Chapter 11

ELEVEN

They were in the Jeep before four am, heading out on the M18, Harry at the wheel, Asher supplying him coffee. He was quiet as he scrolled through the files and folders that Yunho had left him, and Harry was happy to concentrate on driving.

There were bank accounts. A lot of them, with more money in them than Harry thought was possible, and those numbers kept clicking over like miles on a speedometer. Every cent of it was theirs if they wanted it.

Yunho had given it to Asher with instructions on how to access it, via untraceable routing funnels that Harry couldn't begin to understand.

There were files of information. Names and personal details on undercover government operatives, high-ranking government officials, from all over the world. Royalty, billionaires, tycoons in the oil, energy, finance, and media sectors. If they had an ounce of power, Yunho had every detail about them.

Information that people would kill for.

Kill because he had it. Kill to get their hands on it .

There were long lists of contacts: people who could get things like passports, tickets, weapons. In almost every country on the planet, and transaction ledgers of every single thing Yunho had.

There were files of photographs and videos of certain officials, politicians, meeting people they should not know, handing over files, transferring data and funds. Yunho had proof of certain governments funding wars, and weapon and drug trades. He had proof that would end careers, end wars and start them.

It scared the shit out of Harry if he was being honest.

In all his time under the Australian government, on the ground in foreign countries doing ungodly things in the name of security, he never wanted to know the details. He never wanted to know why someone was in his crosshairs.

It made things messy.

And now he knew things he wished he'd never seen. Things he wished Asher had never seen, because if they weren't already on a most-wanted list, they certainly would be now.

All Harry wanted to do now was go back to his life a week ago, where their biggest concern was whose turn it was to cook breakfast after lazy mornings in bed.

They crossed into Serbia with only their phones beeping to notify the change of carrier. Harry had to turn right at an intersection on the highway and still Asher hadn't noticed. Harry slid his hand onto Asher's thigh, and he'd been staring out the window, so lost in his thoughts that the touch had startled him.

"You okay?" Harry asked.

"Yes, of course." His answer came a little too fast, too automatic, that Harry took Asher's hand and squeezed it. Then he seemed to look around, only now seeing where they were.

"I need to piss," Harry said. "Where should we stop?"

Asher pointed at the GPS screen on the dash. "Take the next exit, there'll be a service centre on the E75," he said. "We need to get off this highway anyway."

"Okay. You hungry? I'm starving. You've usually fed me croissants with bacon and eggs by this time. Fresh juice, toast with that homemade jam from the local markets."

Asher gave him a small smile. "Simpler times, huh?"

"Much," Harry agreed. "But we will have them again, I promise."

Asher leaned his head on the headrest and watched Harry for a long moment. "It's all I want. A quiet life with you. I don't even care where, as long as I have you. You're my home, Harry."

Harry lifted Asher's hand and kissed his knuckles. "And you are mine. I don't care where we end up either. If you wanted to come back here?—"

"No."

Okay then. That was very blunt.

"Not here."

"We could go back to Thailand with Yunho," Harry suggested, aiming to make him smile. "I mean, he might need to buy a new tropical island, but whatever. Or somewhere new. Somewhere warm and far away."

Asher shrugged and sighed. "I want to go home," he said quietly. "When this is done. To our little home in our little town. With Mala. And Jacob and even August. They're our friends. They came to warn us. They had no idea who we really were, but they came to warn us anyway. The only people I have from my old life have all lied to me. Daris, Lucas, even Yunho." He shook his head. "I don't know what's real or who to believe. All I have is you, Harry. You and our life back in Australia are the only real things I have ever had. Even if it was with fake names..." He shook his head. "It was the happiest I've ever been. I need you to know that."

Jesus Christ.

It sounds an awful lot like he's getting ready to say goodbye.

It made Harry feel sick, made his heart thump out of rhythm. He drove into the service centre, pulled up at the closest bowser, shut the engine off, and took Asher's hand. "Asher, baby, I do know that. You know I feel the same. The last two years have been more than I ever deserved." He squeezed his hand. "Listen to me. We will have that again. I promise. No matter what happens today, or tomorrow, next week or ten years from now. You and me, always."

Asher's eyes met his, glassy and sad. God, it almost killed Harry to see. "Thank you," Asher whispered.

"I love you," Harry said. "All of you, Asher Garin." Then he grimaced. "And I will love you even more after I've had a piss. My back teeth are starting to float."

Asher snorted and rolled his eyes. "So charming. Go," he said, shooing Harry away. "Go find the bathrooms and get some food. I'll fill the tank."

Harry unbuckled his seatbelt, took Asher's face in both hands, and kissed him. "Won't be long."

Harry made a dash for the bathrooms, and on his way out, seeing Asher was still at the bowser, he ordered toasted sandwiches, coffees, and grabbed some bottled water.

