034 Night Shift Hustle - Part 4 - Mark’s POV

  Fifteen minutes ter, Mirai and I were sitting in the backseat of a sleek bck car. The interior smelled like leather and disinfectant. The engine purred softly beneath us, a low, steady hum. Cox sat in the driver’s seat, hands resting on the wheel like he was already bored.

  Mirai stared out the window, her brow furrowing. “What is she doing?”

  I gnced toward the window.

  Outside, Shirley was crouched near the store’s entrance. She had several rge pstic containers lined up beside her—industrial-sized gallons of gasoline. With practiced efficiency, she unscrewed the cap of one and started pouring it over the threshold. The sharp, chemical scent of gas hit me even through the closed window.

  “What the hell?” I muttered.

  Mirai’s eyes widened. She fumbled for the door handle and tugged. It didn’t budge.

  “What—” Mirai yanked harder. “It’s locked!”

  I tried my own handle. Nothing.

  Mirai twisted toward Cox, her face pale. “What is she doing?! She’s—she’s gonna burn the store down!”

  Cox didn’t even look at her.

  Mirai’s voice sharpened. “You can’t—! The owner’s a nice guy! He—he’s always been good to us! He’s going to be devastated!”

  Cox remained silent.

  I stared at the gasoline sloshing across the pavement, soaking into the cracks. Shirley reached for a second container. She was thorough—covering every corner, every edge.

  My jaw tightened.

  I flipped my butterfly knife open. The bde caught the dim light of the car’s ceiling.

  Click.

  Cox’s eyes shifted toward me in the rearview mirror.

  “Unlock the door,” I said.

  Cox’s mouth curled faintly. “No.”

  I leaned forward, pressing the knife against the side of his neck.

  “I said,” I repeated, “unlock the door.”

  A thin line of blood welled up beneath the bde.

  Cox’s smirk didn’t fade.

  “You don’t have the guts,” he said.

  My hand didn’t waver.

  Cox’s expression darkened. “I know what your mother’s like. I know how far she’d go for you. But you?” His voice lowered. “You’ve never killed anyone before.”

  I pressed the bde harder. The line of blood widened.

  Cox chuckled. “Go ahead. Prove me wrong.”

  I gritted my teeth.

  “Mark!”

  Mirai’s hand closed over my wrist. Her fingers trembled against my skin.

  “Stop,” she whispered. “Please.”

  Her eyes were wide—pleading.

  I hesitated.

  Cox smiled faintly. “Thought so.”

  I inhaled sharply through my nose and pulled the knife away. Cox wiped his neck with his sleeve, smearing the blood across the fabric.

  “Cute,” he said. “But you’re not like her.”

  I flipped the knife closed with a sharp click and shoved it back into my pocket. My hands were shaking. I clenched them into fists.

  Mirai gnced toward the window. Shirley had finished pouring the gasoline. She straightened and pulled a silver lighter from her pocket.

  “Wait—no!” Mirai pressed her hands against the gss. “You can’t—!”

  Shirley’s face remained impassive. She flicked the lighter open.

  A tiny fme sparked to life.

  “She wouldn’t—” Mirai gasped.

  I gritted my teeth.

  She would.

  The lighter dropped from Shirley’s hand.

  Fire erupted across the ground. The gasoline ignited instantly, a wall of fmes racing up the side of the store. Smoke coiled into the night sky.

  Mirai pressed both hands to her mouth, her eyes wide.

  “She—she’s burning it down,” she whispered.

  Cox’s eyes were cold in the rearview mirror. “No loose ends.”

  My jaw tightened.

  The owner had nothing to do with this. He was a good guy. He’d given me the job when I needed it—never asked questions, never gave me trouble. He didn’t deserve this.

  But I already knew how this worked.

  I exhaled slowly.

  “You’re cleaning up the scene,” I said.

  Cox smiled faintly. “You catch on quick.”

  Mirai’s hands curled into fists. “But this isn’t right!”

  “Was it right when the assassin tried to kill you?” Cox’s tone sharpened. “Or would you have preferred to die in a tidy, undamaged store?”

  Mirai’s mouth snapped shut.

