Min Jun-ho was sitting in his leather chair, his fingers intertwined over his abdomen, analyzing financial reports on his tablet. He was at the Promisse Club. His black eyes, deep as the night itself, were on high alert. Sending Salin with Boris on a rescue mission wasn't just a test; it was a risky exercise in trust.
But then his cell phone rang. And, in that very second, the door opened.
It was Haru, Jun-ho's executive secretary and direct intelligence analyst. The phone on the desk was ringing with her call, but she had run there in person. Her face was ashen and she seemed to be trembling.
— It's Maddox... — Haru choked out. — The data cross-referencing... the intelligence sweep just processed the algorithms for our client's kidnapping.
Jun-ho looked up. The darkness in his eyes hardened.
— Report, Haru. Without stuttering.
