Casper moved with lightning speed.

The instant Veronica finished speaking, his arm locked around her waist. With unstoppable momentum, he guided her away from the waiter, using the crowd as cover.


"Follow me. Don't speak," he ordered, his arm like steel around her waist.

Veronica's heart hammered against her ribs, threatening to burst through.

She matched his stride, forcing her face into a mask of composure—even managing weak smiles at passing guests—while her legs trembled beneath her.


The waiter, sensing he'd been made, began drifting casually toward the exit.

Casper pulled Veronica behind a massive column and snapped into his phone: "Target moving to east exit. Gray uniform, crooked bow tie. Intercept."


He pocketed his phone and glanced at her stiletto heels. "Can you run?"

Veronica inhaled deeply and nodded.

"Good. We're not using the main exit."

He guided her through the crowd into a secluded service corridor.

Just as they approached a door marked "Staff Only," it burst open from the other side!

Two masked men in black jackets charged through, silenced weapons aimed directly at them.

Veronica's breath froze in her lungs.

Casper moved like lightning. As the guns came up, he shoved Veronica aside and dove in the opposite direction.

Thwip! Thwip! Two muffled shots punched into the wall where they'd stood seconds before.

Veronica huddled in the corner, hands clamped over her mouth to stifle her screams.

The acrid smell of dust and disinfectant filled her nose as she watched the nightmare unfold through terrified eyes.

Casper moved with impossible speed, using minimal cover to dodge bullets, his eyes calculating every angle.

Unarmed but undaunted, he spotted one attacker moving toward Veronica's hiding place. In one fluid motion, he kicked a metal trash can across the floor.

CLANG! The noise reverberated through the narrow space, drawing the attacker's attention.

In that split-second distraction, Casper closed the gap like a ghost. His hand struck the gunman's wrist with surgical precision—crack!—the sound of bones giving way.

The weapon clattered to the floor as Casper's other hand clamped around the man's throat, slamming him against the wall.

The entire sequence took less than a heartbeat.

The second gunman swung his weapon toward Casper's exposed back.

"Look out!" Veronica screamed, grabbing a heavy metal thermos and hurling it with all her strength!

The thermos missed its target but crashed against the wall with a deafening CLANG! The noise and sudden movement made the gunman flinch.

That split-second hesitation made all the difference.

Pounding footsteps echoed down the corridor as Casper's security team finally arrived.

A brief scuffle, a heavy thud, then silence fell again.

The head of security approached Casper with a slight bow. "Sir, I apologize for our delayed response. Both targets are secured."

Casper straightened his cuffs, his breathing perfectly steady.

He glanced at the unconscious attacker, then turned to Veronica, still huddled in the corner.

He approached and crouched before her, his shadow falling across her trembling form, bringing with it the acrid scent of gunpowder and danger.

Veronica looked up, face ashen, eyes wide with terror, body shaking uncontrollably. Her elegant gown was dust-smeared, her carefully styled hair in disarray.

Casper extended his hand, not touching her but hovering before her. "Nice throw."

His deep voice betrayed no emotion.

Veronica stared at his hand—strong, with prominent knuckles—the same hand that had just efficiently neutralized a killer.

She slowly lowered her hands from her mouth, her fingers like ice.

"I… missed," she whispered, voice quavering with shock.

"But you distracted him," Casper stated matter-of-factly.

He paused, studying her pale face. Finally, his hovering hand descended—not to help her up, but to gently brush dust from her shoulder.

"Well done, Veronica."

For the first time, he spoke her name with something like respect.

He stood, instantly transforming back into the commanding Mr. Wolfe. "Clean this up. Find out who's behind it."

He turned back to Veronica, extending his hand—this time clearly offering assistance.

"Can you stand?"

Veronica eyed his outstretched hand, hesitated briefly, then placed her cold, trembling fingers in his palm.

His hand was warm and dry, with undeniable strength as he pulled her effortlessly to her feet.

As their skin connected, a strange sensation—entirely different from fear—shivered down her spine.