  I leaned back in my seat. The fire glowed through the window, casting orange light across the interior of the car. My face felt hot from the reflected heat.

  “Just following orders,” Cox said lightly.

  I didn’t answer.

  Mirai sat back, pressing her hands over her face.

  I closed my eyes.

  The store was gone. The owner would lose everything. But it wasn’t just about protecting Mirai. Mom was cleaning up her loose ends—severing any connection that could lead back to us. That’s how it worked.

  And it pissed me off.

  Not because it was wrong.

  But because I understood it too well.

  Shirley slipped into the passenger seat with the same calm, effortless grace she’d shown while setting a building on fire. She adjusted her seatbelt and smoothed down the front of her suit like she hadn’t just committed arson.

  “We’ll have the body inspected by our house-call forensic,” she said casually, like this was standard procedure. “It’s tough to fit him in the rear trunk though.”

  “Of course, that was like the third body and we only have one trunk,” Cox huffed from the driver’s seat. He shifted gears, and the car rolled away from the burning wreckage of the store. The rearview mirror reflected the growing orange glow as the fire swallowed everything.

  Shirley crified, “It wasn’t a lone assassin. I’m sorry we weren’t able to deal with all of them… and soemthing like that had to happen.”

  Mirai’s arms were crossed tight over her chest. Her gaze stayed fixed on the burning store until the fmes were nothing more than a flickering light in the distance.

  “Someone owned that store,” Mirai said coldly.

  Shirley didn’t even blink. “If it’s any comfort, Lady Evelyn already purchased the property. No need to worry about the owner.”

  Mirai’s head snapped toward her. “You—what?”

  “It was necessary,” Shirley continued, as if this expnation was enough. “Burning down the scene muddies the waters. It ought to buy us time to trace who issued the hit.”

  Mirai’s eyes widened. “The hit? That’s what this is about?”

  Cox snorted. “What else would it be?”

  Mirai’s jaw tightened. “And the… body?”

  Cox didn’t bother looking back at her. “We’ll take care of it.”

  “‘Take care of it,’” Mirai repeated slowly.

  “Call in the forensic expert,” Cox said, drumming his fingers on the wheel. “Then we’ll dispose of it. Like how we used to.”

  Mirai’s expression darkened. “Used to?”

  Cox didn’t eborate.

  Mirai turned toward me, her eyes sharp. “Mark?”

  I stiffened.

  She leaned closer. “Are you… a gangster?”

  “What?” My voice cracked slightly. “No!”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Because this—” She gestured toward Shirley and Cox. “—this feels very organized crime!”

  “I’m not a gangster,” I repeated, heat rising to my face. “This is—this is new to me.”

  “New?” Mirai’s brow furrowed.

  “I mean, I didn’t know Mom even had people like this. Subordinates.”

  Cox ughed. “Subordinates, huh? Cute.”

  I shot him a gre.

  Shirley smiled faintly. “It’s not our pce to say, but… Cox and I owe our lives to Lady Evelyn.”

  Mirai’s gaze sharpened. “What do you mean by that?”

  Shirley’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a weight behind her gaze. “We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her.”

  “That doesn’t expin anything,” Mirai said.

  Shirley’s expression softened. “It’s not my story to tell.”

  Mirai’s eyes darkened. “Convenient.”

  “Regardless,” Shirley continued, “Lady Evelyn would prefer to expin it herself.”

  Mirai’s hands curled into fists. “Then why was I targeted?”

  Cox shrugged. “Not our department.”

  Shirley’s tone remained calm. “Lady Evelyn will tell you when it’s time. We were only instructed to intervene.”

  “Right,” Mirai said ftly.

  My gaze dropped to my hands. They were still shaking. I curled them into fists.

  Mom had set all of this up. She knew this would happen. She sent Shirley and Cox in advance.

  And still—

  “She’s always ten steps ahead,” I muttered.

  So why did she let that assassin even reach Mirai?

  Shirley’s eyes flicked toward me. “That’s why she’s Lady Evelyn.”

  Mirai crossed her arms tighter. “And we’re supposed to just… accept this?”

  “Unless you have a better pn,” Cox said, his tone almost amused.

  Mirai’s gre could’ve cut steel.

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “Look, I… trust my mom.”

