Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Even before I could process what was happening, the knife was in my hands.
"Don't," said the voice belonging to the person my subconscious had sensed before my eyes had seen, and I felt a strong hand on my wrist, pushing my hand down. Vernon was still wearing the mask, and his eyes were wary when they made contact with mine, telling me what I needed to know.
Jungkook was here.
In fact, the only people there were him and Vernon—and now me, of course. Both of them looked unsurprised to see me. The gymnasium seemed like it had not been used in years—there were dirty white sheets covering random boxes arranged haphazardly throughout the room, and the floor failed to shine through the fine layer of dust covering it. Someone had pulled the covers away from the window, though it didn't do much to help the sparse lighting—the only light coming from outside was that of the moon.
"You're here," I spoke to Vernon in a low voice, lips barely moving. My tone betrayed no emotion, but my eyes when they sought his were full of a nameless relief. He hadn't been caught in the gunfire, and a quick scan of his body confirmed that he had suffered no injuries whether they be major or minor.
He nodded curtly, and released my wrist. I lowered my primed knife reluctantly, and turned to Jungkook. He was studying his watch, seemingly uninterested by whatever was happening around him.
"You were supposed to be underground by now, but it's not a problem," he said, in the same stone-cold voice that held no indication of whether he cared where I was or not. "Taemin should be downstairs, herding the remaining guests—it'll be a while before he can get back, but the other exits should be sealed."
Vernon and I exchanged a look. Sealed exits meant sealed entrances, which meant that no help was coming. Our initial plan had been for Jungkook to be cornered by a good portion of the gang, but it seemed like it was up to the two of us to finish the job.
"Why was there a shootout downstairs?" I asked, my voice so hoarse from screaming that it barely carried. Thankfully, the tiniest sounds echoed in the gymnasium, and he heard me. "That wasn't part of the plan."
"It wasn't our doing, it was the Lees' doing," Jungkook said, looking up from his watch and directly at me. His eyes were vacant. Not the pensive kind of vacant, but simply that. "The gathering wasn't just for the auction, you know, it was to pick out the people who stood in their way. The gunshots weren't random, they were all aimed at somebody, so you need not worry. You wouldn't have been harmed."
"The guests didn't seem to have gotten the memo, either," I muttered.
He scoffed, which surprised me. His first real display of emotion in three years. "What did you expect them to do? Hand out fliers? The ones who panicked and ran into the line of fire only have themselves to blame. Besides, there was a crossfire, so it wasn't a massacre, just a regular shootout."
