FATE'S GAME | | BTS FF (18+)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

KIM TAEHYUNG

I've been called many things...
ruthless, emotionless, unbreakable.
But none of those words mean a damn thing when her voice still echoes in my head.

"Then why do I feel worse without you?"

It's been three days.

Three nights of avoiding her, of finding excuses to stay buried in surveillance reports and shipment ledgers that don't need me. Anything to drown out that question.

"Sir?" Namjoon's voice broke through the static of the radio. "We've got movement near Dock 47. Could be the Choudhary shipment."

I blinked, forcing myself back to focus. "I'm on it."

"Wait—"
But I cut the line before he could finish.

I didn't want backup.

The drive to the docks was short, the night heavy with salt and diesel. Wind whipped off the water, carrying the metallic scent of the sea and something else. Smoke.

I parked a block away, checking the weapon holster beneath my coat. My reflection stared back in the side mirror ...cold, composed, unreadable. The kind of man who doesn't hesitate.

The warehouse was half-lit, empty except for the echo of my footsteps and the flickering red light of a motion sensor. Every instinct in me screamed that something was wrong.

Too quiet. Too still.

My boots scraped softly against the concrete as I moved deeper inside, each quiet sound amplified by the hollow emptiness of the warehouse. Dust particles floated in the stale air, catching the faint light like drifting ash.

Somewhere above me, metal groaned.
Just once.
Just enough to make me pause.

I scanned the rafters......nothing.

I lifted my gun slightly higher.

I stepped around the nearest crate, staying low, checking the corners. A faint hum reached my ears machinery maybe, or the sound of something slowly powering up.

I crouched down, brushing my fingers along the concrete.

Warm.

Why the hell was the floor warm?

My jaw tightened.
This wasn't surveillance.
This wasn't a shipment.

I stood slowly, every muscle coiled.

Someone wanted me here.

A dull click echoed overhead.

I froze.

The warehouse lights snapped off all at once, plunging everything into thick, smothering darkness.

My pulse didn't spike but my grip on the gun tightened.  In the black, a distorted voice echoed through a hidden speaker, low and crackling with static:

"Right on time... Mr. Kim."

My blood ran cold.

They weren't watching the warehouse.
They were watching me.

The voice slithered through the darkness, mechanical and taunting.

"Did you really think you were the hunter tonight?"

My eyes adjusted slowly, catching faint outlines crates, steel beams, the ghost of my own shadow stretched long across the floor.

I didn't answer.
I never gave enemies the satisfaction.