Jisung hated waking up after passing out. It was always so disorienting. He groaned as he rubbed his face and flinched at the pinch of pain in his arms. White bandages covered both of his arms from his elbows to his wrists, and he could feel the uncomfortable itch of a bandage on his left temple. He let his arms fall on either side of him as he let his eyes adjust to the low lighting of his room.
“Three hours. That’s a new record.”
Jisung glanced over to see Chan leaning in the doorway. “I couldn’t have been out for three hours, my injuries weren’t that bad.”
“They were. Lack of nutrition and a good amount of blood loss can do that.” Chan slowly approached him and motioned to the nightstand at the side of the bed. “There’s water there. You need to hydrate.”
Knowing there was no room for argument, Jisung sat up and took the cool glass. “So what the hell happened back there? Did Changbin make it out?”
Chan sat on the edge of the bed. “Binnie is fine. As for what happened, we still don’t really know. One moment you were going after Lee Minho, and the next we lost all connection to each other. Felix lost eyes and everything. He had to come get us. I went looking for you when I sent them to grab the car.” Chan carefully studied him up and down. “What happened on you end?”
Jisung didn’t want to tell him. It was honestly a bit embarrassing that he was caught so easily. He was the informant of Nightfield, and yet he was in the palm of the enemy’s hand. “Is that… important? Right now?”
His leader crossed his arms and raised a dark eyebrow, telling him to continue. He needed every detail when it came to failed missions.
“I guess it is,” Jisung muttered, setting his glass of water to the side. “I was… tied down. Questioned by Minho. As soon as I broke free the first explosion happened.”
Chan’s dark eyes turned calculating. “Did he get anything out of you?”
“Only blood.” Jisung held his arms up in emphasis. That simple movement sent tight flashes of pain through his muscles.
“Good.” Chan pushed to his feet. “It’s late, get rest. We’ll assess everything in the morning. I’ll send out a time. Do your best not to be late, okay?”
“Is it just you here or are the doctors still here?”
“They left an hour ago. You’re lucky those cuts are so shallow, so there are no pain meds today, just water.”
Jisung nodded. He never liked taking pain medication, it made parts of his brain numb and he was always nauseous. Being stuck with only water was for the best. “Thank you, Chan.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Chan dipped his head in farewell, and then left.
Jisung didn’t move until he heard his front door shut. His skin prickled oddly as he turned his gaze back to the ceiling. He absently trailed his fingers over the bandage on his left arm. Everything about tonight felt off center from the moment the mission began. He wasn’t sure what about it was off, but as he sat there staring at his bedroom ceiling, he felt as if there was much more to this than anyone thought.
Minho’s face flashed in his vision, tilting his head and smiling as he brandished a knife.
Jisung shook the image away and slowly got to his feet. The room swayed a little once he was up, and he used the wall as support as he moved across his apartment to the front door. He slid four locks into place and left the fifth one unlocked. If someone tried picking the locks, they would quickly become frustrated when they failed over and over to unlock them all.
The other members of Nightfield questioned Jisung on why he chose to live in a small apartment rather than on the estate with the rest of them, but they wouldn’t understand why he did. Having something separate from the life of bullets and smoke was something he needed. His job was thrilling and exciting, but it weighed on his shoulders.
Jisung shuffled into the kitchen and searched his cabinets for some tea. The shelves were embarrassingly empty. The fridge was no different. He hated shopping, but he was in need of a restock. As he brewed the last bit of tea he could find, something sent a chill up his spine. A cold pressure built up in the back of his mind.
He went still, eyes scanning the small area of his home. Everything was still and quiet, like the room was holding its breath. His fingers brushed the gun he had stashed under the counter top.
The AC clicked on, making his body jolt slightly. The creeping feeling vanished.
I’m losing it.
Jisung drank his tea and fell into bed after making sure his windows were locked. He drifted away the moment his body relaxed.
⧫⧫⧫
The room was white and static. Unfamiliar yet… very familiar. The light above his head was blinding. It burned into his eyes and froze his skin. A figure, blurred and distant loomed over him.
Jisung flexed his arms. They were bound at his sides, trapped against cold, unforgiving metal. Panic gripped his throat. “Don’t!”
“It’s for the best.” The voice was warbled, like a voice drowned by waves. Harsh hands pulled his head back. A needle, glinting and sharp, descended to his throat.
“No!”
Jisung’s eyes flew open. His bedroom ceiling stared back at him, his arms burdened by bandages, not restraints. He rubbed his face and realized how heavily he was breathing, how hard his heart was beating. He couldn’t remember the last time he dreamed like that.
