Who Killed my Boyfriend |Hyunho|

Tattoo✨

My name will be tattooed in your heart,
Etched in your soul, never to depart.
In every beat, in every sigh,
A mark of love that will never die.
Bound by ink, bound by fate,
Forever mine, your love innate.

✨.....................................✨

Hyunjin's POV:

I woke up tired after a nap, my body still aching. Groggily, I rubbed my eyes and stretched, feeling the weight of exhaustion in every muscle. As I blinked my eyes open, I was startled to find Minho standing near the bed, his gaze fixed on me.

"What kind of freak are you?" I snapped, my voice laced with anger and surprise.

He remained unfazed, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he threw a black suit onto the bed. "Get ready. I'll wait for you in the car," he said curtly, ignoring my question as he turned and left the room.

I let out a frustrated sigh, pushing myself up from the bed. My heart was still racing from the sudden encounter. I glanced at the suit, its sleek, dark fabric a stark contrast to the chaos in my mind. Determined not to let Minho rattle me, I stood up and walked to the bathroom.

The cool water from the sink was refreshing as I splashed it on my face, washing away the remnants of sleep. I stared at my reflection, noting the dark circles under my eyes and the tension etched into my features. I couldn't afford to show any weakness tonight. Not in front of Minho or the others.

After drying my face, I returned to the bedroom and examined the suit. It was impeccably tailored, clearly chosen to make an impression. I slipped into the crisp white shirt, buttoning it up carefully, and then pulled on the suit pants, feeling the fabric hug my legs. The jacket fit perfectly, its weight reassuring on my shoulders.

I took a moment to adjust the collar and cuffs, ensuring everything was in place. The reflection staring back at me in the mirror looked more composed, more in control. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever awaited me tonight.

As I grabbed my phone, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that Minho's presence had stirred in me. His cold demeanor, his authoritative commands—they were all part of the game he was playing. But I had my own game to play, and I wasn't going to back down.

I left the room and headed downstairs, my footsteps echoing in the silent house. The anticipation was palpable, a mixture of excitement and dread hanging in the air.

As I passed by my brother's room, I glanced in and saw him asleep, his face peaceful and undisturbed. It was a stark contrast to the turmoil inside me. I continued down the stairs, each step a reminder of the chaos I needed to control.

When I stepped outside, the cool night air hit my face, grounding me.

Minho was already in the car, waiting. He wore an all-black suit that clung to his form perfectly, exuding an air of lethal elegance. The crisp lines of his suit, the subtle sheen of the fabric under the car's interior lights, and the way he wore it with effortless confidence made it impossible not to admire him. His expression was as inscrutable as ever, but I could sense the impatience in his posture.

I climbed into the passenger seat, closing the door behind me with a sense of finality. The leather seat was cool against my skin, and I could smell the faint scent of Minho's cologne—a mix of something woody and spicy that suited him perfectly.

"Where are the others?" I asked, trying to focus on the task at hand.

"Everyone has preceded us there and they are waiting for us," he answered, starting the car with a smooth, practiced motion. His hands on the steering wheel were steady, and I couldn't help but notice the contrast between the black leather and his pale skin. As we drove into the night, I couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead. The ritual, the initiation—whatever it was, I knew it would test me in ways I couldn't yet imagine.