Blonde guy

Han's POV

I stepped out of my office, the heavy silence shattered by the urgent shouts of my bodyguards. Then, a phone rang.

"Sir, you have a call." One of them handed it to me.

I placed it against my ear. "Hello?"

"The chip has been created."

Alariel's voice was as cold as ever, cutting straight to the point. "We're already shipping it to Russia as we speak. We need you to meet us there."

"I'm on my way," I said without hesitation.

The call ended abruptly, and we continued walking. As we moved through the building, I noticed an unusual number of people coming and going employees and random people who had no business being here.

"This is a tech company, not a fashion gala," I muttered, my irritation growing.

One of my bodyguards answered, "We're hiring, sir."

I nodded absentmindedly, but my attention was caught by a blonde guy near the coffee machine. His hair glinted under the fluorescent lights, and his blue eyes stood out even from a distance. His shirt was soaked in coffee, an unfortunate mess.

"Idiot," I muttered, rolling my eyes and moving on.

We had barely walked a few steps when my phone rang again. Another guard handed it to me.

"The shipment's been intercepted. Our plane was attacked. Do not— I repeat, do not—come to the airport. Get to the nearest safe location immediately."

"What?" My grip on the phone tightened. "What do you mean attacked?"

"They're after the chip."

My blood ran cold.

"Don't let those bastards lay a hand on it," I snapped. "I'm coming."

"Sir, don't"

"I said I'm coming. You don't tell me what to do."

I ended the call and turned sharply, heading back to my office. I needed my gun, my international passport—everything necessary for a sudden flight to Russia. No one was going to steal what I had spent years creating.

I, Han Sora, built this chip from the ground up. It was the future of technology. And no one...no damn bastard...was taking it from me.

Back in my office, I packed quickly, but as I reached for my firearm, I realized I had left my lucky gun at home. Only billionaires or mafia bosses would understand, but I needed that gun.

"Go get it. I want it back here in thirty minutes," I ordered one of my men.

He nodded and rushed out. I sat at my desk, working furiously on my laptop while waiting. Exactly thirty minutes later, he returned with the gun in a sleek briefcase. I took it, checked it briefly, and nodded in approval.

As we stepped out of my office, my eyes landed on the same blonde guy from earlier.

This time, he was watching me.

His gaze was intense, sharp—like he was studying me, or maybe waiting for something. It was the kind of look someone gave when watching either their favorite movie or a horror scene.

Then, I noticed something.

He was tailing us.

I tightened my grip on my briefcase and subtly signaled my bodyguards. One of them gave me a small nod. We were aware of him now.

Then, suddenly, one of my men stopped. We followed his gaze. The blonde guy had bent down, pretending to fix his shoelace.

Something felt off.

We resumed walking, but a second later, a loud thump echoed behind us.

I turned swiftly.

The blonde guy was on the floor.

One of my bodyguards had a gun pointed directly at him.

Before he could fire, the blonde launched himself at me.

Then.

Bang.

For a moment, I thought I had been shot. But there was no pain. No impact.

Instead, the blonde guy's body jerked violently, blood soaking through his shirt.

I caught him before he collapsed completely, an unfamiliar pang striking deep in my chest not physical, but something sharp and unexplainable.

Chaos erupted. My other guards dealt with the attacker, who tried to flee.

Meanwhile, in my arms, the blonde's soft blue eyes flickered then dulled.

"Call a fucking ambulance!" I roared.

As soon as the ambulance was called, my body trembled at the sight of him—this random guy, a stranger, taking a bullet meant for me. What the fuck? A traitor among my own team? An assassin targeting me? If this blonde guy hadn't intervened, I would be dead.

Yes, there were more pressing matters—getting to Russia, saving my chip but he saved my life. The least I could do was stay.

One of my bodyguards informed me that the attacker had fled. I barely heard him. Instead, I grabbed the blonde man, his blood soaking through my clothes, but I didn't care. Without hesitation, I ran down five flights of stairs, my footsteps echoing as I burst through the doors. Eyes turned to me, whispers spread, but none of it mattered.

I jumped into the ambulance with him, but a bodyguard blocked me.

"Sir, you're not safe. You need to go we'll follow him."

I didn't bother replying. The glare I shot him was enough to reset his entire system. He stepped aside.

"The only thing you should be doing," I said coldly and slowly "is.following.me."

He nodded, and we sped to the hospital.

The moment we arrived, they rushed him into surgery. I stood outside, biting my fingers furiously. I had never been this scared for anyone. Not for a stranger. Not even for myself.

I had five bodyguards one was a traitor. Two had gone after the assassin. Two remained with me.

"What's the update?" I demanded.

"No news yet. He escaped."

"Fuck!"

Rage burned through me as I grabbed a hospital bench and slammed it to the ground. The loud crash startled everyone nearby, but the fury in my eyes kept them silent. A nurse hesitated, about to say something, but wisely chose to shut up.

Minutes dragged on until finally, the doctor walked out. I rushed him immediately.

"How is he? Is he alive?"

"Yes," the doctor said. "It's a good thing you brought him in time. The bullet hit a critical spot, but with surgery, he'll survive."

I grabbed the doctor's coat, my voice deadly.

"Then do the damn surgery. I want him alive. If not, I'll burn this entire fucking hospital to the ground."

The doctor nodded, fear in his eyes, and disappeared back into the operating room. I clenched my fists, my pulse hammering.

Who the hell was that blonde guy? And why he following me and almost getting himself killed?