Addicted to you
Chapter 63: Underestimated

Chapter 63: Underestimated

Meanwhile, deep in the shadowed woods, Shin Keir crouched low, his body still as stone, his sharp gaze scanning every movement, every shift of wind in the grass.

He had already calculated the likely time and path the pursuers would take. The pursuers were closing in. He could feel it in the way the forest held its breath.

He melted into the dark like a phantom, silent and calculating.

His goal was simple: lead them far from the car. Far from Yeri.

She was the only thing that mattered.

Without a sound, he slipped deeper into the darkness, vanishing like a ghost, every step measured, every thought precise.

Moments later, tires crunched over loose gravel.

A black car stopped at the edge of the clearing. Three men jumped out, guns in hand, eyes scanning the surroundings.

"Did we lose him?" one muttered, voice sharp with nerves.

"No," another snapped. "This is a dead end. He’s here. Hiding."

"Should we call for backup?"

"What, for one guy?" a third scoffed. "Coward."

Shin’s ears sharpened at that. They hadn’t mentioned Yeri, not once. That confirmed his suspicion: they didn’t see him pick her up earlier. She wasn’t their target. Just collateral.

A rush of relief passed through him, cold and fleeting like a blade of ice. He let himself breathe once.

Then came a shout.

"There are fresh tire marks here!" one of them shouted.

That was the trigger.

Shin’s eyes narrowed. He rose slightly, aimed without hesitation.

Bang.

One clean shot—right between the man’s eyes.

The body dropped.

The other two shouted and began firing blindly, gunfire cracked through the trees as the other two spun around, their hands shaking, aim broken by panic.

The forest erupted.

But they made rookie mistakes.

No cover. No plan. Just noise and fear.

Shin moved like smoke between the trees, smooth and deadly.

There was no doubt this wasn’t their first gig. Their arrogant, unbothered demeanor said it all—these people were used to killing, though only when the target was someone ordinary.

But Shin Keir didn’t become the head of Hexion because of wealth or lineage. He didn’t rely on bodyguards or overwhelming numbers to keep him safe.

And this wasn’t his first brush with an assassination attempt either.

Bang.

Another fell.

Bang.

The last one dropped to his knees, then pitched forward into the dirt.

And just like that, the woods fell quiet again.

Only the faint rustle of leaves and the cooling hiss of gunmetal remained.

It took less than thirty seconds.

Shin didn’t linger. He stepped over the bodies without a word, eyes scanning, boots silent on the forest floor.

Moving with silent precision, he crept toward their car, inspected it briefly, then fired a single bullet into the gas tank before anyone inside could react.

The explosion tore through the night like a thunderclap, fire blooming into the sky. Heat roared outward, scorching the nearby trees with an orange glow.

Their screams of agony were quickly swallowed by the flames—until, at last, there was only silence.

He watched impassively as the fire lit the woods around him.

But then his eyes narrowed.

There was only one body inside.

He counted again.

Three outside. One in the car.

Only four.

He was certain.

There had been five.

Shin’s fingers gripped the gun tighter.

---

Back in the Bugatti, Yeri sat stiffly in the passenger seat, her eyes sharp and alert. The sound of gunfire echoed through the distant trees, each shot like a slap to her chest.

Although Shin Keir had told her firmly to wait in the car, and Butler Hong repeated the same instructions like a broken record, her gut twisted with a cold unease.

It was too dark to see clearly from inside. The towering trees pressed in on both sides, casting deep shadows over the windshield and blocking what little moonlight filtered down.

She didn’t know how far Shin had gone.

She didn’t know if he was safe.

She didn’t know if he was coming back soon.

Time ticked by slowly. Minutes felt like hours.

Out of sight, just beyond the thick underbrush, a lone figure crept forward. His movements were clean, silent, methodical. This wasn’t some reckless thug—he was trained. A professional. Someone who had been through worse nights than this.

The moment he spotted the sleek blue Bugatti, his entire posture changed. Alert. Wary. Dangerous.

He reached into his coat and pulled out a gun, wrapping a cloth tightly around the grip and his hand, ensuring he wouldn’t lose it in a struggle. In his other hand, he gripped a sharp, military-style knife. Cold metal, steady fingers.

His expression was tight with regret and fury.

They had underestimated Shin Keir.

Of course, when he took this job, they’d conducted a thorough background check on the target.