When he got to the counter, he saw some familiar mints near the register. Asher used to love these... Harry considered getting the sugar free ones to annoy him, but given how hard it'd been on him, and what he'd been through, Harry wanted to see him smile. He took four tins of them, paid for everything, and was smiling when he walked back out to the Jeep.

Asher wasn't smiling though. When Harry climbed in, Asher showed him his phone. "They found Rozga's body. It's all over the news. They still suspect it's a gang war. Press conference at nine."

Harry instinctively checked the rearview mirror. "I haven't seen one cop this whole trip."

"Good."

Harry held up the bag in an attempt at getting Asher to smile. "I got you something."

"Do I want to know?" Asher asked from the passenger seat, looking at him dubiously.

Harry stuck his hand in the bag and pulled out a tin. "Look at what they have!"

Asher's eyes went to the mints, then back to Harry, and he smiled, even laughed a little, but his eyes became glassy as he took them. "Thank you," he said, his chin wobbling a little.

Immediately alarmed, Harry shoved the bag aside and took Asher's hand. "Hey, baby, what's wrong?"

Asher shook his head and rolled his eyes. "I don't know. Everything. It's being back here, I think. It's not knowing where Yunho is, if he's still alive. Those stupid files he left me raise more questions than they answer. I don't like being back here. This place. And then you give me these," he said, looking at the mints. "I don't know what I ever did to deserve you."

"You didn't shoot me that day in Madrid, remember? And after that, you annoyed me until I fell in love with you, remember?"

Asher nodded, smiling now. "Yeah. I remember. Though I'm pretty sure I fell in love with you first."

Harry laughed. "Maybe it was a tie."

"Maybe it was."

Harry started the Jeep. "Okay, back onto the highway to Belgrade, yeah?"

Asher sucked back a breath and let it out slowly. "No. Stay on this road. It will take us south of the city." His brows furrowed. "There's something I want to see first."

Okay then.

Asher gave directions, which Harry followed without question. Asher was clearly familiar with this place. He knew which turns to take as if he knew these streets by rote.

Through a small township where Harry had no hope of reading the signs, past an old fuel station, now abandoned. "Turn here," Asher said.

Harry slowed to a stop. "That... that doesn't look like a road. Is it a bicycle trail?"

Asher gave him a cutting look, so Harry turned down the narrow path. About fifty metres in, they passed a man jogging with a dog on a leash. He didn't seem to care that Harry was driving on the path, so Harry kept going. It was overgrown, brambly trees scraped the sides of the Jeep in some parts, and Harry was about to question Asher again until he saw his grip on the tin of mints. His face didn't give much away, but his knuckles were white.

Harry knew then, whatever was up here wasn't good.

"There's a turn to the left up here," Asher murmured.

"Okay," Harry replied. The turn was an overgrown dirt driveway that clearly hadn't been driven on in a long time. There was an old wire fence, which had been, at some point, locked but was now broken and wide open. Harry drove in slowly, the two-wheel track barely visible in the long grass and shrubs.

Asher swallowed hard, his grip on the tin of mints still tight.

Around the bend and down the track some more was another fence, the gate locked. This one chain-link, six foot tall. There was a hole cut through the wire off the trail but the Jeep wasn't going any further.

There was an abandoned building about two hundred metres away. No windows, damaged roof, spray-painted graffiti on the concrete walls. It was a decent size, but grass and weeds were overtaking it now. There was another building behind it that Harry could see had sheets of iron bent or missing.

Asher got out of the Jeep and walked to the fence. Harry followed him quietly, watching as he gripped the chain-link fence and bowed his head.

Harry gently lay a hand on his shoulder. "Asher."

Asher nodded, but then he sobbed and shook the fence. "Fuck them. Fuck this place."

Harry pulled him into his arms and Asher went willingly, letting Harry hold him as he cried.

Harry had never seen Asher cry.

Not like this.

He held him tight and rubbed his back. He wasn't sure what was wrong, though he could guess. He remembered something Asher had said long ago.

"When I was about six, I was loaded into a truck with other boys and taken to a military training school outside of Belgrade in Serbia."

Jesus fucking Christ .

"Is this the training school you were sent to?"

Asher nodded and a sob wracked him, letting his tears fall and his rarely seen emotions pour out of him, letting Harry hold him, comfort him.

Asher had always spoken of his past with such a matter-of-fact aloofness that Harry had wondered if it affected him at all.

It very clearly did.

And Harry knew Asher had survived horrors and atrocities he couldn't even imagine. A comment here and there, a far-off look in his eyes some days. He had frequent nightmares and he'd flinch and mumble in his sleep.

And clearly being here, seeing this place, made it impossible to keep from the surface.

