Mike stood silently inside the stark hospital ward, his back half-turned toward the bed while the nurse worked with quiet urgency at Lili’s side. The overhead light hummed faintly above them, casting sterile brightness across the room as the gauze was carefully peeled away from her wounded shoulder. The nurse’s sharp intake of breath didn’t go unnoticed.
“Sir,” the nurse said softly but firmly, her voice edged with concern, “you shouldn’t be taking her like this. She’s injured, weak, and her wound… it’s not healing the way it should. Something isn’t right.”
Lili’s pale eyes shifted to the woman, and in them, she saw more than medical caution. She saw fear—thinly veiled, deeply rooted. And Lili knew exactly what the nurse was too afraid to say aloud. This wasn’t a normal infection. The deep, pulsing sensation that gripped her shoulder with each passing second felt alive—wrong in a way that went beyond infection. Lili had seen it before. Twice. And now, with a whispering voice clawing at the edges of her mind, Lili knew she was walking the same cursed path.
She swallowed hard, fighting the sudden wave of nausea and fear, and turned her head slowly toward the man who had been standing like a statue ever since he entered. Mike. She didn’t know the name beyond what he’d offered. She didn’t know the badge he carried or who had sent him. All she knew was that he was another stranger in a very long list of men with agendas.
Feeling her stare like a weight on his back, Mike finally glanced over his shoulder. Just enough to show her that he was aware, in control.
“Miss, I know what I’m doing,” he said without looking nurse in the eye. “Please tend her wound quickly. I don’t have all night.”
The coldness of his tone made something snap in Lili’s chest. Maybe it was the pain, or the fear of what was growing beneath her skin, or the sheer chaos of the past few days.
“It’s usual for people like you to drag half-dead patients out of hospitals, isn’t it?” she said, her voice hoarse, but laced with defiance.
Mike turned then, only slightly, but enough for her to see the full silhouette of him. Dark brown hair, clean lines in his suit, sharp eyes that didn’t flinch. “You’ll get all the medical help you need,” he replied, not unkindly, but without a hint of apology. “But you will also face consequences for attacking a government officer.”
Lili’s lips curled into a bitter smile. Her laugh was hollow, almost breathless. “You never told me you were an officer. I had no idea who the hell you were. For all I knew, you were my attacker coming to finish the job. So, forgive me for defending myself.”
Her voice cracked slightly on the last word, and she hated that. Hated how human she sounded. How vulnerable. She wasn’t built for hospitals. She was built for shadows, for knives in the dark, and the lie she had just told the police was already burning a hole in her gut. Now here she was—bandaged, broken, with voices in her head and a man with a badge telling her she was under his protection… or his thumb.
Mike’s gaze lingered on her a second longer than necessary. There was something calculating in it—not cruel, not warm either. Just the gaze of a man trained to look beyond words.
“You’ve been walking on the edge of too many knives, Miss Morgut,” he said finally. “Time to see which ones cut back.”
And with that, he turned away again, as the nurse finished redressing the wound with trembling hands.
Lili winced as the nurse gently helped her into a set of plain, dark clothes—nothing more than soft pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Every movement was a test of endurance. Pain bloomed through her body in waves, each one sharper than the last, and she had to bite her lip more than once to keep from crying out.
The nurse avoided her gaze, her hands steady but her face tight with disapproval. She was careful, attentive—but also distant, as though she was already preparing to forget this patient once she was wheeled out the door by a man in a suit and badge.
Lili could feel her strength draining with every breath. Her legs trembled slightly as she slid off the bed and stood on the cool hospital floor, trying to gather what little composure she had left.
Mike waited by the door, arms crossed, watching but not offering to help. His expression was unreadable—professional, distant, and infuriatingly calm.
Lili straightened, holding herself upright as best she could.
“Well,” she said with a cold, bitter edge as the nurse stepped away, “go on, then. Lead the way. I’m ready for the bullet in the back of my head.”
Her voice was steady, but underneath it was a tremor of exhaustion—physical, mental, emotional. Lili’s pale face betrayed more than she likely intended: the weight of suspicion, and the lingering shadow of near-death still clinging to her.
Mike’s eyes flicked to her, his posture still calm, but something in his expression shifted. It wasn’t guilt. It wasn’t even surprise. What moved behind his eyes was harder to read—irritation perhaps, but dulled by something else. Fatigue. A jaded understanding earned by too many years of dealing with fear and distrust.
“If that was the plan,” he said, his voice low but firm, “I wouldn’t have wasted another hour waiting around for you to be tended.”
He let the silence stretch for a moment before adding, more quietly, “I wouldn’t have had the bandages changed. Or let you get dressed. I’d have dragged you out with the IV still in your arm.”
Lili’s jaw tightened, her eyes narrowing. She wasn’t sure if that was meant to reassure her or to remind her how easily her fate could’ve shifted with a single order. Either way, it didn’t help the unease curling in her chest.
