Jihan took the phone with the particular care of someone accepting something he already suspected would hurt him, and for a long moment he simply looked at the screen without reading it, as if delaying the first word might delay everything that came after it.
Then he read.
The messages unspooled in front of him out of order, screenshots stacked without context, and he had to piece the timeline together as he went, scrolling back and forth to make sense of what he was seeing. A golf schedule, annotated with times and street names. A photograph of his own wristband, the one he'd kept, the one he'd told his driver *it belongs to someone* about, sitting captioned with a single gloating line about a plan working exactly as intended.
*Trap. Ruin. Dispose.*
He read the phrase twice, three times, waiting for it to mean something other than what it plainly meant.
"Jihan," Tae-hyun said quietly. "There's more. Keep going."
