Mine

Chapter 25

The bathroom door creaked open, steam spilling into the room like a haze of mystery. Jimin stepped out, the cool air hitting his damp skin, sending a shiver through his body. Droplets of water traced slow, deliberate paths down the hard ridges of his torso, glistening in the dim light. His hair, still wet from the shower, clung to his forehead, the rest falling in messy, damp strands around his face. A towel hung loosely around his hips, barely clinging to his form, the dangerous dip of his waist and the sharp cut of his hip bones teasing exposure.

He looked sinfully beautiful. The kind of beauty that stopped hearts, turned heads, and made even the most indifferent feel something—whether they wanted to or not.

As he moved, the soft glow of the bedside lamp cast shadows along the ink stretched across his ribs. Nevermind. The word was etched in delicate, sharp lettering, a whisper of defiance inked into his skin. It stood in contrast to the smooth planes of his torso, an unspoken story wrapped in a single word. A choice, a regret, a warning—no one truly knew what it meant except him.

His movements were languid, almost lazy, as he walked toward the room fridge, the cool air from the open door brushing against his fever-warmed skin. He grabbed a can of beer, popping it open with a sharp hiss, the sound slicing through the silence like a promise of things to come.

Taking a slow sip, he turned, his eyes catching the dim glow of the table in the corner of the room. The case. It sat there, unassuming, but he knew exactly what it held—everything he needed, everything he wanted. The weight of it was more than just physical. It was his key to freedom. Freedom from the weight of not being enough.

He walked over to the couch, his steps casual, but every movement seemed deliberate, like a predator circling its prey. He sank into the plush cushions, manspreading, his body taking up more space than it should, as if daring the world to notice. He tilted his head back, the beer bottle resting on his lips as his eyes lazily traced the outline of the case.

His fingers tightened around the can as he stared at it, the weight of what it represented settling deep within him. The job wasn't over, not by a long shot, but tonight? Tonight he'd savor the moment.

Jimin's gaze lingered on the case for a moment longer, but something else caught his eye. Hanging loosely from the handle, there was a glint of something shiny, a shimmer that caught the low light of the room. His brows knitted together as he squinted, his curiosity piqued.

Without thinking, he reached forward, setting the beer can down on the coffee table with a soft clink. His fingers brushed against the cold metal of the case before they landed on the delicate object hanging from the handle.

It was a bracelet. Or, what was left of one. The once intricate links were broken, scattered like shattered dreams. He turned it over in his fingers, examining the fractured beauty of it.

How come this tag alone? Whom could it belong to? He hadn't been with any woman-

His mind immediately shot back to the moments of the evening—the chaotic rush, the adrenaline pumping through his veins. The way she had grabbed onto the case struggling to take it away, before he yanked it away. Though their faces were completely obscured he knew that she had looked at him with rage and frustration. It was desperation, like she knew the stakes, like she knew this could happen.

Jimin's grip on the broken bracelet tightened as memories of the chase came rushing back. The sound of the SUV's engine, the screeching tires, the way he'd led them into the alleys, every step calculated. And, he hadn't expected the rival to cover his back while he deceived at the end. Of course, the case was more important than everything else.

He turned the bracelet over in his hands, the small box-like charm dangling from the broken chain catching his attention. Something about it felt odd, as if it held a secret that hadn't been revealed yet. His fingers traced the delicate lines of the box, feeling the weight of it shift in his palm. He tugged gently at the broken chain, and the little charm detached, falling into his hand with a soft clink.