Shin Keir, with his family pedigree and elite status, wasn’t an easy mark. But like all men, he had his weak moments. They simply had to wait until he was without his bodyguards.

They assumed that once stripped of protection, he’d be just like the others—mildly trained in self-defense, capable with a gun perhaps, but nothing beyond that.

They even dismissed the fact that Shin Keir was the head of Hexion—the most powerful mafia organization in the country. Titles were just names, after all. With enough money and the right connections, anyone could rise in the underworld.

But all those assumptions were shattered tonight.

He had already noticed something was off the moment the Bugatti swerved beneath that truck, narrowly avoiding what should have been a fatal collision.

It was executed in a blink—seamless, deliberate, almost inhuman. Anyone who could pull that off wasn’t someone ordinary.

He had warned the others, suggested they reconsider and call for backup. Maybe their intel on Shin Keir wasn’t as reliable as they thought.

But everyone just laughed.

Even he had been half-hearted in his concern... and now he regretted it.

They had mocked Shin Keir, assuming he would cry, beg for his life, or offer them a fortune just to walk away.

They’re convinced that Shin Keir’s success was nothing more than a combination of luck and family privilege. Perhaps he was smart enough to be CEO, but in the face of death? He’d be helpless. Powerless.

That arrogance stemmed from underground rumors, whispers that Shin Keir might be gay. After all, who would believe a man like him had no interest in women?

Men, by nature, were wolves—driven by desire, lust, power.

The only exception? A man whose desire leaned toward his own kind.

Although they had gathered information about Shin Keir’s supposed fiancée, Calin Ricci—the only daughter of a first-tier Ricci family—the relationship between the two over the years couldn’t even be described as acquaintanceship.

At first, they believed the two pretending to be strangers was a strategic move by both families to protect Calin Ricci.

However, she had recently landed herself in murky waters, publicly scolded by netizens for a scandal involving her bullying of subordinates. Upon further investigation, it was Shin Keir who had exposed her.

Regardless of his motives, there was no way Shin Keir would deliberately harm his own fiancée, even under the guise of protection. This confirmed that the engagement was merely a rumor and more importantly, that Calin Ricci was useless as leverage against Shin Keir.

"Damn it," the man cursed inwardly.

In just seconds, Shin Keir had taken down his companions. No hesitation. No warning. And then he’d blown up their car, clearly intending to kill every last one of them and eliminate any chance of escape.

He knew then—they’d miscalculated. Horribly.

There were no footsteps. No sound. No struggle. Just silence and then bodies.

He’d told the last guy in the car they needed to run. But the fool had refused. Now, he was reduced to ashes along with their ride.

The flames had lit up Shin Keir’s face for only a moment—and what he saw still haunted him.

It wasn’t fear.

It wasn’t even rage.

It was coldness. Calm, merciless coldness.

Shin was someone who had met death before, stared into its eyes and walked away unfazed.

He wore a monster’s skin beneath a man’s face.

A demon wrapped in expensive suits and calculated decisions, hiding behind public assumptions and carefully cultivated misunderstandings.

Now, crouched near the Bugatti, the man studied the vehicle for traps. None. No wires, no pressure triggers. After another beat of hesitation, he darted forward, gun raised, heart pounding.

Empty.

No sign of Shin Keir.

He peered through the driver’s side window—no keys. He cursed under his breath. He didn’t have time to hotwire a hypercar. Shin Keir could be on his way back any second.

He opened the door, quickly scanning the interior for anything useful.

There, on the passenger seat, was a shawl.

That wasn’t just any shawl. It was delicate, light-colored, clearly belonging to a woman.

Nearby, a plastic bag.

Inside: snacks, tissues... and sanitary pads.

He blinked, his eyes narrowed. Mind racing.

Shin Keir wasn’t alone tonight!

Whoever said Shin Keir was alone tonight was dead wrong. And whoever claimed Shin Keir was gay... could join him in hell!

He checked the dirt near the car and spotted faint impressions—small, slender footprints. A woman’s.

Where did she go? Did Shin Keir take her with him?

Then a cruel thought crept in.

Without a car, no backup, no time, escape was unlikely.

And Shin Keir was likely hunting him now.

If he wanted to survive this night, he’d need an edge.

A hostage.

His breath quickened as he followed the faint trail, heart thudding like a drumbeat of desperation.

He didn’t want to die here. Not like the others.

If this woman is important to Shin Keir then he could use her.

The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!