Mr and Mrs Sim ⋆ s.jake

Chapter 22

Jaeyun's pov

My wife didn't leave her office for five days after returning from prison.

Of course I saw her for dinner, in the shower when I got the chance to spy, and before bed, but it wasn't enough. I needed more.

"Warner, I'm serious. Were you working the day Rose came?" This bastard thought it funny to grunt back at me. I squinted, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

The incessant cries of pain in my ears were joined by my phone's vibrations. I pulled the screen away and frowned; Nishimura had sent me messages. Smirk. When the devil has some bad news for you but is too busy, he sends his most faithful soldier—whore—to announce it.

"Ta gueule Warner." He understood French, which made things easier. The next moment, he cut off his microphone to give me a break.

I hesitantly clicked on the first notification. Behind me, Rose was preparing what I assumed was extra-vanilla coffee, and I wanted to join her. But my will, without hers, was worthless. I could've died if I wasn't given affection, and that's exactly what I felt happening, leaving me powerless.

Riki had left me four polite texts.

"Tonight, 11pm, the hills"
"Don't be late slut"
"Or I will stab you to deeath"
"Death*"

The threats in those words sounded significant. For the first time, I took him seriously, especially considering the burn on my skin. My breathing became heavier as the pain awoke in my nerves. He'd dared to touch me and damage the work of art I was. It made me sick.

"Rose dar—" She disappeared faster than a wildcat. I rolled my eyes. By the end of the day, I would end up on my knees.

I threw my phone on the living room table and sank into the sofa. The soft fabric brushed against my wound, reviving the uncomfortable tingles. I would've loved to wear a shirt, but my wife refused to iron them, so instead I showed off my abs through the windows. "Maintenant je t'écoute, Warner. Je veux connaître chaque détail et qui elle allait voir. Got it?"

He was no longer mute, yet he still didn't speak. No matter. I stared at the ceiling, my arm draped across my face. All around me, the air suddenly grew colder and foggier, as if an evil omen hovered over me.

"Warner!" I yelled.

Silencers have always been misleadingly named.

The metallic sound of something being cocked and fitted betrayed a sordid plan. If it was what I thought then... fuck. "Nishimura if it's you..."

I clenched my fists, powerless once again. In the background, I could hear Warner trying to speak but failing for the hundredth time. I think he wanted to tell me a name. And that's all I needed. After that, he could die—or spend years convalescing in Russia, for all I cared.

"Me, who else?" Riki retorted.

Pain in the ass. I grabbed my phone and cracked the bones in my neck. My hand tightened around it until the screen flickered. Why did he want to kill Warner in broad daylight with a silencer?

"Riki don—" I forced my voice to remain steady as if I were talking to a child and not a heartless hitman. But before I could finish, two shots were fired, the third one hitting the phone and cutting off the call abruptly. "FUCKING BASTARD!"

...

A little brown head that had been spying on me all this time ran upstairs. I sighed. She was getting on my nerves too, so I followed her.