“You talk like someone who’s used to deciding who lives or dies,” she muttered.
Mike didn’t answer right away. He just turned and opened the door, motioning for her to follow.
“Come on,” he said. “You won’t find any answers inside this room.”
And with that, he stepped into the corridor, leaving the choice—however illusory it might be—up to her.
That so-called choice felt like a slap across the face.
Lili stood motionless for a moment, her jaw clenched tight, rage and helplessness churning in her chest. The idea that Mike believed he was doing her a favor—offering her some illusion of freedom—made her stomach twist. There was no real choice. Not for people like her. Not in a world where every path led back to someone else’s leash.
Her thoughts spun rapidly, darting between possibilities, weighing risks she couldn’t afford to misjudge. Would following this government officer be seen as betrayal by her boss? Would it raise suspicion within the Stronghold ranks? Would Torin assume she’d flipped, sold them out the moment she got scared?
But what was her alternative—run? Hide? She’d barely survived a sniper’s bullet. She was too weak to defend herself, too exposed to disappear, and too close to something bigger than herself to risk being discarded as a liability. No… she had to keep the game going. Keep up the lie. Just a secretary. Wrong place. Wrong time.
Lili bit down on her lip hard enough to sting and took a slow breath through her nose. Her shoulder throbbed. Her head swam. But her legs carried her forward.
She stepped into the hallway. Mike was already waiting ahead, cool and unreadable, and without a word, he led her toward the rear exit.
The air outside was sharp and cold, cutting into her lungs. The parking lot was dimly lit, the city humming quietly in the distance. Mike moved ahead. When they reached the black car waiting by the curb, he stepped to the passenger side and opened the door for her.
That, more than anything, made her pause. The courtesy. It wasn’t trust, it wasn’t kindness—it was protocol, or maybe just habit. But the gesture still unsettled her.
She hesitated at the open door. Then, without a word, she slid into the seat.
Mike closed the door behind her with a solid thunk, sealing her inside what felt like a cage with no visible bars.
Mike gave the street one last scan before slipping into the driver’s seat beside her. The moment he turned the ignition, the engine roared to life, and the car surged forward. Lili jolted slightly in her seat, bracing herself with one hand against the door as the city lights blurred past the window.
“In a rush?” she asked, casting a side glance at him, trying to sound casual, though her voice was tinged with unease.
Mike didn’t answer. His hands remained steady on the wheel, his eyes fixed ahead, but she caught the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth. A smirk trying to form, quickly smothered.
Lili shifted uncomfortably and tried again, this time with less bite. “Listen… I’m sorry I attacked you,” she said, forcing the words out, stiff and reluctant. “You have to admit—someone gets shot, wakes up in a hospital, hears voices behind a door—they’d be a little on edge.”
Mike’s response was cold. “That’s rich, coming from someone like you.”
She blinked, stunned by the words. “Excuse me?” Her voice sharpened.
He gave her a sideways glance. There was something in his eyes—calculated, almost probing. “Tell you what,” he said after a pause. “You can keep up whatever game you think you’re playing. Lie to me. Lie to yourself. I don’t care. But answer me one thing honestly.” His tone dipped low. “What do you know about your real parents?”
Lili turned her head slowly toward him, her brow furrowing. Of all the things she’d expected to hear, that wasn’t even on the list.
She huffed out a dry, incredulous laugh. “Are you serious?”
Mike didn’t so much as blink. “What do you think?”
The silence stretched thick between them.
“How the hell should I know?” she finally whispered, more to herself than him. Her voice cracked slightly, and she stared out the window as if it might shield her from the weight of the question. “I don’t need to care about the people who abandoned me. If they didn’t want me, then that’s all I need to know.”
There was a shift in the atmosphere, a ripple of something sharper.
“Abandoned you?” Mike repeated slowly, and for the first time, there was emotion in his voice—not cold control, not sarcasm. Surprise. And irritation.
He gripped the wheel tighter, jaw tightening as he kept his gaze on the road. “You really have no idea what you’re talking about, do you?”
His reaction wasn’t one of detached government interest—it was something more personal, something complicated.
She swallowed, suddenly unsure of the ground beneath her.
“Who the hell are you?” Lili snapped, sharper now, her voice cutting through the dark interior of the car. “Since when does the government give a damn about my family tree?”
Mike’s hands tightened briefly on the steering wheel. For a moment, he said nothing, as if weighing every word before it left his mouth. Then, with an edge of something unfamiliar—was it concern?—he spoke.
“Lili—” he said, and her name sounded different coming from him. Not like a suspect or a stranger, but like someone who mattered. “You need to listen to me very carefully, because—”
He didn’t get to finish.
Bright headlights sliced through the night, searing into their eyes from the side. Lili turned just in time to see a vehicle barreling toward them at full speed—too fast, too close. Mike swore under his breath and yanked the wheel hard, trying to veer them out of harm’s way.
But it was too late.
