Chapter Text
"Sniper, confirm visual." The voice coming from his earpiece was monotone. Cold in its certainty of their next command. "Take the shot."
"Copy that." Teetee's response was also cold with experience. This wasn't his first target, but it was one of his easiest. He watched the slim man through his rifle, his eyes scanned his face and he smirked.
His target was pretty. Breathtakingly so, like an angel and if it weren't for the circumstances he would have made a move on him. But what was the point of thinking about that when the man would be dead in a few seconds?
Teetee took a few seconds to steady his aim, his target walking towards his car, bodyguards in tow and fans on every side. A wayward shot would cause more trouble than he cared to take care of.
He had his sight on the target, finger on the trigger. His mind already produced the image of the aftermath; a hole in the target's skull, silence, then panic. He would have to pack up in less than a minute and vacate the scene. Easy enough. He just had to—
"What the..." Teetee trailed off as he locked eyes with his target through his scope. He frowned, certain that he was just seeing things. There was no way the target could spot him buildings away. And there was no way he could accurately tell where he laid on the roof.
"What's happening up there?" The voice from his earpiece barely registered as Teetee's heart doubled in speed.
He knew it couldn't be possible but the chill that crawled up his spine said otherwise.
No way.
A sweet smile lit up his target's face. Taunting as he brought his attention to his fans then back to Teetee on the roof.
"Why aren't you taking the shot?"
He knows it.
"Do you copy? Talk to me."
"He fucking knows I'm here." He dropped his rifle then slid back slowly from the edge of the roof.
"What?!"
"I'm aborting mission," Teetee called into his earpiece as he packed up. For the first time in years, he had this feeling again. Goosebumps rose on his skin as a bead of sweat rolled down his face.
Fear. Teetee tasted fear for what seemed like the first time.
No. It wasn't the first time. Fear was always wrapped around him whenever he went on missions. It had become a part of his daily life.
But this fear ran deeper. It ran into his blood. His bones. He knew his target wasn't normal, and every warning signal honed from years in this craft screamed at him to leave.
Or he'll die.
Teetee raced across the roofs of buildings, keeping low. He climbed down the side of a club into its dank alleyway and immediately went for the garbage can with a crow graffiti. He pushed it aside to reveal a hole where he dropped his rifle and his other equipments. It would remain there for future use in case he ever needed an extra arm.
He pushed the garbage can back over the whole and rose up with the careful aura of one who had nothing to hide. Quite ironic.
The alleyway smelled of alcohol and excrements, music blasting from the club and the dark corners filled with sounds of crimes or pleasures.
He made his way towards the busy street at the other end of the alley. He will have to explain to Rowyn why he backed out of the kill. And he will be punished. Severely.
He shivered as he tried to decide which punishment he would rather contend with. His legs almost made the decision to run away but his head knew it was stupid. That would make Rowyn snap.
A sigh. He really just wanted to go home and lay on his bed and be done with it. He stepped into a puddle and heard footsteps. He spun around, arms raised, wishing he had a pistol, but he saw no one behind him. Strange. He could've sworn—
A sharp pain at the back of his head, then he was falling to wet, disgusting alley floor.
"Be careful with him or you lose your hands." The voice drowned together with Teetee's head as he was dragged into unconsciousness.
Fuck. I am so fucked
He could feel the bonds before he saw them. His arms tied with what felt like chains behind a chair, and something clamped around his ankles. He didn't want to open his eyes, certain that he was in hell. But there was no heat or fire like all the stories he'd heard.
Was he even dead? Something hit his ribs, hard, and that answered his question. He was alive and he wasn't hallucinating.
"Wake up you bas—"
Thwack!
A grunt as the man who had hit Teetee landed on the floor. Teetee hadn't opened his eyes yet, still committed to pretending he was unconscious.
"I told all of you to be gentle. I didn't know I housed idiots."
Familiarity tugged at Teetee's consciousness. Certain he had heard this voice before. It felt like a soft, calm lullaby and he longed to hear it once more. To hear it for the rest of his life.
