Death Angel - Love & Redemption

Chapter 8

The woman, Seri, glared at him in disgust. The look was too familiar. He saw it in the mirror every morning. She didn't need to tell him for him to know he was trash.

Sung learned to ignore it.

Everyone's got an agenda. Altruism didn't exist, and no one was truly innocent. He was here to finish a job, one he signed up for at an age too young to know any better. As a boy, his dream was to be that hotshot saving lives. They got the fame, the respect, and the women. None of that happened to him, though.

What he got was beaten, shot, and stabbed too many times to count, divorced from his now ex-wife, and the luxury of feeling like shit every waking moment.

He should've read the fine print and demanded more job perks before putting down his signature. Now he was stuck in shitholes two years longer than promised, sucking up to the lowest of human garbage, and acting as an interim pimp and slumlord. At least he had a full resumé with an abundance of experience. That was rewarding, right?

But this woman was his ticket to freedom. Her hair a tangled mess, face covered in streaks of dust, and clothes crumpled with dirt, she looked far from the beloved deceased Madame the big boss obsessed about. But their resemblance was undeniable.

When they brought her in, unconscious, it was like encountering a ghost. He'd never met Madame when she was alive. During the times he spent at "headquarter", her pictures were everywhere. No one could leave a room without seeing her face. After all these years, the boss still wouldn't let her go. Some called it romantic. Sung called it demented.

"You know where he is? Take me to him!" Seri demanded, giving herself away. This man was important to her. A lover.

"I don't know where he is," he said, reluctant to tell her the whole story. The truth was going to piss her off, and he didn't want to fuel the fire, but he needed her cooperation. "My men told me he was shot that night you were taken."

Her face twisted into a painful grimace, a gasp flew out of her mouth. Moisture glistened from her eyes before she brought one trembling hand over her face.

"They shot him...?" Seri whispered. "Oh, my god. He... you fucking bastards." She pointed the gun back at him. "You shot him?"

Sung wasn't there at the scene, but from what his men told him, her lover fell into the ocean. They didn't stick around after that.

"There's no confirmation he's dead, okay?" Sung brought up. "They didn't try to look for a body. But there's a chance he survived." Unlikely. A vast, unforgiving ocean like that. The guy had to be fish food by now. But he wasn't going to tell her that.

Seri looked to be deliberating with herself, hope spread across her face.

Her reaction to the news of her companion was severe. She obviously cared a lot for the guy. And a woman deep in love like her could get desperate, which made it his shot at victory. He needed to finish the job quickly if he wanted to make it home. His father had little time left. Sung had to get back to him. He was desperate, too. Maybe even more so.

"Please," he said sycophantically. "I need your help. And I'm sure you'll need mine. You have nothing on you. No money and nowhere to go. I can help you with that on top of searching for your guy."

She appeared more motivated, and dropped her arms once again. Sung briefly thought to swipe the gun from her, but decided against it. He should stay on her good side. After witnessing through the surveillance how she handled a guard back in the station, then finding the dead men in the middle of the woods, he knew this woman was more complicated than expected.