Darkness hit like a pulse.
One blink, and the penthouse lights vanished — glass, gold, and shadow blending into one endless void. Jin's breath stilled. His hand was already on the gun before thought caught up. The sound that followed wasn't silence. It was movement.
Soft. Careful. Someone inside.
He didn't call Elias's name. A word could get them both killed. Instead, he reached out with instinct — the kind that had been beaten, drilled, and sharpened into him until reaction became language.
A flick of motion — the faint reflection of the city glow bouncing off the glass.
Elias. Standing near the window. Still. Exposed.
Jin's pulse snapped. He moved. Two quick steps, silent. One hand reached, gripping Elias's arm, dragging him backward just as a sound cracked through the dark — a low, clean pop.
Glass splintered.
The bullet hit the window where Elias had stood a heartbeat ago.
Elias didn't resist the pull — not right away. He only stumbled once before steadying, his breath sharp. "Basement access?" he murmured.
"Locked. I'll check the west exit," Jin said. His tone was even, but inside, he could feel the fine edge of adrenaline threading through every nerve.
Another sound. Boots. Close.
Whoever it was — they were inside already.
Jin caught the reflection of a figure moving along the far hallway — faint outline, tall, armed. Professional. That ruled out petty thieves.
He crouched slightly, shoulder brushing Elias's as he moved them toward cover. The warmth of the older man's presence pressed too close — heat against his arm, scent of smoke and cologne sharp in his lungs — but Jin forced his focus back to the hallway.
He had one job. One focus. Protect him.
The intruder stepped closer. Metal scraped. A suppressed weapon.
Jin's finger tightened around the trigger. He didn't shoot. Not yet. He waited — counted the seconds — until the figure's shadow aligned just enough with the dim light leaking from the city outside.
Then he moved.
A single step, aim, shot.
The sound was muted, efficient. A grunt. Then silence.
Elias barely flinched. "One?" he asked.
"Maybe two more," Jin said. He didn't lower the weapon. "Stay behind the wall. Don't move unless I tell you."
Elias's jaw flexed. He wasn't used to orders. But he nodded once.
The second man came fast — through the broken window this time, glass crunching beneath his boots. Jin turned, firing low. The shot caught the man's knee, sending him down with a hiss of pain.
Before he could reach for his weapon, Jin closed the distance — one kick to the wrist, another to the chest. The man hit the floor. Hard.
The silence that followed wasn't peace. It was breath. Heavy, close, human.
Jin stood still for a moment, gun raised, waiting for any hint of more movement. When there was none, he exhaled — just once — and turned back toward Elias.
The CEO was leaning against the wall, sleeves rolled to his elbows, expression calm but unreadable. The calm of a man who had seen this before. Too many times.
"You good?" Jin asked quietly.
Elias gave a small nod. "You're fast."
Jin shrugged, checking the weapon. "Comes with the job."
"That's not what I meant."
He looked up. Elias's eyes met his — cool gray, but softer now, touched by something he couldn't name. Recognition, maybe. Gratitude that didn't know how to speak.
Jin looked away first.
---
The power flickered back to life fifteen minutes later. Security alarms blared, late and useless. The backup team arrived, sweeping through the penthouse, bodies moving in sharp efficiency.
Jin said little. He stood near the glass, watching the blood dry on marble, the city stretching endlessly below.
Elias spoke to the head of security in short, clipped sentences. When it was done, the others left, and quiet returned — the kind of quiet that settled after a storm, not before one.
Jin holstered his weapon. "They knew the layout," he said simply.
Elias nodded. "Someone leaked it."
"Inside?"
Elias didn't answer. His gaze lingered on the shattered window. "Everyone has a price. But not everyone understands what they're selling until it's too late."
Something about his tone made Jin look at him – really look. There was no fear in him. Just tiredness, the kind that didn't show in wrinkles but in the stillness of the eyes.
"You've done this before," Jin said quietly.
Elias smirked. "You say that like I'm proud of it."
"You survived."
"Surviving isn't the same as living."
The words fell between them, unguarded. For a moment, Jin almost forgot to keep his distance. Almost.
He looked away, scanning the window again. The skyline gleamed cold and endless. Neon reflected on the shards scattered across the floor. It looked like a broken crown — a fitting image for the man who owned everything but peace.
---
When the clock hit two a.m., Elias finally sat down. He hadn't since the attack. Jin stood near the window, back to him, keeping watch.
"You can leave," Elias said after a while. "You've done enough for one night."
"I don't leave until sunrise."
"I'll manage."
"I know." Jin's tone was quiet, unreadable. "That's not the point."
Elias looked up from his desk. "Then what is?"
Jin hesitated. His hand twitched once, like he wanted to say something he shouldn't. Then he said instead, "You should rest."
Elias laughed — low, tired, soft. "Do you?"
"No."
"Then don't tell me to."
It should've ended there, but it didn't. Elias's voice softened, almost unconsciously. "You remind me of someone," he said. "Someone who used to guard me the same way. Too serious. Too silent."
"What happened to him?" Jin asked.
Elias's smile didn't reach his eyes. "He died for someone who wasn't worth it."
Jin's jaw tightened. He looked at him for a moment — not as a client, but as a man who carried too much. Then he said, "You think everyone dies for nothing?"
Elias's gaze met his. "No," he said. "Only the ones who care."
The words hit harder than Jin expected. He didn't reply.
Instead, he walked to the small table near the window, checking the broken glass one last time. His boots crunched quietly.
Elias stood and joined him there — close enough for their reflections to blur together in the glass.
Outside, the first trace of dawn began to edge against the skyline — pale light washing through the cracks.
"You should get that wound looked at," Elias said suddenly.
Jin blinked. "What wound?"
Elias nodded toward his forearm. The fabric of his sleeve was torn, blood faint but visible. Jin hadn't noticed.
"It's nothing," he said.
"Humor me."
Elias reached out — slow, careful. He wasn't supposed to. Neither of them were. His hand brushed Jin's wrist, steady, grounding. The touch wasn't commanding. It was… human.
Jin didn't pull away. But he didn't move closer either.
For a moment, the world was just quiet. Two men, two shadows, glass between them and the city they both refused to trust.
Then the phone on the desk buzzed again — sharp, sudden.
Elias turned away, breaking the air that had begun to thicken. He walked back to the desk, picked up the phone, read the message once. His eyes narrowed.
Jin couldn't see what it said. But the tension in Elias's shoulders changed — not fear. Something colder.
He didn't speak for a long moment. When he finally did, his voice was quieter than before.
"Looks like we have another problem."
Jin's fingers brushed the gun again. "What kind?"
Elias's eyes lifted, and for the first time that night, something faint — like hesitation — passed through them.
He turned the screen toward Jin.
The message was simple.
Five words.
> We know who he is.
The phone dimmed, the light fading between them. Jin's reflection caught the edge of Elias's — two figures standing side by side, both still, both too used to danger.
Neither spoke again.
Outside, the city shifted, waking slowly under the thin light of morning.
And somewhere deep inside that silence, Jin realized — he wasn't sure anymore who he was supposed to protect.