black cloud ¦ lee haechan

ch ; 32

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒ 32 ༒ ˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -
One Way or Another

Hayez skidded the nondescript van to a stop in the darkened alley behind the safehouse, the engine sputtering its final breaths before dying completely. Relief washed over him, a fleeting sensation overshadowed by the sight of Kory scrambling out of the car without a word.

He watched, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach, as she practically beelined for the back door, her movements jerky and strained.

Hayez caught a glimpse of the raw red mark circling her throat, a stark reminder of their harrowing escape.

Just outside the doorway, Kory collided with Jiha, who had been emerging from the safehouse.

Jiha, ever observant, took one look at Kory's pale face and the angry mark on her neck, and her brow furrowed in concern.

Unlike Hayez, who was a hardened veteran of the NCTECH world, Jiha possessed a youthful idealism that hadn't yet been completely ground down by the harsh realities of their line of work.

She knew all too well the demands their jobs placed on them, the physical and mental tolls they exacted.

But Jiha, despite her training, also held a deep-seated resentment towards the casual misogyny that permeated the criminal underworld.

Women, especially young women like Kory, were often seen as expendable assets, pawns to be sacrificed in the grand scheme of things.

Jiha understood the unspoken rules, the way men like Hayez could get away with rough treatment, while a woman like Kory wouldn't even be afforded the courtesy of an apology.

"Kory, what happened?" Jiha asked, her voice laced with concern and a hint of anger. She knew better than to pry in front of Hayez, but the urgency in her voice was unmistakable.

Kory, her eyes red-rimmed and her voice hoarse, simply shook her head and mumbled a barely audible "nothing" before slipping past Jiha and disappearing into the safehouse.

Hayez, who had been following close behind, met Jiha's gaze. His expression was unreadable, a mask of stoicism that hid the turmoil brewing beneath the surface.

He knew he owed Kory an explanation, an apology even.

But the weight of the failed mission and the chaos of their escape left him feeling raw and vulnerable, emotions he wasn't accustomed to dealing with.

He opted for silence, brushing past Jiha and heading towards his own room. As he walked, he couldn't shake the image of Kory's tear-streaked face and the tremor in her hand as she clutched his arm during their escape.

Hayez slammed the door of his room shut, the sound echoing through the small safehouse. He leaned against the rough wood, a sigh escaping his lips. He couldn't deny the protectiveness he'd felt towards Kory, the surge of anger that had coursed through him when he'd seen her being choked.

But Hayez was a man who thrived on control, and the unfamiliar emotions swirling within him threatened that control. He pushed them down, burying them deep within the recesses of his mind. They had a debriefing with Mark to contend with, and right now, focusing on the mission was the only way to maintain his sanity.

However, as he stared at the bare walls of his room, a single thought lingered in the back of his mind – a thought he couldn't quite extinguish.

In the midst of the chaos, amidst the fear and the adrenaline, had something unexpected taken root within him?

-

The sterile white walls of her room greeted Kory with a suffocating bleakness.

Her eyes, raw and swollen from crying, darted around the sparse space, finding no solace in its familiarity.

The events of the previous day replayed in a relentless loop – the cold grip around her throat, the deafening roar of Hayez's weapon, the desperate scramble for escape.

With a shaky breath, Kory pushed herself out of bed, her muscles stiff and protesting.

She shuffled towards the bathroom, the echo of her bare feet against the cold floor amplifying the hollowness within her.

As she splashed water on her face, trying to wash away the lingering fear, a sliver of determination hardened her resolve.

She wouldn't let this break her.

Stepping out of her room, Kory found herself face-to-face with Rhys.

He gave her a curt nod, his eyes lingering for a moment on the red mark marring her neck before he grunted a greeting and lumbered past.

Further down the hallway, Joaquin, with a perpetually rumpled t-shirt and steely eyes, leaned against the wall, his phone clutched in his hand.

He looked up at Kory, his playful demeanor replaced by a concern that mirrored Jiha's.

"Hey," he said, his voice hesitant. "You alright?"

Kory forced a smile, the gesture feeling brittle on her lips. "Yeah, just a little shaken."

Joaquin's gaze softened. "That was a rough one, rookie. We all saw the reports. Seems like things went south real quick."

Reports. Kory winced internally. The mission, their near capture, it would all be twisted and spun for public consumption. Their existence, their sacrifice, would be reduced to a single line on a news feed.

"Don't worry about it," she said, her voice stronger this time. "We're okay. That's the important thing."

Joaquin didn't seem entirely convinced, but he didn't press the issue. Instead, he offered a small, hesitant smile. "Well, if you need anything – anything at all," he tapped his chest with a finger, "Informations, distractions, a shoulder to cry on – you just let me know."

"Thanks, Joaquin?" she replied, the corner of her lips twitching upwards in a genuine smile. "I appreciate it."

-

Continued.