𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍 | 𝐛𝐭𝐬

FIFTEEN

Present Day: Tuesday Morning

Rosé's P.O.V

"I need to talk to the chairman. Now." I tap my foot impatiently at Hong, who smells of coffee. I've tried to call (y/n) back, but it goes straight to voicemail. She's going to do something stupid; I know she's going to go dancing. Probably right now. She can't mess up, not again. I'm getting so much better. I know what we'll need soon, something that will get us free. Something that will atone for all the ways I've destroyed my sister.

I can feel it-it's close, that future when we're free. That secret future I've never told anyone about, that I don't even know the details about other that the way I feel in it. I have to get things back that control so we can find that future.

Hong shifts in his chair: it creaks. "I'll call his secretary and see if I can get something up." he finally says.

Call his secretary? We all know how that's going to end. I do some quick thinking and-

"You might want to mention I've seen his death." I reply in a heartbeat. "His imminent death." I add for good measure. "Just so they know who to blame when he doesn't get warned in time." I complete with a cherry on the top.

I've read of the blood draining from people's when they're scared. I like to imagine that's what's happening to Hong right now. I hear something this to that floor-something small, moisture be his phone, butterfingers-before he stammers to someone that I need an appointment with mister chairman immediately. He doesn't say why, though. Probably doesn't want to be culpable is something really does go wrong.

"He's in the building." Hong says, relief evident in his voice. No one knows where the chairman will be at any given time, and he's very rarely here. Well, can't really blame him for that, though. No person in their right mind would want to hang out in a house full of highly trained agents and merciless assassins. "I can take your up right now."

"There's a good boy."

He tries to take my elbow. He always tries to take my elbow. I want to take my elbow to his face. Instead, I nice it away and walk down the hall to the elevator on my own. As if down know the confines of my prison. As if I am not aware of every square-foot of space that holds me here, where no one can get to me and where no one get me out. At the same time, these walls hold (y/n), too, even though she's not in them.

Sometimes, when I'm reminded of the horrible things they do to her, or make her go through, I wish she could just leave me here. But at the same time, I know she never will. All these years since the day she was born, she has never left my side, and she never will in the future, either.

The elevator's familiar him and cheerful ding announce our arrival on the to floor. I've only been here one other time, last week. It smells clean, perfectly clean, the air purified and washed and dried of everything that goes underneath it. The east wing of the school smells like woman -vigorous scents of perfume which I can barely tell apart because there's so many lingering about; scented candles; floral shampoo; and the mild scent of lotion - while the west wing smells of the exact opposite: men - perfumes and colognes so strong they could give you an instant headache; aftershave, and a hint of sweat sometimes.

I am the the only woman here who the Big Boss will see. I suppose I should be flattered, but he knows that I'm the only one who can see him without seeing him. He won't let Readers or Feelers within two floors of himself, because of we don't know his face, we can't recognize him if we see him in a vision.

A but paranoid, our mysterious boss. Probably comes with the territory when your have government senators killed. (y/n) still doesn't know she told me about that; she has a habit of talking in her sleep sometimes. Oh, (y/n).