinging. "He's just framing me! Don't you see? Ren knows how you are—he knows you'd never keep someone you don't trust. He said those things over the intercom because he's trying to make you angry! He's trying to make you toss me back to him! He's... he's using your own head against you, Kenji!"
The air between us felt like it was about to catch fire. The chemistry was a toxic, jagged thing—a mix of hatred and a physical pull that I hated myself for feeling.
Kenji let out a short, dark chuckle. It wasn't the sound of a man who felt threatened. It was the sound of a predator who had just found a particularly interesting toy.
"I know," he whispered.
I blinked, the words catching in my throat. "What?"
"I know you aren't a spy, Anya." His thumb moved, catching my chin, forcing me to look at him. His touch was firm and possessive. "You're far too messy for espionage. You breathe too loudly when you're nervous, and you have the poker face of a toddler. If you were working for my brother, he would have replaced you days ago for being a liability."
My jaw dropped. The sheer arrogance of him—the way he had watched me squirm for the last hour. "Then why... why did you pin me to that desk? Why did you drag me in here and tell me you were going to kill me?"
"Because," he leaned even closer, his lips inches from mine, "watching you try to lie to me is the only thing that's entertained me in a few days. And I wanted to see how far you'd go to protect whatever it is you're actually hiding."
His eyes dropped to my lips, and for a second, the fear in my chest was replaced by a different kind of panic. He believed me. He had known the whole time. He was just... toying with me.
"I was hiding the files," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I just wanted to hide my father's medical files so you wouldn't find out I saw them. I accidentally clicked the wrong link. I didn't mean to let the virus in. I was just... I was scared."
Kenji's eyes softened—not with kindness, but with a dark, satisfied glint. "A cleaner who tries to play hacker for her father. How touching. And how very, very stupid." He brushed a stray, sweaty strand of hair away from my face, his fingers lingering on my skin a second too long. "I'll deal with your little secret later. For now, try to keep your heart in your chest. I'd hate to have to clean up a mess I didn't make."
He smirked, a devastating, arrogant expression that made me want to slap him and kiss him all at once.
But then, the smirk flickered.
The pressure of his hand on my jaw changed. It didn't loosen; it went slack.
A sharp, ragged sound—half-gasp, half-groan—ripped from his throat. I felt his entire body shudder against mine. The predatory fire in his eyes suddenly went out, replaced by a glazed, distant look that made my blood run cold.
"Kenji?"
He didn't answer. His head dropped onto my shoulder. His full, massive weight suddenly slumped forward, pinning me hard against the cold steel wall.
"Kenji, stop it. If this is another one of your sick jokes..." I tried to push him off, my hands sliding down to his waist to find some leverage, but he was like a fallen redwood.
My palms hit something wet. Something thick and terrifyingly hot.
I pulled my hand back, and even in the dim, muddy red light, the sight made my stomach drop into my shoes. My palm was painted. A deep, gleaming crimson was already soaking into the lines of my skin, dripping off my fingertips.
He hadn't been untouchable. He had taken a bullet in that pitch-black hallway, and he had hidden it just to get me here.
"Kenji!" I grabbed his face, my bloody hands staining his pale cheeks.
He didn't move. His eyes stayed closed, his breathing turning into a shallow, wet rattle. My mind raced—where were the controls? How did I get us out?
Then, the floor beneath us groaned.
A heavy, metallic THUD echoed from the other side of the steel door. Then another. The sound of something heavy—a ram—hitting the reinforced panel.
I froze, my hands still covered in Kenji's blood.
Hssssssss.
A high-pitched, screaming whine filled the tiny room. I looked at the door. A tiny, glowing white dot appeared in the center of the steel. It grew brighter, hotter, the metal beginning to liquefy and drip like wax.
They weren't waiting for the code. They were using a thermal lance.
Through the molten hole, his eye didn't move.
It stayed locked on me.
Watching.
Waiting.
"Ten seconds, little bird," Ren purred.
My grip tightened on Kenji's blood-soaked shirt.
He wasn't moving.
He wasn't waking up.
And I was running out of time.
Nine.
The steel door groaned as the hole widened, glowing white-hot.
Eight.
Heat blasted into the room, burning my skin.
Seven.
I looked down at Kenji—at the man who had caged me… and was now dying in my arms.
Six.
My chest tightened.
Five—
The metal split with a violent crack.