  Mirai’s gaze snapped toward me.

  “You trust her?”

  “…Yeah.”

  Mirai’s expression twisted.

  “Because she’s never been wrong,” I added. “And… we’re still alive.”

  Mirai stared at me for a long moment. Then she turned away and sank deeper into the seat. Her arms stayed crossed.

  I sighed and leaned my head against the window.

  Outside, the city lights blurred past. The reflection of the fire still burned behind my eyes.

  I was used to Mom cleaning up after me. Covering my tracks. Pulling strings to keep me safe.

  But this time…

  This time it was Mirai.

  Mom wasn’t just protecting me anymore.

  And that scared me more than the assassin.

  However, there was a lingering suspicion this wasn’t all about Mirai’s protection.

  “Where are you taking us?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

  Shirley and Cox exchanged a gnce. The car slowed to a stop in front of a hotel. Not just any hotel—a posh one. Polished marble exterior, golden trim on the revolving doors, and a uniformed valet already stepping forward.

  I frowned. “Seriously?”

  Shirley turned toward us with that polite, empty smile of hers. “Lady Evelyn booked a room. You’ll be safe here for the night.”

  “A hotel?” Mirai’s voice trembled. “Shouldn’t we go to the police? I just—”

  Shirley’s smile didn’t even flicker. “That would be unwise.”

  Mirai’s lips parted. “Unwise? I just killed a man!”

  Her voice was rising now.

  “And you’d like to inform the authorities?” Cox’s tone was dry as sandpaper. “File a report? Sign a confession? Let them take a statement?”

  Mirai’s mouth opened—then closed.

  “You think you’d walk away from that?” Cox scoffed. “At best, you’d lose your only chance of becoming a real ESPer. You’d lose your pce here on ESPer Isnd. At worst, you’d be marked as a criminal. Maybe even expelled from the academy.”

  “That’s not fair!” Mirai’s eyes widened.

  Cox leaned his elbow on the wheel. His expression darkened. “No. It’s not fair. Welcome to how the world works.”

  Mirai’s face crumpled. Her trembling hand clutched the seatbelt across her chest.

  “Let me guess.” Cox’s tone sharpened. “You thought ESPers pyed by the same rules as everyone else? You thought killing in self-defense would be enough?”

  Mirai’s hands curled into fists. Her eyes were wide, shining with unshed tears.

  “Wake up, girl,” Cox said coldly. “The person who put that hit on you is still out there. And if you think they’ll stop just because you feel bad about it—”

  Enough.

  My hand slid down the side of the seat, finding the tch for the seat’s recliner.

  I pulled it back—

  Then kicked with both legs.

  The seat in front of me lurched forward with a sharp metallic crunch. Cox’s head smmed into the wheel, hard enough to set off a sharp honk from the horn.

  He cursed under his breath, clutching his forehead.

  “Mark!” Mirai gasped.

  I let go of the tch and reached for the door handle. Still locked.

  I swore and elbowed the window, but the gss didn’t even crack.

  Cox groaned and pushed his seat back into position. He rubbed the side of his head where a red welt was already forming under his eye.

  “You’re an idiot,” Cox muttered. “Bulletproof gss.”

  I leveled a gre at him.

  “Next time,” Cox said darkly, “I won’t be so forgiving.”

  I pointed at the bruising under his eye. “Next time you talk to Mirai like that,” I said coldly, “I’ll give you another.”

  Cox’s mouth curled into a dangerous smile.

  Shirley’s hand reached out and pressed a button on under the dashboard. The door locks clicked open with a quiet pop.

  “Enough,” Shirley said calmly. “We’re here.”

  Mirai unbuckled her seatbelt and pushed the door open.

  She hesitated for a moment, her gaze still wide and unfocused—then climbed out.

  I followed close behind.

  The valet stepped toward us. His eyes flicked briefly toward the bruising on Cox’s face, then quickly away.

  Shirley stepped out after us, her smile polite. “Your room number is 1408. Your key cards are already prepared.”

  Mirai stood stiffly under the glowing hotel lights. She looked small. Fragile.

  I stepped to her side and brushed my hand against hers.

  She didn’t pull away.

