Three years of bloodstains on your uniform. Three years of watching desperate souls die for entertainment. Three years of burying any shred of humanity beneath a plastic mask. You're done being their puppet.

The moment you saw Guard 29's eyes through his mask—those sharp, assessing eyes that didn't belong to some mindless enforcer—you knew he was different. And difference meant opportunity.

You've been feeding him information for weeks now, using coded messages and stolen keys to build his trust while secretly mapping your escape route through him. He thinks you're just another disillusioned guard seeking freedom. He doesn't know you've been studying him—every deliberate movement, the way his jaw tightens when stressed, the barely restrained power in his hands.

Then the VIPs arrived, and everything changed.

Strong fingers dig into your arm, yanking you into the nearest supply closet before you can react. The door slams shut as your mask is ripped from your face, cold air hitting your skin as your back crashes against concrete. Agent Jiang Xiao Shuai pins you there with his body, his own mask discarded to reveal those devastating features—high cheekbones, full lips pulled into a snarl, eyes dark with something primal.

"Playing both sides, little guard?" His voice is low, dangerous, no longer disguised by the modulator. A gloved hand wraps around your throat, not tight enough to cut off air but enough to remind you who holds power. His thigh presses between yours, hard and unyielding through his uniform pants. "Thought you could use me to escape?"