Yancheng. The Auga Club.

The lights were a total fever dream, flashing wild and weird with the bass pounding hard enough to shake your bones. Strange colors spilled across the room, painting the faces of the men and women on the dance floor with that half-drunk, half-lost look, like everyone was drowning in the music and loving it.

No one noticed the slim black figure slipping through the crowd.

She moved light and easy, almost like she was floating. The smile at the corner of her lips was flawless, the kind that could mess with anyone’s head in a second.

Third floor. The far-left private room, tucked away in the quietest corner.

Vivienne Ashford glanced at the woman in the mirror—black fitted top, black fitted pants, every clean line of her figure wrapped up nice and sharp—and clicked her tongue in admiration. "Damn, born gorgeous. Whoever ends up marrying me is basically hitting the jackpot."

After admiring herself for one more second, she finally tore herself away from the mirror, clearly reluctant, then moved fast. A black wire, thin as a strand of hair, slipped neatly around the window frame under her fingers. She flipped out through the window and slid down along it in one smooth motion.

She hung upside down outside a second-floor private room like a spider on a thread.

Behind the special mask, her eyes were cold and razor-sharp. The second she confirmed the identities of the two men inside, she drew the pistol from her waist without a hint of hesitation.

"Bang!"

"Bang!"

Two muffled shots cracked through the noise.

One man dropped dead on the spot.

The other took a bullet through the arm. Blood sprayed out, and he let out a raw, pained scream.

"Damn it!" She’d missed the kill shot.

But there was no time to dwell on it. Vivienne put the gun away at once, pushed off with a sharp leap, and vanished into the night as lightly as a cat.

By the time the bodyguards outside the room heard the shots and rushed in, all they caught was the blur of a strange masked figure flashing past the window.

"Call an ambulance! The rest of you, go after them!"

Vivienne’s retreat was fast—crazy fast—but the people chasing her were no pushovers either. Every last one of them was a specially trained bodyguard. If she wanted to shake them off quickly, she needed help.

Temporary help, obviously.

"Don’t move!"

At the mouth of a dim alley, inside an unremarkable black sedan, Vivienne was pressing a sharp little dagger against the neck of the man in the back seat.

She still had the mask on, covering everything above her lips. She was wrapped up tight from head to toe, dressed so neatly and completely that not even her neck was exposed. The only visible parts of her face were her delicate chin and lips painted in a rich chocolate shade.

The man with the knife at his throat was also dressed all in black. At night, he even had on a pair of sunglasses. Even with Vivienne Ashford threatening him, he didn’t show a shred of fear or panic. Through those dark lenses, he stared hard at the woman who had suddenly barged into his car, his voice low and heavy. "What do you want?"

Vivienne had seen all kinds of people. One look at the aura around him, and she knew this guy was no soft target. And on top of that, there was the smell she knew best—the thick metallic tang of blood. Pretty obvious he was hurt.

A bad feeling rose in her chest out of nowhere. The random "helper" she’d grabbed tonight might actually be a huge problem. But things were already going sideways fast, and there was no time to jump out and find another hostage.

"Move! Hurry up!"

The bodyguard captain’s voice came from outside.

Vivienne’s sharp eyes flicked toward the car window. Then she suddenly leaned forward, closing the gap between them to barely a palm’s width. Her voice, deliberately roughened and hoarse, slipped into his ear. "How about we make a deal?"

The man had already figured out those people outside were after her. He lowered his eyes to the dagger pressed against his neck, then glanced at her sideways. "And what makes you think I’d say yes?"

"Your injury."

Vivienne looked down at his abdomen. Even though the inside of the car was dim, she still spotted it at once—his stomach was wounded, and it was still bleeding.

The smell of blood inside the car was so strong it was almost choking. She was sure he wasn’t lightly hurt, so she went on, "Those people outside are chasing me. I’m guessing your enemies are nearby too. We work together once, shake all of them off in one go. Sound good?"

"And what makes you think I need your help to get rid of my enemies?"

His tone stayed icy. His sharp gaze landed on the pattern of her mask, his mind clearly piecing something together bit by bit.

"Maybe you can ditch your enemies on your own. But right now you’re with me. That makes us tied to the same rope. My enemies become your enemies too. Can you shake off both sides at once?"