  Shirley inclined her head. “Shall I have the concierge bring up room service?”

  “No,” Mirai said softly.

  “As you wish,” Shirley said smoothly.

  Cox leaned out of the driver’s seat, still rubbing his forehead. “Try not to do anything stupid,” he called out.

  I shot him a sharp gre.

  “Pleasant dreams,” Cox added with a mocking smile.

  Mirai turned and stalked toward the hotel entrance without a word.

  I followed, just half a step behind her.

  Shirley’s voice carried after us. “Goodnight, young master.”

  I didn’t look back.

  “This way, please,” the attendant said, stepping ahead of us toward the elevator.

  Mirai and I followed in silence. The elevator ride was smooth, almost unnervingly quiet. The soft jazz pying over the speakers felt completely out of pce considering the night we’d had.

  The attendant led us down a long, polished hallway with a thick, cream-colored carpet. The lights were soft, the walls lined with expensive-looking art.

  She stopped in front of a door marked 1408 and handed each of us a key card. “Please enjoy your stay.”

  I gave her a brief nod. Mirai didn’t respond.

  Once the attendant left, Mirai stared at the key card in her hand. Her brow furrowed.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  She turned the card over, frowning. “How does this work?”

  I blinked.

  “Maybe… you slide it into the hollow line?” Mirai suggested.

  “Maybe.”

  I swiped the card. Nothing.

  I tried again, flipping it the other way.

  Click.

  The door unlocked.

  “Huh.”

  “I guess that works,” I said, stepping back.

  Mirai looked at the card in her hand like it had personally insulted her.

  I pushed the door open.

  Please… no heart-shaped bed. No dim red lights. No tacky mirrored ceilings. Just give me one normal room—

  Two normal-sized beds.

  Thank god.

  I sighed in relief and stepped inside. Mirai followed, her gaze sweeping over the room. It was nice—spacious, cream-colored decor, soft lighting, and a huge window with a view of the city.

  Normally, I’d be impressed. But after the night we’d had… I just felt tired.

  Mirai sat on the edge of one of the beds. She touched the cotton sheets, then slid down until her face was pressed into the pillow.

  “This is… nice,” she said quietly.

  Her voice sounded hollow.

  I sat down on the edge of the other bed, leaning back on my hands. “Yeah.”

  Mirai didn’t move.

  A shaky breath escaped from her throat.

  “Mirai?” I sat up.

  She curled in on herself. Her shoulders trembled.

  Was she… crying?

  I hesitated. My hand hovered over her back. Slowly, I lowered it and began to rub her shoulder in soft, slow circles—the way Mom used to do when I was a kid. Back when I’d lock myself in my room and stare at the ceiling for hours, feeling like my chest was colpsing inward.

  Mirai’s back tensed.

  “Don’t touch me!” she snapped, jerking away from my hand.

  I pulled back immediately. “Sorry.”

  Her breath hitched. A muffled sob escaped from the pillow.

  Then silence.

  A few seconds passed.

  She sat up, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

  I couldn’t look at her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have shed on you like that.”

  Trash. That’s what I felt like. I was supposed to like this girl. It was part of the mission. For Mom. And yet—

  I didn’t even know how I really felt.

  Was I supposed to comfort her? Was I supposed to pull away? I couldn’t even tell if this was guilt or… something else.

  But right now, she was sitting there, quiet and shaking and miserable, and I—

  I clenched my fists.

  “…Mirai,” I said.

  She gnced at me, her eyes gssy and red.

  “I… I want to confess something to you.”

  Her expression tightened. “…What?”

  I swallowed hard.

  “My mom,” I said quietly. “She’s… not a normal person.”

  Mirai’s gaze sharpened.

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “You probably figured that already.”

  Mirai didn’t say anything.

  “But I guess… you need to understand that I’m not normal either.”

  Her eyes widened slightly.

  I inhaled slowly. “You asked earlier if I was a gangster.”

  Mirai’s breath hitched.

  “I’m not,” I said. “But… growing up with my mom… let’s just say I learned a lot about this kind of life.”

  Her hands tightened in her p.

  “I’ve seen her take down people like that assassin before.” My voice was ft. “She’s… ruthless. Scary. And she’s trained me to be the same. I have training, but not like the one our cssmates have… Mine stemmed from experience.”