Harry held him tight, kissing the side of Asher's head and rubbing his back while he cried. He couldn't even imagine what Asher had been through.

Barely six years old, scared and alone, made to fight for food, beaten and abused, seeing weaker boys die or get sold for a worse fate.

Harry shuddered to think of what those grown fucking men did to Asher in this place.

Asher grew heavy in his arms as his sobs became quieter and he gave him time to catch his breath. "I hate them. I hate them all," Asher mumbled.

Harry hated them too.

"I'll help you track them down if you want," Harry said.

Asher sighed and pulled back so he could wipe his face. His eyes were red and puffy, his nose and cheeks wet. He held the back of his hand to his nose. "I'm sorry."

Harry put his hand to Asher's cheek, wiping the tears. "What for? You don't ever have to apologise to me. "

"For crying, for being a mess." He shook his head and fresh tears welled in his eyes. "I never realised... I've been back here before and it never affected me like this."

"Asher, baby, you're not the same person today as you were back then. Not even two years ago. You know what real love is now. You know you deserve to be happy. You deserve to be loved. You've seen a different way to live."

He shook his head and began to cry again. "I've killed so many people. I killed fifteen men just yesterday, Harry. I don't deserve... I don't..."

Harry's heart ached for him. "Asher, you didn't deserve whatever those fucking men did to you when you were six years old or the decade that followed. You deserved none of that. Everything you did, every life you took, was because of them. They set you on this path. You were just a boy. You had to do what you did to survive. Kill, or be killed. You didn't choose this life. You were forced into it."

"I chose to keep doing it," he said. "When I rescued Yunho and we began working together."

"Because it was all you'd ever known."

Asher looked back at the derelict building, at the overgrown grounds, and shook his head. "There are bodies buried in this forest, Harry. We had to run the trails, in teams, hunting the other teams for sport. There are bunkers farther down... where the instructors would..." His face crumpled and he shook away the tears. He sucked back a shaky breath. "We learned to compartmentalise the pain, separate our emotions. I learned to not feel anything, to disassociate myself from what they made me do."

Harry rubbed his back, gently stroked the back of his neck, his head .

"I haven't thought about any of this for years," Asher whispered. "Coming back here was a mistake."

"No. You needed this," Harry said. "You've held it in for too long. And it won't be easy to sort through all this shit, but I'll be with you. Every step of the way."

He shook his head. "No, not because of this place. Coming back here was a mistake, Harry. Bosnia, Serbia. I shouldn't have come here. I want Yunho back, but I can't risk you to get him. Losing him would gut me. But losing you..." Fresh tears fell down his cheeks. "I wouldn't survive it."

"You won't lose me."

"I don't know what we're dealing with here," he said. "This feels bigger than just Istomin or Radovic. It's about old countries, old political ideals, and that shit runs deep, Harry. And Yunho..." his gaze cut to Harry, and it took a second for Harry to realise what he saw in his eyes.

It was fear.

"A week ago, I'd have said I knew Yunho well. I knew what made him tick, I knew what fed his soul, what made him happy." Asher shrugged. "Now I don't know if I know him at all."

What?

"The files?"

Asher nodded. "There's shit in there that's not good, Harry. I mean, none of it is good. But... but he was dealing with some deep, dark shit, that I would have sworn he'd never touch. I thought he had some moral high ground, but..." He looked back out into the trees. "But now I'm not so sure."

"Dark government stuff?"

He nodded. "Arming terrorists, supplying trade to both sides of wars. To the point where I don't know which side of terrorism he's on."

Holy shit.

"And there's something else. Something that..." He sighed. "Something that I can't get out of my head."

"What is it?"

"The password to access everything."

"Haemosu? The Korean sun god?"

Asher nodded and let out a long sigh. "There's a file in there called ?iro Savi?."

Harry didn't understand. "What is that? Is it a person? A place? Cheerosavick?"

"It's a name. A man's name. There's a photograph of birth records. Born in Sarajevo. He'd be thirty-six."

"Who is he?"

Asher's eyes met Harry's, and he whispered, "I can't be sure, but I think it's me."

Harry's heart fell through his stomach. "What? How?"

He shrugged. "?iro means sun. Yunho always called me the sun. I brightened his world, he'd said."

Harry couldn't quite get his head around it.

"It means he knew," Asher added quietly. "For years, a decade or more. He knew my name. My identity, the names of my parents, where I'm from, where I was born. He knew my nationality," Asher said, thumping his chest. "And he lied to me. He kept it from me."

Oh, fucking hell.

"Asher, baby. I... I don't know what to say. I'd like to say maybe he had his reasons, but there's no excuse."

"No, there's not." Asher sighed and looked back out the ruined building. "Did he keep it from me to control me? To keep me on his leash, without loyalty to a country, without a home." He shrugged. "I just don't know. "

"I'm so sorry," Harry whispered.

