Chapter 7

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The number of cigarettes he hammered these days would kill him, but times were tough, and Min Yoongi never really cared for society's condemnation of taboos

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The number of cigarettes he hammered these days would kill him, but times were tough, and Min Yoongi never really cared for society's condemnation of taboos.

He was perched on the bonnet of his car, the aluminium warming his backside as he glanced up at the apartment and watched shadows move behind the netted window. Tae awaited his arrival, but he needed a minute to process his thoughts, unsure of how to broach what had happened tonight.

Suga's recent encounter with Little-Miss-Yunhee had left him not only baffled, but somewhat alarmed, and no matter how many times he rewound the chain of events in his head, he couldn't for the life of him fathom it out.

It'd started four hours ago when he'd received a communication from a contact in Goyang. Sungho had informed him that a woman fitting Yunhee's description had been spotted again, this time driving south towards Gimpo.

As soon as he'd read the message, Suga had grabbed his keys and left the apartment before Tae could blink. His friend's persistence was admirable, but he had a strange inkling that his presence may aggravate the situation should they locate Yunhee.

He'd been right.

Suga had discovered the woman snooping around the warehouse where it had all begun.

Intrigued and rather mystified, he'd hung back, his feet nailed to the cracked concrete when she hurried into the deserted building. There were no other cars in sight, not a trace of sound escaping the structure, which begged the question: what the hell was Yunhee doing, and why was she alone?

Suga had waited for her to emerge, flicking his headlights off, and trailing her until she'd pulled into a gas station. He'd remained calm throughout his entire trip, but when he saw her carefree expression under the pit stop lights and the bounce in her step, an unimaginable storm brewed in his chest.

Two weeks of believing her to be dead. One week of her being home, alive and well, and not a single word to her friends?

Suga was out of the car before he could stop himself, collecting his ferocity and tucking it away when she skipped in his direction. He'd waited for her to spot him first, but when Yunhee's eyes met his and widened in unmistakable panic, he couldn't help but falter.

He thought he understood her plight; Yunhee was under duress, that was why she'd asked him to leave. That was why she'd declined his invitation to get in the car with him.

But her reaction. Her undeniable fear when she looked at him.

Drawing his cig between his dry lips, Suga cocked his head and stared blankly at the brickwork of the building.

He was no angel, his resting bitch face was enough to frighten puppies, but since the night Tae had swooped in and asked for her number, Hahm Yunhee had never been intimidated by him.

She was one of the few people in his life that knew Suga for what he truly was. She saw past the facade, peeking around the cold bastard exterior he'd built after his shit-infested childhood to see a vulnerable man who wore his heart on his sleeve.

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