The city above pulsed with neon and noise, but down here, in the narrow arteries that ran beneath Seoul's glittering skin, the world felt cold and tight. Lin moved with the precision of someone who had memorized the map of every shadow. The scout's wrists were bound with a length of wire Keller had stripped from a busted light fixture, and each time he struggled, the metal bit deeper into his skin.
"Move," Keller growled, shoving the man forward with the barrel of his gun pressed against his back. "One more wrong step, and you'll be painting the wall."
The scout spat blood onto the cracked pavement. Even beaten and bruised, he carried himself with an edge of arrogance. His eyes flicked between them, sharp and calculating. He was no ordinary runner; Jin had chosen him for a reason.
