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‧₊˚✧JUNGKOOK's POV ✧˚₊‧
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of crimson and violet, I stepped out of the colossal glass façade of my office building, the chill of autumn biting at my skin. My mind was still entangled in the affairs of the day—the deals closed, the threats averted—but beneath that steely exterior lay an unsettling emptiness. I pulled my phone from my pocket, my heart pounding slightly as I unlocked it and searched for her name.
Nothing. No texts, no missed calls. The weight of dread settled heavily in my chest.
"boss!" One of my men called out, but I waved him off, my gaze still fixed on the screen. I scrolled through my messages, praying for even a simple "I love you" or a random meme that reminded her of me. Instead, the blank screen mocked me, a stark reminder of her absence in my otherwise calculated world.
Yet now, there was nothing but silence.
I shoved my phone back into my pocket and moved toward my car, the hum of the city surrounding me. Every streetlight seemed too bright, every sound too loud. The tension thrummed through me, urging me into action. I could feel impatience clawing at me, the overwhelming need to find her, to know that she was okay.
As I climbed into the back seat, I barked at my driver, "Take me home."
The car merged into the evening traffic, and I felt a surge of frustration mounting within me. What if something had happened? What if she was caught up in something I couldn't protect her from? I gripped the leather seat, my mind racing through worst-case scenarios. I tried to focus on the streets outside, but all I could see were flashes of her smile—the way it lit up her entire face, the way it was my anchor in this chaotic life.
I fished my phone out again, willing it to come alive with her name. Still nothing. Anxiety twisted in my stomach. I could have been handling this calmly, making calls to my connections, deploying men to track her down, but the thought of involving anyone else repulsed me. This was supposed to be our life, our fight together.
Finally, the car pulled up in front of our building, and I leaped out before it even fully stopped. The heavy oak doors swung open with a weight that echoed through the somber halls of my mansion. I stepped inside, the air thick with tension and the familiar scent of polished wood and leather.
I turned the corner into the spacious living room, my heart quickening with an instinctual alarm. Everything felt wrong. The walls felt closer, the shadows darker. And then I saw her.
Y/N stood there, a wild tempest of emotions painted across her tear-streaked face. Her hair fell wildly across her shoulders, and in her trembling hands, she clutched a gun—a sleek Beretta aimed directly at my forehead. My breath caught in my throat, and I felt the chill of an icy hand close around my heart.