Another car slammed violently into their side with a deafening crunch of metal and shatter of glass. The impact sent them spinning off the road. Lili screamed as the world flipped upside down. The car rolled—once, twice—metal groaning and glass exploding as the world became a blur of noise, impact, and pain.
When it finally stopped, they were upside down, the car resting on its roof, twisted and broken. The air was thick with smoke and the sharp, acrid scent of leaking fuel.
Mike wasn’t moving.
Lili blinked against the blood trickling down her forehead, gasping, disoriented, her heart thundering in her chest. Panic clawed at her throat as she struggled with the seatbelt, her hands trembling too much to free herself at first.
And then—footsteps. Someone was coming.
Lili froze, every nerve in her body screaming. Her eyes darted around the shattered windows, searching for an escape, anything—when a shadow leaned down beside the wreckage. Fosin.
His face emerged through the flickering darkness, half-illuminated by the moonlight and the dying car lights. He looked almost impressed.
“You just can’t stop surprising me, Lili,” he said, his voice laced with dark amusement. “Set yourself free. We need to leave. Now.”
Lili stared at him, her pulse roaring in her ears. She wanted to curse him, to spit in his face—but her limbs were heavy, her vision swam, and she could feel the bruises forming beneath her skin. Her shoulder burned like fire. But she wouldn’t show him her weakness.
Her fingers fumbled again at the belt, more out of defiance than strength. She didn’t trust him. She didn’t trust anyone. But staying here meant being caught, or worse—and that was a gamble she wasn’t ready to lose.
Still strapped in, she met his eyes through the cracked window. “This wasn’t an accident, was it?”
Fosin gave her a small, knowing smile. “Nothing ever is.”
Another set of footsteps echoed through the darkness, slower, more deliberate. Heavier.
Lili’s heart lurched. She turned her head just as another figure came into view—this time on the passenger side. Goran. His face emerged out of the night like a ghost from a past she no longer trusted.
Her eyes widened in disbelief. She instinctively glanced back at Fosin, whose expression had stiffened. He didn’t say a word, but the tension in his jaw spoke volumes.
They both knew what Goran’s presence meant. And Torin, wherever he lurked behind the curtains of this mess, certainly knew too.
Goran crouched low, meeting her gaze through the fractured window, calm and almost… sincere. The wind tugged at his coat, and the faint glow of a nearby streetlamp cast hard shadows across his face.
“I’ll help you, Lili,” Goran said quietly.
Without waiting for her consent, he reached out with gloved hands, braced against the crumpled metal, and wrenched the bent passenger door free with a grunt of effort. The shriek of torn metal split the silence. Lili flinched, but didn’t stop him.
He reached in, releasing her seatbelt with a flick. She gasped as her body sagged into his arms, her muscles too bruised and weak to fight.
He wrapped his arms around her, firm but gentle, mindful of her injuries. As he pulled her from the wreckage, the cold air hit her lungs.
Her voice came out a shaky whisper. “Why are you here, Goran?”
He didn’t answer. He just held her tighter, as if shielding her from something she couldn’t yet see.
Behind them, Fosin still hadn’t moved. But his eyes never left Goran. “She would’ve freed herself just fine,” Fosin muttered, clearly displeased, his voice laced with irritation as he stood nearby.
Goran turned his head slowly, a sarcastic smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah?” he said, the bite in his tone unmistakable. “Because dragging an injured woman from a crashed car was part of your subtle rescue plan?”
Fosin’s eyes narrowed, but before the tension could boil further, Lili’s voice cut through the space between them.
“Goran… let me stand.”
He sighed, lowering his arms as he gently shifted his grip. “As you say… partner,” he murmured, the word filled with something unreadable—respect, weariness, perhaps regret.
Slowly, he helped her to her feet. Her legs trembled beneath her, barely remembering how to hold her weight. The cold air bit into her lungs and her shoulder screamed in protest, but she locked her jaw and didn’t let them see the pain. Not Fosin. Not even Goran.
The wrecked car behind her still hissed, steam rising from the crumpled hood like a ghost escaping into the night. Glass glittered in the dim light, scattered across the road like spilled stars. The cold bit harder now, or maybe it was just the adrenaline fading from her blood.
In the distance, the whine of sirens cut through the dark. They were growing louder—closer.
“Both of you—move!” Fosin snapped, already striding toward the black car idling a few meters away, half-concealed in the shadows of a barren tree.
Lili limped after him, teeth clenched against the pain that lanced up her side with every step. The blood had mostly stopped, but the ache was deep, coiled in her muscles.
Behind her, Goran lingered for a moment beside the flipped car. The vehicle was on its roof, silent except for the faint ticking of a cooling engine. Mike’s motionless form was still strapped in the driver’s seat, his face bathed in red from the dashboard lights.
Goran’s lip curled slightly—not in malice, but in something colder. Satisfaction.
“Not so untouchable now, are you?” he muttered under his breath, then turned sharply and followed the others…
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