Bulletproof

A pale wisp of steam curled into the night, rising like smoke from the crimson pool on the frozen ground. I glanced at Jungkook, his breath steady in the biting air, his gloved hand slipping casually back into his pocket. Beside us, the bodies lay still, as if the chill had settled not just into their skin but their very souls. The Agency always said this was for the greater good-a phrase polished and hollow, just enough to fit snugly into our minds when we signed up all those years ago.

They call me Kya (pronounced Kia)-Jeon Kya, though most have given up on pronouncing it right, so KJ will do. And my husband, Jungkook, well... we're a tag team, a unit built on timing and precision. Our work isn't the kind you talk about over coffee. We've spent a decade slipping in and out of places most people would fear to even dream of, working for faceless voices that promised a righteous cause.

But things have changed. Lately, Jungkook's been... different. Restless. A shade I don't recognize clouding his gaze. It was only a matter of time before the cracks started to show, and tonight, here, amidst the frozen night and cooling blood, feels like the true beginning-the start of something we never saw coming.
And now, the only thing we're certain of? We're running.