Chapter 15
Kai
June was right. I did know a thing or two about bunkers.
After eating, she showed me Dannie’s security system. She led me into the living room and stopped in front of a large canvas painting.
She reached behind the frame and carefully removed it, revealing a small keypad. Nothing flashy. Just a standard-looking number pad.
“This is it.”
I crouched in front of it. “How many digits?”
“Six.”
I studied the keypad. The symbol on the corner caught my attention, and I recognised the company immediately.
I’d researched them years ago when upgrading my own security systems. They specialised in extreme security: once you went inside, you either left through the designated exit—or didn’t leave at all.
I’d considered using them. Eventually, I decided against it. I liked having options.
“You think the same code unlocks the door?” June asked.
“Maybe.” I straightened. “But before we try it, we need to ask whether we’re actually ready to leave.”
“Why?” She frowned. “Do you really think whoever attacked us is still waiting outside?”
“If they were ordered to wait, three days means nothing.”
Her expression changed. “So we’re not ready.”
“Not yet.”
“Then what do we need?”
“Weapons. Lots of them, preferably.” I kept my voice calm. “Whoever is outside may not be interested in talking. If we open that door, we might have to fight our way through.”
“Kai…”
Do you want to get out? I stopped myself before saying the rest.
Or stay here with me forever?
The thought had crossed my mind more than once. There was something strangely peaceful about being trapped here with her. No boardrooms. No phones. No meetings. No family drama. No one asking me to fix something.
Just me. And June.
Perhaps this could have been my version of happily ever after. Locked inside a bunker with the woman I’d spent years trying not to love. Because once we walked through that door, everything waiting outside would come rushing back: responsibility, duty, family.
And I’d lose her again.
“We’ll get out eventually, right?” June asked quietly. “One way or another.”
“Yes.”
Eventually. Dead or alive.
“What is it?” June was watching me.
I realised I’d been staring at the keypad too long. “Nothing.”
She didn’t believe me. “Something isn’t right.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Kai.” She reached over and pinched my arm.
“Ouch.” I jerked away. “What was that for?”
“Because you’re hiding something.”
“I don’t have to tell you every thought that goes through my head.” I folded my arms. “We’re nobody to each other.”
The words sounded bitter the moment they left my mouth.
She leaned against the wall, studying me. “We might have to spend the rest of our lives together.” She gave me a small, humourless smile. “Maybe it would help if we started being honest with each other.”
The sadness in her voice settled over me.
“I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“Just tell me.”
I drew in a deep breath. “We have three chances.”
“For what?”
“To get the code right.”
Her expression changed. “If we get it wrong three times…”
“The system shuts down.”
“Forever?”
“Yes.”
Her mouth fell open. “Of course.” Then she laughed. “You have this exact system somewhere too, don’t you?”
I shook my head. “Not this one.”
“Then how do you know all this?”
“I considered this company before but they were too extreme. Their system was basically all or nothing.”
“And you prefer having options.”
“Exactly.”
She stared at the keypad. “So let me make sure I understand this.” She pointed at it. “We get three attempts, and then game over. Like an iPhone.”
I nodded. “Kind of.”
She stared at me. “And if we somehow get the code right, there might be people waiting outside to kill us.”
“That would be the other problem.”
She straightened. “Then we'd better get ready.”
“Yes, boss.” I couldn't help smiling. “Whatever you have in mind.”
“First, we search this entire place for weapons.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Then, once we've got enough firepower, we enter the code.”
Something had changed in her.
No one was going to boss her around anymore. Not her brother. Not Dannie. And apparently, not me.
It had taken me a little while to get used to, especially after she'd thrown herself into danger trying to find Squirrel. I'd been furious. Terrified.
But now…
I liked this version of her.
Watching her take control made something inside me rise to meet it. Something darker. Stronger. Protective.
We searched the living room first. Nothing. Then the bedrooms, cupboards, drawers, and every obvious hiding place. Eventually, we found a hollow section behind one of the kitchen walls. June's eyes lit up.
A pantry.
For one glorious second, I thought we'd found weapons. Instead, we found shelves filled with emergency food: dried meals, canned goods, bottled water. Enough to keep two people alive for a very long time.
“That's a win.” I announced.
“Because of the food?”
I picked up one of the packets. “Because I never have to eat millet again.”
She laughed. It was the first genuinely happy sound I'd heard from her in days.
