✓ GREEDY HEARTS | JAY

26 - On The Verge Of Collapsing

Y/N'S POV

"Let go of your gun and let's see what you've got," I toss the throwing knives aside and cross my arms, waiting for him to make a move. He eyes me warily and I can tell fear is creeping into his expression. It's not the fear of physical harm – he's a trained guard, after all – but rather the fear of being exposed, of having his vulnerabilities laid bare. It's a fear I know all too well. "I'm not here to hurt you, but I want to test your skills and, perhaps, teach you a thing or two."

"You teach me?" Oh, there it is. That damned arrogance that makes my eye twitch. He's surprised, maybe even a bit offended, at the notion of someone like me teaching him anything. "I'm afraid I'll end up hurting you." 

"Bold words, Watchdog. Let's see if you can back them up." When he holsters his gun, he comes forward and I uncross my arms, readying myself for whatever he throws my way. Before I know it, he lunges forward with unexpected speed, aiming a swift punch towards my midsection. I instinctively sidestep, narrowly avoiding the blow. Oh shit, he's quick. This might be more interesting than I thought. 

He's more agile, and less reliant on brute force. I watch as he adapts to my movements, learning from each exchange. "I'm holding back, Red. I'm not planning on hurting you." I can tell he's frustrated by the way he utters those words as if my refusal to let him in completely challenges his pride.

"Then you're not learning properly," A hint of a smile plays on my lips as he raises his eyebrow. "Let go, Watchdog. It's the only way you'll truly improve."

"I know why you're here." I'm slightly taken aback by how he's serious all of a sudden but I understand these men don't really trust anyone. Not that I do, but I have space for surprises in my world. I narrow my eyes, waiting for him to elaborate. "You're not here just because you need a place to hide. You're planning on something. I can see it in your eyes. Boss knows."

I don't confirm or deny. Instead, I maintain a steady gaze, letting the silence linger. I manage to dodge his next punches and even counter with a swift kick, forcing him to step back. But when his fist lands on my side, right where the wound still lingers, I feel a jolt of pain. I grit my teeth, groaning and clutching my side for a moment. Watchdog immediately backs off, concern etched on his face. "It's nothing," I mutter, straightening up. The pain is still there, still making me realize that I'm not that invincible. "Come on, let's continue. I don't have time for breaks."

Watchdog hesitates, his eyes searching mine for any sign of relenting. Eventually, he nods, the concern still lingering in his gaze but I hate it. I hate how I can tell he's pitying me or thinking that I'm weaker than I want to appear. I hate that I can't do anything to save my sister. I hate that I can't do anything to save Niki. I hate that I can't do anything to save myself. And I hate, I fucking hate myself.

All my frustration and self-loathing come out when I land a blow to Watchdog's abdomen, making him The satisfaction is short-lived as I feel the lingering pain in my side intensify with the exertion and I curse at whatever internal damage I might have caused. Despite the pain, I press on, fueled by the need to prove a point – to myself as much as to Watchdog. 

Another punch, and another – I'm on top of him, my fist connecting with his jaw over and over though the pain in my side could no longer be ignored. Watchdog, for his part, tries to defend himself, but my relentless assault doesn't give him much room to counter.

"Enough, Red!" But it's Park's voice that makes me freeze. When the hell did he come back and why the hell is he interrupting my moment? I turn to see him standing at the entrance of the training room, his expression unreadable. Watchdog scrambles to his feet, clearly relieved to be out of the line of fire. "What the hell are you doing?" 

"Training," I reply, trying to sound nonchalant, though the pain in my side is now impossible to ignore. Sweat is dripping down my face and the adrenaline is now dissipating, leaving behind the harsh reality of my own physical limitations.

"Training by beating the hell out of yourself and assaulting my man? You're fucking crazy," He snaps, his eyes narrowing at me. I hate that he's directing his frustration and anger at me but I straighten up, realizing that he's probably not thrilled to find me engaged in a violent brawl in his basement.

"He's fine," I retort, ignoring the ache in my side. "And I didn't assault him. We're training-"

"You do not turn my guard into a punching bag, for fuck's sake. My men are here for protection, not for you to vent your frustrations." This isn't the man I thought I knew. This isn't the man who held me last night, who showed vulnerability and tenderness. This is the cold, ruthless Park I've seen before. I glance at Watchdog, who's standing a few feet away, clearly uncomfortable with the tension in the room.

"Apologies, sir," Watchdog speaks up and I almost roll my eyes. What a fucking hypocrite. "I agreed to the training session. It's not her fault."

"I don't care if he agreed. My men are out there fighting Choi Minho's men to keep your sister safe and you're here turning them into your playthings? This is my property and I'm the fucking owner. My people are not here to be used as your personal training dummies." Park's voice is sharp and my heart drops at the mention of my sister. 

I clench my jaw, trying to push down the anger and disappointment welling up inside me when Watchdog points out, "Red, you're bleeding." I glance down and see the crimson seeping through the tear in my shirt. It's not a surprise, considering the punishment I subjected my body to. Great. Now this is just what I need.  

I press my hand against the wound, attempting to stanch the bleeding, but Park walks to me. Let me see that. Everyone get out." He commands, his tone leaving no room for argument. Watchdog and the other guards quickly exit the training room, leaving Park and me alone in the now tense silence. "Fuck, Y/N, you're making it hard for me to keep you safe when you're pulling stunts like this."

"I can take care of myself," I snap back, my frustration boiling over. I don't want his concern. I don't want anything from him. "Don't pretend you care about me when you're so angry and frustrated."

"I'm not angry nor frustrated." I watch as he sighs heavily and reaches into the first aid kit for antiseptic and bandages. He's frowning and I don't know whether it's from my stubbornness or something else.

"You are-"

"I'm not fucking angry." A pretty long silence joins the conversation as I lean against the wall behind me and look away. If raising his voice like this is his way of not being frustrated, then I don't want to see him when he actually is. "Angry is not what I feel. It's concern, frustration, and a whole lot of confusion. I care about you. I fucking left everything and drove here when I heard you decided to train because I knew you'd push yourself too far. And I've been thinking about you for the whole day I'm almost afraid I might lose my mind."

The way he stares at me and gently touches me is disarming, and I find myself at a loss for words. Should I allow myself to tell him I've been thinking about him too? That I'm almost hoping there could be something more between us? No, I can't afford to be vulnerable. Not with him, not with anyone.

"Don't treat me like this." I manage to utter, looking away while he looks at me. "If I didn't know better I would have believed you're falling in love with me." 

"You think I'm falling in love with you?" His voice is low, almost a growl, and I feel a shiver run down my spine. I don't know what to think. I don't know if I can allow myself to entertain the possibility. It's, after all, just a fleeting moment, a dangerous thought that I can't afford to entertain. I can't let myself believe that someone like Park, with all his complexities and secrets, could feel something as genuine as love for someone like me.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I mutter, avoiding eye contact. "You cannot possibly be falling in love with me."

"Right." I never thought that one single word would be enough to make my heart break. Hell, I never knew my heart was capable of breaking again after all the times it had been shattered before. But here I am, feeling the fragile pieces of my heart tremble as if they were on the verge of collapsing.