"Of all the people I thought would never hurt me."

"Maybe... maybe he has his reasons," Harry offered. "I'm not justifying it; I'm just saying I know he loves you. There has to be a reason he never told you, and when we find him and rescue him, you can ask him. If it's bad, if he's part of this mess and held it from you to string you along and hurt you, then I will kill him myself."

Asher gave the barest of nods. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Harry rubbed Asher's arms. "You will never have to find out."

"I'm scared, Harry," Asher admitted. "I can't remember the last time I was scared. Probably when I was here." He gestured to the broken building. "We're out of practice. We're too old for this. Once upon a time we were at the top of our game, and now I don't even know what our next move is. I always had Yunho to guide me, to send me intel, to get me anything I ever needed. And we don't have that anymore. We're on our own with no idea if we're on the right path. Everything has been a guess, at best."

"What we have is experience," Harry replied. "And we have each other. We are famous in this industry. People fear us. We are good at what we do."

"We were good at what we did. You said it yourself, I'm not the same person I was two years ago. Two years ago, I wouldn't have even blinked at a situation like this. Now..." He shook his head. "I second guess every single thing because I could lose you and it scares the fuck out of me. The fear, it freezes me. And in this game, if I hesitate for a nano second, I'm dead. Or worse, you are." His chin wobbled again. "And then what? I would have nothing. And you know, before I would have sworn that if something happened to you, I would watch this world burn. But honestly, I wouldn't have the will in me to do anything but eat a bullet myself."

"Baby, no."

"See? I'm not the same person. Not even close. Because I'm seriously considering just taking you home. Just getting the fuck out of here and going home, where we can live out our days in peace. I can't go back to this life, Harry. I just can't."

Harry shook his head. "They know where we live. They found us once, they'll find us again. We need to end this, and then we can live out our days in peace. Okay?"

"I'm scared," he whispered.

"I know. Me too."

Asher's eyes met Harry's. "Why does it feel like this is about me? Taking Yunho and Lucas, Daris said it was to lure me here. What if he's right?"

Harry pulled him back in for a hug, reluctant to admit he agreed with him. Because this did feel like that. Something was off about this whole thing.

But then Asher's phone buzzed in his pocket, the sound startling them both. He pulled it out to see Unknown on the screen.

"No one has this number," Asher said. "Except Yunho."

"Answer it."

He took the call, putting the audio on speaker, but he said nothing.

"Ah, Mr Asher Garin," a man said.

"Who the fuck is this?" Asher breathed.

"Is that any way to speak to me, stranac?"

Stranac.

Asher paled and almost dropped the phone .

"I have a friend here who wishes to speak to you."

The next voice they heard was familiar. And Korean. Harry couldn't understand what he said, but he understood the shouting that cut him off, and the muted thud and Yunho's pained groan that followed.

"Yunho," Asher whispered.

Asshole spoke again next. "You're very slow at this game, stranac. I expected better from you. I thought you'd have found us by now."

Stranac, the name Asher was given at the orphanage. It meant foreigner, and until he was four or five, he'd thought that was his name.

Harry wanted to reach into the phone and pull out this asshole's throat.

"Though I assume the little party at the ZBK compound was you. They found Rozga's body, by the way, in the tunnel. The media found out he was tortured. It's caused quite a stir, public panic about gangs and drugs and guns." He sighed. "Did he spill everything when you tortured him? Hm, I can only assume your boyfriend's with you because the torture really wasn't your style, stranac. You're more of a kill-from-a-distance kind of guy. Never did like getting your hands dirty."

"What do you want?" Asher asked, his voice cold.

"Bukovac. You know where. In two hours. Don't be late, and come alone. Or I'll do to your precious Yunho what you did to Rozga. Tell me, which tendon did you slice first?"

The phone went dead, and when Asher looked at Harry, the fire in his eyes was back.

"Who was that?" Harry asked. "He called you stranac."

"Alen Radovic," Asher said .

"He was here with you? At this place?" Harry nodded to the building through the fence.

Asher nodded. "At the orphanage, then here. He was one of the older boys. He was one of them that held me down and..." He flinched. "He was sadistic."

Harry's temper burned inside him like a raging beast. "Then we kill him first."

"First or last, as long as he suffers."

Oh, Harry had every intention of making him suffer. "What did Yunho say? I didn't quite catch what he said."

"He said, ‘Ojima hajima,' before he was cut off."

"What does that mean?"

"Don't come, don't do it. He was begging us not to come."

Fucking hell.

"Still want to go home?" Harry asked.

He had that blank look in his eyes now. "No."

"How far is it to Bukovac?" He checked his watch. "How much time do we have?"

Asher walked back to the Jeep. "Enough time to kick the hornets' nest first."