Page 90 of Sweet Nightmare

“And if you paid attention during the drive here, you’d know the nearest city is hours away.”

I did pay attention. I know that.

Still, I need to leave.

“And I don’t know the security situation yet.”

There it is.

The bodyguard answer.

Mika never makes emotional arguments. She sticks to practical ones, which is incredibly annoying because practical Mika is almost impossible to argue with. “I’ll assess everything in the morning,” she says. “Then we’ll decide.”

I cross my arms and Mika crosses hers, too.

A clear standoff.

One I’m unfortunately losing because she’s right.

Leaving in the middle of the night would be stupid.

I’m many things, but stupid isn’t one of them.

A badly planned collaboration? I can handle that.

A romantic setup orchestrated by my mother and Stevie?

Absolutely not.

I hate games, and I would never have agreed to this trip if I’d known their real intentions.

Before I can voice another complaint, a door slams somewhere behind us. The sound echoes through the entrance, making everyone turn.

Even Minho, who suddenly looks far less comfortable and judging by his expression, he knows exactly who’s just arrived.

Heavy footsteps approach us and with every step, an unfamiliar tension settles in my chest. My stomach twists, and my attention shifts toward the doorway.

I don’t recognize the feeling.

It’s not fear.

No. It’s something else.

Then a man appears and my breath catches in my throat.

He’s tall, tattooed, and dressed like someone dragged him out of bed and informed him that dress codes were a personal choice. A red hoodie covers most of his head, snow dusting his shoulders. Dark tattoos cover his thick fingers before disappearing beneath his sleeves.

I watch as he reaches up and pulls back his hood revealing black-and-white hair.

Then I see his eyes.

Sharp.

Annoyed.

I know this man. Everyone knows him. From South Korea to the farthest corners of the world, his name is practically unavoidable.

Khaos.