wounded

Ahana's POV

Loud gunshots. Screeching tires. Falling. No—!

I jolted awake, gasping for air. My heart thundered in my chest, the fragments of my nightmare—or was it reality?—burning in my mind. It wasn't just a bad dream; it was real. All of it. But how did I get here? Where even was here?

The room was enormous, eerily quiet, and suffocatingly unfamiliar. I sat up, my throat dry like a desert. A glass of water sat on the bedside table, and I gulped it down in one go. As I turned to get a better look at my surroundings, I choked on my spit.

He was there.

Dressed in a white t-shirt, damp with sweat from his workout, it clung to his perfectly sculpted body, giving a clear view of his toned abs. I blinked, trying to steady my breathing. Focus, Ahana. Breathe.

"What place is this, and why am I here?" I asked, my voice hoarse yet firm.

He didn't even flinch. No response. It was like I wasn't even there.

Frustrated, I repeated myself louder. "Where am I?"

Still nothing.

He grabbed a towel and some clothes from the cupboard, walking toward the bathroom. My irritation bubbled over. "Excuse me! I'm talking to you! Why aren't you replying to me?"

He stopped mid-step, turned, and walked toward me, his presence commanding. His hazel eyes locked onto mine, intense and unyielding. He bent down, his face inches from mine, his voice cold and low.

"You're being loud for no reason."

I scoffed, leaning back instinctively. "I have to be, because you're ignoring me."

Straightening up, he replied with maddening calmness, "You're in one of my penthouses, far from the city."

"And the people from yesterday?" I ventured cautiously.

"No need to worry. It's just you and me here."

My heart skipped a beat. You and me? Before I could react, he disappeared into the bathroom, leaving me flustered and confused.

I walked toward the window, the cool breeze brushing against my skin, hoping it would calm my nerves. Below, a car pulled up. My stomach clenched. Was it one of the attackers? My mind raced as the door opened. Relief flooded me when I saw his secretary step out, carrying bags.

A knock on the door startled me. It was the secretary.

"Hello, I'm Jung Sung-il. There are some dresses and essentials in these bags," he said, handing them over.

"Thank you, Mr. Jung," I replied politely. "But… when are we leaving?"

"You should ask Mr. Ryu about that," he said with a slight bow. "This is your breakfast." He left before I could ask anything more.

After freshening up, I slipped into a baby pink knee-length dress. As I stepped out of the washroom, he was standing there, drying his hair. Our eyes met in the mirror, and I quickly looked away, heat rising to my cheeks.

---

Aksh's POV

"Get me the names of everyone in that black car. I want them in an hour," I barked into the phone, pacing furiously.

This was the fourth attack in two months, and this time, it had gone too far. She could have been shot. I clenched my fists, my jaw tightening.

"Sir, the police are investigating," Jung said gently, concern etched on his face.

"Police?" I snapped. "They've done nothing. I'm not waiting for them to stumble onto a clue. I'll handle this myself."

Jung sighed, his expression pained. "I understand your frustration. Just… don't hurt yourself again. Maybe check on her. She's probably awake now."

His words softened me, though I didn't let it show. He'd been like a father to me, but his gentle reminder sent a ripple of warmth through my otherwise cold heart.

I walked back to my room, where I found her standing by the window, sunlight dancing across her face. She was lost in thought, unaware of my presence. When she turned, her eyes widened in surprise, and a faint blush painted her cheeks.

Do I really affect her that much?

When she spoke, demanding answers, her voice was laced with frustration and innocence. I couldn't help but tease her. Watching her grow more irritated, her cheeks flushing deeper, stirred something foreign in me—something I didn't want to name.

When she reappeared later in that dress, I was stunned. She looked ethereal. Her wet hair clung to her shoulders, her delicate features glowing. She caught my gaze in the mirror, but quickly looked away.

I didn't.

I couldn't.

Mr. Jung's POV

As I watched him pace the room, his face darkened with anger and determination, I felt a familiar pang of concern. Aksh had always carried too much on his shoulders, a burden that was slowly chipping away at him. These attacks had pushed him to the edge, and I feared what he might do.

"Police will find something, surely. You don't have to get involved in all this," I said, trying to calm him. "I don't want you to get hurt again."

He turned to me sharply. "Police? They're useless. Two months, and not a single clue. I can't just sit here while they waste time."

I sighed. He was right, of course. The system had failed him before, and he had no reason to trust it now. But that didn't mean I wasn't worried for him. "It's fine," I said quietly. "I'll support whatever you do. Just don't hurt yourself, child. You've been through enough."

I hesitated, then added, "Maybe check on her. She must be awake by now."

His eyes softened ever so slightly at the mention of her. It was a fleeting moment, but I caught it—a glow in his expression that reminded me of a time long past. It had been years since I'd seen him react this way to anyone.

Whoever this girl was, I realized, she was going to become his priority. She might even be the one to thaw his cold, guarded heart.

And maybe, just maybe, she would bring back the emotions he had buried so deeply.

---

Author's POV

For years, Aksh's heart had been a fortress, cold and impenetrable. But now, cracks were beginning to form, and she was the reason.

He didn't know why, but he didn't want to stop looking at her. The emotions she stirred terrified him, yet he couldn't resist them. She could heal his wounds—or deepen them.

And that was the risk he feared the most.