Ayla stepped out of the dimly lit bar. The night air was cool, carrying the distant hum of the city—cars passing by, muffled conversations, the occasional burst of laughter from a nearby alley. She had barely taken a few steps when a voice stopped her.

"Ayla."

She halted mid-step. The voice was unmistakable—firm, steady, and tinged with something almost unreadable. Turning, she found herself face to face with Kim Da-eun.

Kim stood tall, her expression composed as always, but Ayla knew her well enough to catch the subtle tension in her posture. Beside her was Chozen Toguchi, arms crossed, his sharp gaze scanning the street as if expecting danger to emerge from the shadows.

For a long moment, Ayla and Kim simply stared at each other. The last time they had spoken, it hadn't ended well.

"You've been avoiding me," Kim finally said.

Ayla scoffed. "No. You just haven't been looking hard enough."

Kim exhaled, shaking her head. "You left Cobra Kai without a word.And you did the same with Miyagi Do"

"You expected a resignation letter?" Ayla shot back. "It's not exactly that kind of place."

"I expected you to tell me," Kim corrected, her voice controlled, but firm. "I trained you. I thought I meant more than that."

Ayla clenched her jaw. That was the thing—Kim did mean more than that. She had been there after Ayla's mother died, pushing her, training her, making sure she never let grief swallow her whole. But Ayla wasn't about to admit that.
She was her mother best friend .

Kim's expression didn't change, but Ayla saw something flicker in her eyes.

Before the tension could build further, Chozen spoke. "John Kreese was behind Daniel's kidnapping."

Kim turned to him, frowning. "That's a serious accusation."

"It's the truth," Chozen insisted. "You trained under him. You know how he thinks."

Kim's gaze was unreadable, but there was the slightest shift in her stance. "Kreese is many things," she said slowly, "but he's not reckless. Kidnapping someone like Daniel LaRusso? That's a risk, even for him."

Ayla let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, please. The man literally faked his own death and scammed his way out of prison. You really think he has limits?"

Kim ignored her, keeping her focus on Chozen. "If you're so sure, where's your proof?"

Chozen's response was a glance across the street. "There."

A man was walking briskly down the sidewalk, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. Chozen's entire body went rigid, his jaw tightening.

"I recognize him," he muttered. "That man was there the night Daniel was taken."

Ayla, Kim, and Chozen exchanged looks. Then, without another word, they followed.

The man turned down a side street, moving with purpose before slipping through the doors of a luxury hotel. Inside, the lobby gleamed with wealth—polished floors, golden chandeliers, an air of exclusivity that felt out of place for the business they were about to bring inside.

Ayla watched as Chozen reached for his phone, dialing quickly.

"Let me guess," she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Calling LaRusso?"

Chozen didn't answer, but the set of his jaw told her everything she needed to know.

Then, something caught her attention. Kim, subtly pulling out her own phone. Ayla arched an eyebrow.

"Are you serious?" she muttered. "You're calling Kreese?"

Kim didn't respond immediately, but after a long pause, she slipped her phone back into her pocket. "You don't understand the full picture, Ayla."

Ayla folded her arms. "Oh, right. Because the man who taught me to fight and the woman who practically raised me have been so honest about their plans up until now."

Kim's gaze softened for just a second before she shut it down again. "If you had stayed, you would understand why I do what I do."

Ayla stared at her, something bitter curling in her chest. "Maybe I didn't want to understand."

Before Kim could reply, the doors to the hotel swung open again. Daniel LaRusso stepped inside, his shoulders tense, eyes scanning the room—until they landed on Ayla.

For a moment, he hesitated, his expression unreadable, but the discomfort was obvious. Ayla didn't say a word. Neither did he.

Then, another presence entered. John Kreese.

The air turned thick with tension as five figures stood in the elegant lobby—each one carrying a different past, different loyalties, and too many unresolved grudges.

Ayla leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. "So," she said, smirking slightly, "what now? Do we pretend this isn't a disaster waiting to happen, or do we start punching each other here and now?"

No one had an answer—not yet.

