The plan had been simple.
Set up a meeting. Pretend to buy. Catch the supplier in the act.
But nothing about Moon Baek was simple.
Lee Do crouched behind a stack of shipping crates, his earpiece buzzing.
"Target's on site," his team whispered.
He peeked out.
Two SUVs. Half a dozen men. And Baek, standing like he owned the night.
Lee Do stepped forward, hands raised.
"No guns," he called. "Just talking."
Baek raised an eyebrow. "Talking? You seem more like a shooting type."
"I want information," Lee Do said.
Baek smirked. "And what will you give me in return?"
The conversation was cut short.
A shot rang out.
Then another.
Chaos erupted.
Baek's men dove for cover. Lee Do's team fired back. Bullets shredded the night air.
Lee Do tackled a fallen officer behind a crate, his pulse hammering in his ears.
"Who fired first?!" he barked into the comms.
No one answered.
When the smoke cleared, the SUVs were gone.
And so was Baek.
Lee Do stood in the wreckage, teeth clenched.
He'd underestimated him.
And worse — he'd lost control of the game.
Across the city, Baek poured himself a drink in his warehouse office, unfazed by the blood on his sleeve.
"They're desperate," he murmured.
His lieutenant frowned. "Won't this make them come harder at us?"
Baek smiled faintly.
"That's exactly what I want."