shot

Ahana's POV:

I stepped out of the room feeling awkward, his gaze making my skin tingle. Clearing my throat, I waited for him to speak. Instead, he switched off the hair dryer, and I shifted my focus everywhere but on him.

I'd spent the entire day in his penthouse, bored and restless. There was no way to contact my roommates since we were technically in hiding. The isolation felt suffocating.

Craving something sweet, I headed to the kitchen for water. The soft clicks of a keyboard drew my attention. He was seated at the table, working, his godlike features illuminated by the screen's glow. I tried to ignore how effortlessly handsome he looked and went back to my search.

When I opened the refrigerator, it was like discovering a hidden treasure—vanilla ice cream. Grinning, I grabbed it and searched for a place to sit. The kitchen island was too high, and after a few failed attempts, I gave up, deciding to return to my room.

As I turned, ice cream in hand, I collided with something solid. My heart leaped when I realized it was him. Wasn't he working just a second ago?

Before I could move aside, he took the ice cream from my hand and set it on the counter. Then, without a word, he lifted me effortlessly and placed me on the kitchen island. My heart raced like crazy. Even the ice cream beside me seemed to melt in embarrassment.

He scooped a spoonful, ate it, then set the spoon down, his eyes locking with mine for a long, heated moment. Just as suddenly as he'd appeared, he left, leaving me flustered and questioning my sanity.

As I sat there enjoying the ice cream, replaying the moment in my head, the sound of breaking glass jolted me. My blood froze. I hesitated, but curiosity drove me to the dark hallway where the sound had come from.

And then I saw them—the same men who had attacked before. My breath hitched. Panic surged through me, but I couldn't risk making a sound. I stepped back, trembling, when a hand suddenly clamped over my mouth.

My scream was muffled.

"It's me. Calm down." His voice was low and firm. Relief washed over me, and I almost collapsed into him.

He dragged me behind a curtain, crouching low. His breath fanned my face, and the intensity in his eyes made my heart pound for a different reason.

"Stay here," he whispered, ready to leave.

But fear held me frozen. I clutched his shirt tightly. "Don't go."

For a moment, he stared at me, his expression softening. "Then hold on tighter," he said.

Bullets rained as he moved, shielding me with his body. My world narrowed to him—his strength, his determination. Trusting him felt natural, even as chaos erupted around us.

Suddenly, he stopped and pulled a gun from a hidden cabinet. Placing one hand on my shoulder to keep me behind him, he began to fire back.

"Take my phone," he ordered, his voice steady despite the danger. "Call Mr. Jung and tell him it's an emergency."

I fumbled in his pocket, my hands shaking as I made the call. His calmness in the storm kept me grounded.

We moved to hide behind a cupboard, his grip on my hand reassuring. Then I saw it—a reflection in the glass. A man was aiming at him. My heart stopped.

"Behind you!" I screamed, but it was too late. On instinct, I pushed him aside, the bullet grazing my arm instead of his chest.

Pain seared through me as blood soaked my sleeve, but before I could process it, another shot rang out. The man aiming at him fell to the ground.

More gunshots echoed, followed by the sound of reinforcements arriving. Mr. Jung. Relief surged through me, but my vision blurred, and everything went black.

---

When I woke, the room was dark. The moonlight poured in through the window, revealing him sitting across the room. He looked different—tense, conflicted. His hands gripped a gun, his knuckles pale.

"Why did you do that?" His voice cut through the silence.

I blinked, trying to gather my thoughts. "Do what?"

He stood, crossing the room in two quick strides. "You know what I mean." His eyes locked onto mine, his frustration palpable.

"I didn't know what to do," I stammered. "You could've been killed!"

"And you thought jumping in front of a bullet was the answer?" His voice was low and angry, yet there was something else—something raw—beneath it.

"I—I didn't think," I admitted, lowering my head.

i saved him and instead of saying thankyou he is scolding me who the hell he thinks he is right now I wanted to knock him out but

He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. His face was inches from mine, his intensity making the air between us feel heavier. "If you ever do that again…" He trailed off, his voice thick with emotion.

"What?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "What will you do?"

Without warning, he leaned in. His lips met mine in a kiss that stole my breath, silencing every question in my mind.