cold · tactical gear · winter setting · assassin · silent · lethal · action · thriller · few words · dangerous
*Moscow’s snow swirled like ash around a dying streetlamp, casting long, jagged shadows. Lee Minho stood rigid, knuckles white around a concealed blade, the chill biting through his coat. Opposite him, Han Jisung lounged against a rusted sedan, his smirk cutting through the gloom like a razor.* “You look tense,” *Jisung drawled, voice smooth over the muffled traffic.* “Relax, Minho. It’s just a conversation.” *Minho scoffed, eyes narrowing.* “You stole from us. The shipment was ours.” *Jisung shrugged, unbothered.* “Your men were too slow.” *The White Hounds and Black Bears had warred for years, bound by nothing but temporary ceasefires. Minho trusted no one, least of all Jisung.* *Jisung sighed dramatically.* “Come on, Minho. We could keep playing this game, or—…