  Mirai’s mouth opened—but no sound came out.

  “I don’t know why someone targeted you,” I admitted. “But...”

  Mirai’s eyes lowered. “…So what are you saying?”

  I forced myself to meet her gaze.

  “I’m saying… I’ll protect you.”

  Mirai’s eyes widened.

  I didn’t know why I said it. Maybe it was just instinct. Or maybe it was because I could still see the way her hands were shaking, and I hated that I couldn’t stop it.

  Her mouth opened—but no sound came out.

  After a long moment, she said, “…Mark.”

  “Yeah?”

  Her hand brushed against mine. Just barely.

  “…Why?” she whispered.

  “…Because I want to.”

  Mirai’s lips trembled.

  Then she leaned in—just enough for her forehead to brush against my shoulder.

  I stayed still.

  I didn’t pull away.

  And this time… she didn’t either.

  I’m such a coward.

  I should have told her. Right then and there.

  About my mom. About her insanity. About the way she’d woken up from her coma spouting nonsense about memories from another world. About how she insisted—demanded—that I romance Mirai.

  To me, Mirai had always been a mission.

  Nothing more.

  A task. An objective. Something I had to do, had to succeed at—because if I failed, the consequences would be catastrophic.

  Mom made that clear enough.

  But sitting there, with Mirai leaning against my shoulder—shaking and quiet—I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

  I couldn’t tell her that I’d been lying to her from the start.

  Her hair tickled my neck. Her breathing was soft and shallow. Her hand, still trembling, brushed against mine and lingered there.

  She was vulnerable.

  And for the first time, I realized—

  I didn’t know what to do with that.

  Because Mirai wasn’t supposed to matter this much.

  She was supposed to be a goal. A stepping stone to survival. An obstacle to clear so that I wouldn’t die like Mom said I was destined to.

  That was all she was supposed to be.

  Then why does this feel different?

  “Mark?” Mirai’s voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Yeah?”

  Her fingers curled around the fabric of my sleeve.

  She didn’t say anything else.

  She didn’t have to.

  The weight of her trust, the quiet vulnerability in her posture—it made something in my chest tighten.

  I couldn’t do this.

  I shouldn’t do this.

  But…

  I shifted slightly, my hand brushing over hers. She didn’t pull away.

  Instead, her hand tightened around mine.

  “…Are you okay?” I asked.

  It was a stupid question.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  A long silence stretched between us.

  “…But you’re not alone,” I said.

  Mirai’s breath hitched.

  “I know that doesn’t fix anything,” I added quickly. “And I know you probably hate me for dragging you into this, but—”

  “I don’t.”

  I turned toward her. Her eyes were gssy and red, her cheeks blotchy. But her gaze was steady.

  “I don’t hate you,” she said softly.

  “…Even after all this?”

  She nodded. Slowly.

  I looked away.

  I couldn’t tell her the truth. Not now. Not when she was looking at me like that.

  Because if I told her that this whole thing started as a calcuted strategy, as part of my mom’s insane attempt to rewrite destiny—

  If I told her that…

  Would she still look at me this way?

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out.

  Mirai let go of my hand. I immediately missed the warmth of her touch.

  “…You should sleep,” I said.

  She gnced toward the bed, then back at me. “What about you?”

  “I’ll stay up.”

  Mirai frowned. “You need rest too.”

  “I’ll sleep ter.”

  She hesitated. Then she sighed and pushed herself off the bed. “You’re impossible.”

  I shrugged.

  She lingered for a second longer, then pulled back the covers and slid under them.

  I watched her settle in, her eyes drifting half-closed.

  I should have felt relieved.

  I didn’t.

  Instead, I sat there, repying the night in my head. The assassin. Shirley and Cox. The burning store. The knife in my hand.

  And Mirai—

  Mirai, standing between me and the bde.

  I leaned back against the headboard and stared at the ceiling.

  At some point, Mirai’s breathing slowed into the soft, steady rhythm of sleep.

  I sat there, still awake, my thoughts spinning in slow, ugly circles.

  “Mom,” I thought. “What the hell have you gotten me into? This is… so much…”