Eventually, we ended up in Dannie's gym. Calling it a home gym was insulting. It was more like a private training facility. Weights lined the walls, punching bags hung from the ceiling, and padded flooring covered most of the room.
June sat on a bench, looking defeated. “So what do we do now?”
I pushed myself to my feet. “Maybe we don't need weapons.”
She looked at me suspiciously. I stepped onto the mat and settled into a horse stance.
“Maybe we can take them empty-handed.”
“With karate?”
“Not karate.” I shifted my weight and raised my hands. “Wing Tsun.”
She tilted her head. “You know martial arts?”
“I know enough.”
“Enough to fight a room full of armed men?”
“Probably not.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “At least you're honest.”
I smiled. “Wing Tsun doesn't rely on brute strength. It focuses on efficiency. Direct movement. Using an opponent's force against them.”
“And it was invented by Bruce Lee?”
I laughed. “No.”
“Then who?”
“According to Wiki, it was developed by a woman.”
She looked at me with renewed interest. “A woman?”
“That's the story.” I held out my hand. “I can teach you a few things.”
She looked at my hand, then at me. “And the weapons?”
“We'll figure that out.”
She rolled her eyes, but finally stood.
I watched as she stepped onto the mat, barefoot, her hair pulled back loosely with several strands falling around her face. She looked tired. Still pale. Still carrying the weight of everything that had happened.
I started teaching her how to stand. She argued that my instructions made no sense, deliberately doing everything wrong just to annoy me. Somewhere between her laughter and my frustration, I realised something.
I didn't want this moment to end.
“Fine. But if you break my nose, I'm blaming you.”
I smiled. “Raise your hands.”
She copied me with all the grace of someone trying to remember a dance she'd only seen once. “Like this?”
“Almost.”
I stepped closer and gently adjusted her elbows. My fingertips barely brushed her forearms, but even that small contact made her glance up at me.
“There.” Our arms rested lightly against each other. “This drill is called Chi Sau. Sticky hands.”
“Sticky hands?”
“The idea is to maintain gentle contact.” I slid my forearm against hers, and she instinctively followed. “You learn to feel what the other person is doing through touch instead of relying entirely on sight.”
“So… don't hit you?”
“Not yet.”
I guided her through the slow rolling motion, our forearms circling and reconnecting. At first, she was stiff. Every muscle seemed determined to fight the movement.
“Relax,” I said softly.
“I'm trying.”
“You're thinking too much.”
“And you're judging me.”
“I'm teaching you.”
A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
“Better.”
We continued. Roll. Redirect. Maintain contact. Again. Every time she became tense, I gave her a gentle nudge rather than resisting her. Slowly, she stopped fighting the movement and started following it. Her shoulders loosened, her breathing steadied, and her reactions became quicker.
“There you go,” I said. “Now you're beginning to feel it.”
“I think I'm just copying you.”
“That's how everyone starts.”
She grew bolder, testing small changes in pressure—a slight push, a quick turn of her wrist. I redirected each one with barely any effort.
“So when do I get to punch you?”
I laughed. “Impatient?”
“Very.”
“Fine.” I held her gaze. “Whenever you feel an opening, take it.”
Her eyes narrowed with exaggerated determination. For several seconds, she played along with the rolling movement. Then, without warning, she snapped a straight punch toward my chest.
I deflected it instinctively. She'd put far too much weight behind it, and her foot slipped across the padded mat.
“Whoa—”
She pitched forward. I caught her around the waist before she hit the floor.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. One arm circled her back while the other steadied her elbow. Her hands rested against my chest, and suddenly the distance between us felt much smaller than it had a second ago.
“You did say to commit,” she murmured.
“I didn't say to throw yourself at me.”
A laugh escaped her, warm and breathless. She stayed in my arms, and neither of us moved. I could feel the warmth of her body through my shirt, her fingers still resting against my chest, the faint rise and fall of her breathing beneath them.
She looked up at me.
I knew I should let her go. I knew exactly how complicated this was. But I couldn't seem to make myself move.
“June…”
Her eyes searched mine. “Kai.”
That was all it took. I leaned closer, slowly enough to give her every opportunity to pull away.
She didn't.
Our lips met. Softly at first, almost cautiously. Then the hesitation disappeared. She melted against me, her arms sliding around my neck as I held her closer.