A sound rose above that of his heartbeat, and he glanced to the side. His phone was vibrating with a call. “Oh crap.” He grabbed it and answered as he staggered to his feet.
“I’m up, I’m up, I’m sorry.”
Changbin sighed from the other end. “We wouldn’t worry about you showing up on time today, but we just got a message. From Lee Minho.”
Jisung nearly fell on his face as he pulled on a pair of pants. “What? When?”
“Just a minute ago. Get here fast, Chan is weird and wound up.”
“Be there in twenty.” Jisung threw his phone to the side. He ran his hand through his silvery hair a few times and brushed his teeth haphazardly. A message from Minho? Was he taunting them? Was he threatening them? Asking to meet?
Two minutes later, Jisung was out the door, neatly put together on the outside but frazzled and jittery on the inside. He faced plenty of danger in his time, but something about Lee Minho was unsettling. Was it his vaguely familiar face? Was it his cold smile as he drew blood from an unarmed man?
The meeting room at the estate was tense and stiff as Jisung pushed his way in. He was immediately tempted to turn around and leave, but the face projected on the screen stopped him. Minho’s cold eyes kept him in place even though it was just an image.
All eyes were on Jisung as he sat down. “What’s this about?”
Chan motioned to one of the techs. “Display the message.”
The image of Minho came to life. “As charming as it is to have the great Nightfield’s attention, I don’t care for it. Last night was a disaster, I’m sure you would agree. Someone crashed your whole operation, and in turn, crashed mine. You’ve all gotten caught up in something bigger than you, bigger than the mafia.
“But I’m here to bargain. Everything you built will fall into ruin if you get involved in this, but I can save you that trouble. On one condition.”
Jisung wasn’t sure if he was breathing. Minho’s eyes somehow seemed to land on him.
“Give me Han Jisung. Then, and only then, will this disaster disappear.” He winked. “Think about it.”
Jisung’s lungs froze, his heart shrank. “Me?” he whispered, unaware of saying it out loud.
Chan’s eyes were on him again, no longer warm as they usually were. “What really happened last night, Han?”
He flinched. “I told you the truth. He asked me why we were tracking him, I didn’t give him anything and that was it.”
“Then why the interest?”
“I don’t know!” Jisung was on his feet now, body tense and heated. “I saw him for the first time last night. Maybe he’s a psycho, or a pervert, I don’t know!”
A hand landed on his arm softly. Felix. “Take a breath,” he murmured.
Jisung didn’t look away from his don, who’s eyes were frigid. “Do you want me to prove something? Is that it?”
Chan let out a heavy sigh, bracing his hands on the table. “I’m sorry, Jisung. Nothing has gone right since the moment we had eyes on Minho, and I don’t know what to think anymore.”
The air was tense, shaky, as the rest of the members kept their eyes down.
“How do we know he’s telling the truth?” Jisung finally asked. “We’re in the mafia, we’re used to danger and mess. What could be bigger than what we’ve already dealt with?”
Something was… wrong. The others were sharing glances between one another, glances Jisung couldn’t understand. It was as if everyone knew something he didn’t. Even Felix and Changbin shared these glances.
Jisung locked up. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Even the mafia has something to fear,” Chan spoke softly, but not quietly. “This is something we cannot take lightly.”
Something in Jisung’s blood was telling him to run, to disappear. “So, what, you’re going to hand me over?”
“We wouldn’t do that to you, Jisung. But… we can’t protect you, either.” Chan’s eyes were low with regret, his shoulders tucked down.
A fist of burning iron clamped around Jisung’s heart. “You want me to-“
“Leave.”
He watched the faces of the other members. They’d agreed to this. They’d talked about it before he was even present. His chest burned, his limbs froze. “Where?” he whispered.
“Anywhere that isn’t here. We can take you-“
Jisung turned and fled the room before his leader- or former leader- could finish. Changbin’s voice called his name, but he hardly heard it. The halls stretched on forever in front of him, the floor sagged below his feet. Everything inside him burned and froze at the same time.
Nightfield, the only family he knew, the ones that saved him from a frozen street years ago, were throwing him out at the first sign of danger. Was this better than handing him over? Was this supposed to hurt less? He didn’t have the answers. He didn’t have the answers to anything.
—————– Another chapter down. BTW, dreams won’t be in italics, but memories and internal thoughts will be. In case anyone gets confused 🙂 Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading (*_*)
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