Vivienne didn’t feel the least bit guilty about how shameless that sounded. Even while threatening him, she stayed completely calm.

"Heh." The man let out a sudden cold laugh. "Making a deal with a tiger is no different from drinking poison to quench your thirst."

Vivienne didn’t care at all that he was comparing her to a man-eating beast. The cold blade stayed pressed to his neck as the corner of her mouth lifted in a cocky, rogue-like curve. "At this point, other than teaming up with the tiger, do you have any better option?"

"Whether I do or not, we’ll know after I try."

The second he finished speaking, the hands resting at his sides moved without warning. His right hand struck hard at her wrist.

Vivienne reacted fast—crazy fast—but she was still half a beat slower than him. Her wrist went numb from the hit, and the dagger slipped from her hand.

Before she could make her next move, his powerful hand had already locked around her wrist. Vivienne instantly threw a punch with her other hand, but that got caught by his other hand too. He yanked her forward, and before she could steady herself, her upper body pitched straight onto him. Their bodies slammed tight together, no space left between them.

The soft curve unique to a woman pressed against his chest, and that clean, faint scent slipped straight into his nose. It made his usually steady, tightly controlled heart give a sudden jolt.

The man just stared at the woman who had barged in and thrown his mind completely off balance.

"Let go of me!" Vivienne Ashford snapped in a low voice.

Her tone was ice-cold. The man abruptly came back to himself, and his hands loosened around her almost on instinct.

The second she was free, Vivienne threw herself backward. Her sharp, frosty gaze swept over this seriously capable man, and her gloved fists flew at him without the slightest hesitation.

His reaction speed was crazy fast. He lifted both fists at once and struck back.

Bang!

Both punches landed with full force. The impact shoved them apart, and each of them staggered back hard into the car doors.

Feeling their hands tremble from the blow, they nearly looked at each other in disbelief at the exact same time. Their eyes met for less than a second, then, with a weird unspoken understanding, both charged forward and started going at each other again.

Bang... bang...

"Ugh..."

Inside the car, the two of them fought like mortal enemies in that cramped little space, trading vicious blows. The thud of fists and muffled groans kept coming one after another. The noise got so loud that the bodyguard captain and the others chasing them all gathered around the car.

Seeing the whole sedan rocking up and down, and hearing a man's and woman's low growls and suppressed cries coming from inside, the bodyguard captain's face went dark. He shouted at the car, "Could you two not spend a couple hundred and get a hotel room?"

Vivienne, who had just taken a punch, instantly got what he meant. Her pretty face flushed red from sheer rage on the spot. While still throwing punches at the man, she yelled back, "We like it this way. Got a problem with that?"

The man had just had the wound in his abdomen kicked by her, and the pain had him baring his teeth. Hearing her deliberately answer like that, he was so pissed he practically wanted to strangle her. A wave of icy menace burst right out of him.

The light inside the car was dim, and Vivienne didn't catch his expression. Taking advantage of his distraction, she lunged again and pinned him down. She dropped onto his legs in one smooth move, grabbed his throat with her fingers, and threatened him in a very low voice.

"If we keep fighting, neither of us wins. The people outside are all the real deal, the kind who live with a blade at their throat. If we fall into their hands, we're both dead."

The man was already injured to begin with. After those few rounds with her, the wound had split open again. He could clearly feel blood soaking through his clothes and pants. If this kept up, he'd lose too much blood. At this rate, he really might go down here.

Still, the second he thought about being threatened by this woman today, irritation surged through his whole chest.

Then he looked at her again, sitting right on his lap, all bold and careless about it. For some reason, an odd mix of anger and embarrassment rose in him, and he growled at her, "Get off."

His presence was fierce enough to shake people, and even a fearless woman like Vivienne Ashford froze for a beat. But she recovered in less than a second.

Then she noticed the way she was sitting. She quickly let go of his neck and slid off him neatly, but she still couldn't resist throwing out a jab. "It's just your legs. It's not like I took advantage of you."

She ignored the man's dark expression and calmly sat down in the seat beside him like nothing had happened. Outside, the people at the mouth of the alley gathered together, said something she couldn't make out, and then all turned back the way they came, heading toward the club.