THE MAFIA DESIRE - SAVING MY BEST FRIEND | ONE-SHOT |LEE MINHO FT. JUNGKOOK

Part 2

LMH turned off the highway, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. The encounter had taken a toll on him, more than he wanted to admit. He needed a moment to gather himself, to think. The deserted streets offered little comfort, but at least he was alone, away from prying eyes and any more surprises that JK might have in store.

He finally spotted a secluded area — an old parking lot, cracked asphalt, and weeds sprouting through every available gap. He maneuvered his battered sports car into a shadowed corner, cutting the engine. The sudden silence was almost deafening. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and let out a long, shaky breath. His chest burned with every inhale, and his arms felt like lead. Pain radiated from his side where he had taken a particularly hard hit. He had fought off JK's men, but the toll was evident.

LMH: "Damn it..." he muttered to himself, rubbing his temples. "Why am I doing this?"

His mind flashed back to the fight, to the chaos, the gunfire, and the faces of the men who had come for him. He didn't expect them. He should have, but he didn't. He was lucky to be alive. He glanced down at his hands, still trembling slightly from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. "I almost died for her," he thought, his chest tightening at the idea of losing it all for Yn. But that thought quickly faded, replaced by a sense of determination. He wasn't backing down now — not after everything he'd been through.

He checked himself for injuries. Some scratches and cuts across his arms, a deep bruise on his ribs. "Could have been worse," he murmured, trying to ignore the dull ache spreading through his body. But his car had taken the brunt of the damage. He opened the door and stepped out, grimacing at the sight. The front was a mess, bullet holes riddled the sides, and the rear window was completely shattered. Glass crunched under his feet as he walked around the vehicle, assessing the full extent of the damage.

LMH: "Looks like I'll be needing a new one," he whispered bitterly. "But not today... Today, we fight back."

Determined, he reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out his phone. He scrolled through his contacts, landing on the first number on his speed dial. He pressed it, listening to the ring on the other end. A familiar gruff voice answered.

Jason: "Yeah, boss?"

LMH: "Jason, listen carefully. I'm at the old lot near Fifth and Main. Bring the crew — all of them. We're also going to need a lot of firepower. And bring a medkit... I've got a few cuts that need attention."

Jason chuckled, his tone carrying a mix of concern and amusement.

Jason: "Medkit? You're finally admitting you're not made of steel, LMH?"

LMH allowed himself a small smile, despite the pain.

LMH: "Just get here fast. And Jason... don't attract any attention. We've got enough problems as it is."

Jason: "Understood. We're on our way. Hang tight."

LMH ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket. He leaned against the car, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He had gone after JK, and now he was in the thick of it, no turning back. He closed his eyes again, but every time he did, he saw her face – Yn.

LMH: "I've got to see this through," he muttered to himself, as if saying it out loud would make it any easier. "I can't let him win."

Within minutes, he heard the sound of engines approaching. The convoy of unmarked black vehicles pulled into the lot, headlights cutting through the darkness. Jason, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a hard face and piercing eyes, was the first to step out. Behind him, a group of LMH's men – his father's old crew, the ones he had inherited – began fanning out, securing the perimeter.