The first guard never finished raising his weapon.
Lian closed the distance in a blur of controlled motion. Her hand struck his wrist, hard enough to snap his aim wide. The gun fired once into the ceiling. The sound cracked through the small office.
Kai hissed in her ear. “That’s going to wake the whole floor.”
“Working on it,” she said.
Lian pivoted, driving her elbow into the guard’s throat. The man choked, stumbling backward into the doorframe. She followed through, sweeping his legs out from under him and slamming him to the ground.
He stayed down.
The second guard reacted faster.
He fired twice.
The shots punched into the wall where Lian had been half a second earlier. She dropped low, sliding across the concrete and kicking the man’s knee sideways.
Something popped.
The guard cursed and staggered, but he didn’t fall. He swung the pistol down toward her.
Kai’s voice sharpened. “Left!”
Lian rolled just as the shot went off. The bullet chewed into the floor inches from her shoulder.
She came up inside the man’s reach.
One sharp strike to the ribs.
Another to the jaw.
The guard crumpled against the metal cabinet, weapon clattering away across the floor.
Silence rushed back into the room, thick and tense.
Lian stood still for half a breath, listening.
No immediate reinforcements.
Not yet.
Kai exhaled slowly. “Okay. That was louder than I’d like.”
“They’re breathing,” Lian said, glancing briefly at the two guards.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
Behind the desk, Chen Wei Lun had not moved.
That was the first thing Lian noticed.
Most men panicked when violence got that close.
Chen simply watched her.
Calm.
Measuring.
Too composed.
Lian stepped toward the desk again.
“You should have run,” she said.
Chen folded his hands loosely.
“And miss the opportunity to understand who you are?”
Kai muttered, “I don’t like this guy.”
“Noted,” Lian said quietly.
Chen’s gaze flicked once toward the unconscious guards, then back to her.
“You move like trained military,” he said. “But your entry was too personal for a contract hit.”
Lian didn’t respond.
Chen leaned back slightly.
“You’re connected to the doctor,” he continued.
Something cold tightened in Lian’s chest.
Kai heard it in her silence.
“Lian,” he warned softly.
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Her voice stayed even. “You talk too much.”
Chen gave a small, knowing smile.
“People usually say that right before they ask me something important.”
Lian reached across the desk and planted her palm flat on the surface, leaning in just enough to crowd his space.
“Start with the shipments,” she said.
Chen’s eyes held hers.
“You already know they’re medical.”
“What’s in them.”
“Treatment compounds.”
Her gaze hardened.
“Try again.”
For the first time, Chen’s smile faded a fraction.
Kai’s voice cut in quietly. “Movement in the hallway. Not close yet, but this window is shrinking.”
Lian didn’t break eye contact.
Chen studied her for another long second, then sighed softly, like a man conceding a small point.
“You really don’t know the full picture,” he said.
“Explain it.”
Chen tapped one finger lightly against the desk.
“The batches are modified immunotherapy carriers,” he said. “Slow release. Difficult to trace. Very elegant work.”
Kai went very still on the line.
“Immunotherapy,” he repeated under his breath.
Lian’s expression did not change.
“Side effects,” she said.
Chen’s lips curved faintly again.
“There are always side effects.”
Her hand slammed down on the desk hard enough to rattle the metal.
“Details.”
Chen’s eyes sharpened.
For the first time, he seemed to reassess her.
“Heightened inflammatory response in a small percentage of recipients,” he said. “Most cases present as unexplained systemic failure.”
Kai swore quietly.
“Patients are dying,” Lian said.
Chen tilted his head.
“Some.”
The word hung in the air.
Cold.
Careless.
Lian’s voice dropped lower.
“Why.”
Chen’s gaze didn’t waver.
“Because the data is valuable.”
Kai’s breathing went tight in her ear. “Lian…”
But she was already focused.
“Who’s collecting it.”
Chen smiled faintly.
“You already know the answer to that too.”
The office felt smaller.
Hotter.
Lian’s jaw tightened.
“Say his name.”
Chen studied her face one more time.
Then he spoke calmly.
“The doctor is leading the clinical side.”
Silence pressed down hard.
Kai finally broke it, voice tight. “We need to move. Hallway traffic just spiked.”
Lian straightened slowly.
Her mind was already shifting gears.
Information gathered.
Time to leave.
Chen watched her carefully.
“You’re not going to kill me,” he said quietly.
It wasn’t a question.
Lian met his eyes.
“No,” she said.
Relief flickered across his face for just a fraction of a second.
Then Lian reached forward and drove two precise fingers into the nerve cluster at the side of his neck.
Chen’s body went rigid.
His eyes widened in shock.
Then he slumped sideways in the chair, unconscious.
Kai let out a breath. “Remind me never to play poker with you.”
Lian was already moving.
She grabbed Chen’s phone from the floor and slid it into her pocket.
“Camera loop is about to break,” Kai warned. “You’ve got maybe twenty seconds before someone notices the freeze.”
“Exit route.”
“Same hallway. Stairwell on your right. I’ve unlocked it.”
Lian crossed the room quickly, pausing only long enough to kick both guards’ weapons farther out of reach.
Then she slipped into the corridor.
The warehouse was louder now.
Voices in the distance.
Footsteps.
Not alerted yet, but the calm was cracking.
Kai’s tone sharpened. “Two workers coming from the far end. They don’t look armed.”
“I see them.”
Lian adjusted her pace, shifting into the natural stride of someone who belonged there.
The workers barely glanced at her as they passed.
One nodded absently.
She nodded back.
Kept walking.
Only when she reached the stairwell door did Kai finally exhale.
“Okay. That was clean enough.”
Lian pushed the door open and started down the concrete steps.
“Not clean,” she said.
Kai was quiet for a moment.
“Yeah,” he admitted softly. “Not clean.”
Her voice stayed steady.
“We confirm everything on the phone.”
“I’m already digging.”
They descended another flight in silence.
Then Kai spoke again, quieter now.
“Lian.”
“Yes.”
A pause.
Then, carefully, “If he’s really running clinical trials like this…”
Lian didn’t slow.
“I know.”
The stairwell door at the bottom came into view.
Beyond it waited the cold Hong Kong night.
And work that was getting uglier by the hour.