But instead he heard the crack of bones and grunt of pain. He opened his eyes to the back of a man in black. He sat on top of another man twice as big but his fist told of his strength.
Blood splattered on the floor; on the angry man and all Teetee could do was watch. He was surrounded by other burly men but their eyes were trained on the beating.
He was grateful for the cover and wriggled his wrists to see if it was loose. He hoped his kidnappers were as stupid as the ones on television. The noise was supposed to act as a cover but at the moment he tried to move the angry man froze.
Teetee cursed under his breath. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
"Take care of him," the man said as he rose from the stiff body. He threw his head back and took a deep breath while Teetee tried to calm his racing heart. What the hell was wrong with him?
Fear. He could feel the familiar cold fingers of fear wrapping around his heart, squeezing it faster and faster.
The man turned around then broke into a smile upon seeing Teetee's stunned expression.
Target. The lean looking man. The famous, beautiful, lean looking man who he was paid to kill.
"Why—"
"You look surprised." His target tilted his head, "Or scared."
"I am not scared," Teetee said even though he knew it wasn't true. The chills he felt on the roof of the building came crawling back on his skin. And he shivered.
He chose to ignore the fact that he may have shivered for another reason, the chains biting into his wrists.
"Why did you kidnap me?" Teetee asked.
His target leaned closer, his dark eyes looking like tempting abysses that he could dive into. Teetee couldn't understand why he was so captivated by the man's eyes. They had no shine or life in them; they were cold.
"You're cute." A warm smile split on his target's face and Teetee's heart sank. There was nothing warm about that smile. What the hell was wrong with him?
"That wasn't what I asked."
"I like you," said the man in a monotone voice.
"You what?" Great. He'd been kidnapped by a psycho.
"I like you." He tilted his head again, strands of his hair falling over his eyes, "Do you have trouble hearing?"
"What? No, you psycho!"
"Psycho?"
Teetee could have sworn the man looked hurt but he didn't let himself care. He should be the one looking hurt for fuck's sake. "You're not making sense."
The man frowned. "What don't you understand? I thought I was clear enough."
"What I don't understand is the fact that you kidnapped me just because you like me. No one in their right mind kidnaps the person they like and this—" He struggled against the chains and shackles on his ankles "—is not a pleasant way to say hi."
Again, the man looked confused. He dropped down in a squat, resting his hand on his chin. "I always take what I want. And I want you."
Teetee felt like he was talking to a brick wall. "You have to be fucking kidding me." He sighed in exasperation then looked up at the ceiling, trying to find a way out of this situation
"If it's a one-night stand you want then fine. But you didn't have to kidnap me." He looked back down and into those beautiful eyes of the abyss.
"All you had to do was ask."
"Ask?" The word sounded foreign in his target's mouth. He shrugged, never taking his gaze off Teetee. "I don't ask. I order. Or command. Or whatever synonym replaces those words but I never ask."
Teetee scoffed. The sheer arrogance made him want to gag. "Then what? Do you want me to beg for you to fuck me so I can go home?"
The target's eyes softened. "That is not what I want at all."
"Then what do you want? My head? Or is it the head of my boss? Because I know nothing that will help you." That was half-true. Did he know the passcode to Rowyn's office? No. But did he know every target, secret and weakness of the organization? Sure.
The target rose and sighed deeply. He dragged his hand over his handsome face in exasperation and ruffled his hair. "This is harder than I thought," he murmured.
He turned back to Teetee on the chair, his brown hair falling in strands over his perfect face.
"Let's get to know eachother."
"You really are a fucking psycho."
The target ignored him. "I am Por, and I want to court you."
Teetee suddenly realised he had never addressed his target by name. Out loud or in his head.
And now he had to acknowledge that the man standing before him was Por Suppakarn Jirachotikul. Thailand's most famous actor, a CEO and the leader of one of the biggest underground gang in Asia.
Shit.