The hallway stretched ahead, empty and silent except for their footsteps. The air felt thick, the kind of silence that pressed against the skin, warning of something unseen lurking just beyond reach. The man they were following moved with purpose, his head slightly ducked as he turned a corner into an even quieter, dimly lit corridor.

Ayla, still feeling the pleasant buzz of alcohol warming her veins, walked with an easy stride between Chozen and Kim. She wasn't drunk—just loose enough to let sarcasm roll off her tongue effortlessly.

Chozen was tense, his sharp gaze locked on their target ahead. Kim was unreadable, her face composed, but Ayla had spent too many years around her not to notice the slight stiffness in her posture. She was piecing something together.

And then—

"Well done. You really scared them."

The voice came from the side, smooth, mocking.

Ayla turned just as a figure emerged from the shadows near a slightly open door—Wolf.

He leaned lazily against the frame, arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable except for the slight amusement flickering in his eyes.

Chozen stiffened, his stance shifting slightly, ready for anything. Kim, as always, remained composed, though her gaze sharpened.

"Sensei Wolf." Daniel's voice was surprised ,. "You send this man after me, why?"

Wolf didn't answer right away. Instead, his eyes flickered over the group before inevitably settling on her.

Ayla met his gaze with a smirk, her dark eyes gleaming with mischief from the alcohol and the thrill of whatever mess they were stepping into. She still wore the same black dress from earlier, the fitted fabric hugging her in all the right places.

Wolf let his gaze drag over her, slower this time, like he was memorizing every inch of her. The way the dress clung to her curves, the way the slit at the side teased just enough skin.

Damn.

He wanted to rip that dress off.

No—first, he wanted to feel it. To let his hands slide over the soft material, gripping her waist, her hips. He wanted to press her against the wall, hear that sharp little gasp she made when caught off guard. He imagined the way her breath would hitch when he ran his fingers up her thigh, how easily she'd melt into him.

Ayla arched an eyebrow. "Like what you see?"

Wolf smirked but didn't respond.

Kim cut through the tension with a sharp voice. "Where is he?"

Wolf tilted his head slightly, his amusement lingering. "You already know, don't you?"

Kim's jaw clenched, but she didn't reply.

Chozen, ever direct, pushed past Wolf, moving deeper into the suite.

Ayla followed, not missing the way Wolf's gaze lingered on her a second too long before he fell into step behind them.

The room they entered was lavish—high ceilings, expensive furniture, dim golden lighting casting shadows across the space. Everything about it screamed wealth and excess. And yet, despite its size, none of them had noticed him at first.

Terry Silver.

He was right there.

Relaxased comfortably in a hot tub, legs crossed, a cigar in one hand. He looked entirely at ease, like he had been waiting for this moment.

Chozen stiffened immediately, his hands balling into fists. Kim took a slow, controlled breath.

Ayla, however, let out a low whistle.

"Wow," she drawled. "Didn't realize we walked onto the set of a Bond villain movie."

Silver chuckled, taking a slow sip of his drink before finally meeting her gaze. "Ayla. Always a pleasure."

She tilted her head slightly, her smirk never faltering. "Can't say the same, but points for the dramatic setup."

Kim's voice cut through the exchange. "You," she said, eyes locked onto Silver. "You're the reason she left Cobra Kai, and then Miyagi-Do"

Ayla rolled her eyes, leaning casually against the armrest of a nearby couch. "Oh, come on, Kim. Give me some credit. I make my own bad decisions."that was the alcohol , no doubt about it.

Silver's smirk widened slightly. "Bad? I'd hope you're not regretting it already."

Ayla shot him a look but didn't reply.

Wolf, still lingering near the doorway, was silent, his gaze flickering between Silver and Ayla. He wasn't watching them the way Chozen and Kim were. No, he was watching her.

Even now, with all the tension in the room, with enemies and alliances shifting like unstable ground beneath them, all he could think about was her.

The way that dress moved when she walked.

The way her lips curved when she was amused.

The way he wanted to get her alone, away from all of this.

Because right now, she was playing it cool—masking whatever emotions lay beneath with sarcasm and bravado. But later?

Later, he'd make sure she had nothing to hide behind.

And when that dress finally came off, he had a feeling she'd be even more dangerous than she was now.