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The penthouse was silent. Too silent.
Hyuna’s gloved fingers tightened around the silencer as she stood over the figure sleeping on the bed. The infamous Luka. The King of the underworld. The man with a billion-won bounty on his head. His name was enough to send rivals running.
She expected a monster. Someone scarred, disfigured, cruel-looking. Instead, what she found was… this. A man lying peacefully beneath silk sheets, hair mussed against the pillow, chest rising and falling like he was any other man.
Her lips curled into the faintest smirk. So this is the devil everyone fears? He looks more like a saint.
She raised the gun, aimed between his eyes. Easy. Quick. No chance of failure.
But just as her finger pulled back, he moved. Luka rolled over, eyes snapping open like he had never been asleep. Sharp, clear, awake.
And they locked onto hers.
For a long, suffocating moment, they only stared. Her breath hitched. His gaze narrowed. And then Luka remembered.
This woman was here to kill him.
In one swift movement, Luka reached beneath his pillow, pulled a gun of his own, and fired. The deafening crack of the shot shattered the silence, bullets slicing through the air. Hyuna ducked, rolling across the floor, her silencer clicking back in retaliation.
Chaos erupted.
The pristine penthouse turned into a battlefield. Bullets tore through paintings, glass shattered across the marble floor, priceless antiques splintered to pieces. They moved like shadows, like predators circling prey, except neither was willing to be the prey.
Hyuna dove behind a couch, loading another round. Luka stormed after her, a trail of blood already staining his shirt where a bullet grazed his neck. But his eyes, God, his eyes burned like wildfire.
He cornered her at last, gun raised, chest heaving. Her back hit the wall, nowhere left to run.
“You look beautiful,” Luka murmured, voice low, almost reverent.
Hyuna smirked, raising her silencer. “And you look like a dead man.”
The next bullet whizzed past, close enough to tear skin. Luka hissed, blood dripping hot down his collar, staining white cotton crimson. His smile only widened.
“Beautiful,” he repeated, like it was a prayer.
And then, smoke. A sudden flash. Hyuna’s figure blurred, darting through the chaos like a ghost. By the time Luka steadied his aim, the window was open, curtains fluttering in the midnight breeze. She was gone.
The penthouse was wrecked. Glass and wood scattered, bullet holes in every direction. His neck throbbed, his shirt ruined, his body aching. But Luka? Luka leaned against the wall and laughed.
The sound was dark. Delighted. Dangerous.
Blood still dripping, he looked at the shattered window, the night beyond.
“She’s perfect,” he whispered to himself.
And for the first time in years, Luka smiled.
He would hunt her.
And oh, he would enjoy every second of it.