Rebecca crouched low, her hands gently wrapping around Joey's trembling, sweaty palms. Their eyes met Joeys' wide and uncertain, darting around like a cornered animal. Fear clung to her face like a second skin, impossible to miss.
"The only one who could've seen through our disguise is gone," Rebecca whispered, her tone steady and reassuring now.
"And those bulky men outside? They're nothing but muscle. As long as they don't get a good look at your face, they won't notice the difference."
Her thumbs rubbed slow circles over Joey's knuckles. "This task isn't as dangerous as you think," she added, watching the tension in Joey's jaw. "If I thought for one second you couldn't handle it, I would've never asked you."
Joey hesitated. "But~"
Rebecca leaned in slightly, her voice firmer. "All you have to do is make it into the underground club at Longrich Hotel. Get changed, follow the exit routes I mapped out, and everything will go according to plan. You'll be out, safe, and free before anyone catches on."
She paused, searching Joey's eyes. "I've done this... more times than I can count. Not once have I failed. Follow my instructions to the letter, and you'll be fine."
Joey blinked. Her brows pulled together. "You've done this many times?"
The suspicion in her voice was impossible to miss. Her eyes narrowed, gaze scanning Rebecca's face for answer. "What exactly is your identity...?"
Rebecca's stomach twisted at the question. She looked away, then stood abruptly, brushing invisible dust from her pants. "The hour is at hand. Let's go," she said quickly, dodging the question as she strode toward the main salon.
Joey followed a moment later, now dressed in Rebecca's clothes, hair styled the same, even mimicking her subtle, purposeful stride. She moved across the tiled floor with care.
Rebecca, now disguised in Joey's uniform, pushed a vacuum slowly across the tiles, eyes flicking discreetly toward the front windows.
"See ya tomorrow," Joey called casually, waving as she passed Rebecca.
Rebecca didn't look up. Instead, she whispered just loud enough, "Keep your head slightly lowered. That's how they won't tell the difference."
Joey gave a slight nod, then walked steadily toward the glass exit.
Across the street, four men dressed in black crouched in the shadows, watching.
"Didn't the boss say he wanted to see her exactly where he left her?" Palmer, the smallest of the group, muttered under his breath. "Is it okay to let her just walk out like that?"
"He did," Zion replied without turning. He was the one in charge; muscular, calm, and sharp-eyed. "But he also didn't say we could use force. You've got a better idea for keeping her here without grabbing her?"
Palmer fell silent knowing too well that wasn't possible.
"I heard she's stubborn," Ayer, the tallest murmured, barely moving his lips. "The kind of woman you don't want to push."
Zion exhaled through his nose. "Then we tail her. No gaps. Not for a second."
He made a subtle hand signal, and three of the men peeled off into position.
One man, however, stayed behind as ordered. From her position inside, Rebecca spotted their formation, three leaving, one staying.
She smiled faintly, eyes flicking toward the glass door. "Thinking you can outwit me?" she whispered under her breath. "You've got to learn from the best if you want to stand a chance."
Then she turned back to vacuuming, pretending to be Joey, knowing full well the real Joey was now walking straight into the lion's den with all eyes on her.
…
On a crowded street lit by flickering neon signs and traffic lights, Joey walked fast, her breaths coming in shallow bursts. Her hands clenched around her handbag, knuckles white with pressure. Her borrowed heels clicked against the pavement, but she didn't dare look back.
'Don't look back. Keep your head down. Keep moving. The moment they notice you acting suspicious, it's game over,'
Rebecca's warning looped in her head like a spell causing her heart to pound harder.
'God... if I make it through this alive, I swear I'll change. I'll live right from now on', she prayed silently, her lips barely moving.
She reached the sidewalk, raised a trembling hand, and waved down a cab.
Across the street, Palmer cursed under his breath. "Why the hell is she suddenly taking a cab?"
"Get the plate number. Now," Zion snapped, eyes narrowing as Joey climbed in.
They watched helplessly as the taxi pulled away. No other cab in sight.
"We're dead men if we lose her," Ayer muttered, voicing what the others were too afraid to admit.
Zion's jaw clenched. His hand slid into his inner coat, brushing the handle of his pistol just as headlights swept toward them.
An empty cab.
"Move!" he barked.
The three of them rushed in, slamming doors like desperate students late for an exam.
"Can't you go faster than this?" Palmer growled at the driver, who was already speeding through the street.
The driver flinched but said nothing. His eyes dropped briefly to Zion's exposed wrist, there, inked clearly was the symbol of the lion. The driver's stomach twisted. He knew better than to ask questions.
He stepped on the gas.
Within minutes, Zion spotted Joey's cab a few cars ahead.
"There," he muttered, nodding. "That's her."
Ayer let out a long breath, finally relaxing back into the seat. "Damn... that was close."