[ FLASHBACK: ...The Second the Trigger Was Pulled ]
Amid the roar of thunder and the hammering of his heart… time froze.
BANG!!!
The gunshot shattered the air. The smell of gunpowder filled the room, instantly mingling with the scent of blood.
"Ghk!" Ren's towering figure seized sharply.
A colossal impact slammed into the right side of his abdomen. Like an iron sledgehammer, knocking the life completely out of him. Heat flared—then everything went numb.
Ren staggered backward. Two heavy steps. Not solely from the ballistic impact, but from the sight before him that shredded his heart far worse than any blade.
Yurin... the tiny boy he loved with everything he had. The boy he wanted to protect with his life. Standing there, clutching the gun with trembling hands. Wisps of white smoke curled from the barrel. Those beautiful eyes were blown wide with sheer terror and shock, heavy tears cascading down his pale cheeks.
You actually shot me... Yurin? To protect him. To protect that fucking bastard. You had the absolute nerve to pull the trigger on me?
The pain in his abdomen was nothing compared to the agony in the left side of his chest. It felt as if something tore through his chest—worse than the wound.
Ren's large hand clamped over the wound on his stomach. A terrifying crimson stain rapidly expanded, dying his expensive white shirt a horrific red.
He collapsed. His knees slammed into the floor. His body curled inward from the agony radiating from the wound.
Cough! He hacked, a dark trace of blood slipping from the corner of his mouth.
"REN!"
Yurin screamed his name. The slender boy lunged forward, overwhelmed by sheer guilt, but was instantly yanked back by Zen.
Ren fought against the agonizing pain to raise his head. To memorize that face one last time. The face he loved.
And the face that had just slaughtered his soul.
"Get out..." he forced the words out.
"Get the fuck out... with him... before I... change my mind and kill you."
He saw the look in Zen's eyes. A cold, satisfying glare of a victor. Before Zen scooped Yurin up over his shoulder and sprinted out of the room. Leaving him completely alone in a pool of his own blood.
The image of Yurin's back growing distant slowly faded, obscured by a veil of tears and the darkness closed in his consciousness.
"Don't leave me..."
Ren mumbled weakly. His blood-soaked hand trembled uncontrollably as he weakly grasped at the empty air.
"Yurin... come back... it hurts... don't abandon me."
His entire world went pitch black. Leaving only absolute silence and a cold that pierced straight into his core.
[ HOSPITAL: 3 Days Later ]
Beep... Beep... Beep...
The monitor beeped steadily. The pungent stench of antiseptic burned his nose. The blinding white ceiling was completely barren... devoid of the shadow of the one person he was waiting for.
"Mr. Ren is awake!"
A nurse shouted in relief, followed by the frantic footsteps of a doctor rushing into the room.
"It is a miracle, sir. The bullet missed your liver. We surgically removed the projectile. You are completely out of danger."
Ren lay entirely still. His vacant eyes stared at the ceiling. He felt no joy in surviving. Searing pain tore through his surgical wound with every breath. Yet, it still hurt infinitely less than the brutal reality that... Yurin was gone.
"Get out," he rasped dryly.
"Excuse me, sir?" The doctor froze.
"I SAID... GET. THE. FUCK. OUT!!"
He roared. He grabbed the glass vase from the nightstand and hurled it violently at the wall.
The medical staff scrambled out of the room in sheer terror, leaving the patient who had just returned from death's door entirely alone.
Ren ground his teeth. Fighting through the agonizing pain of the incision, he slowly pushed himself up to sit. His large hand savagely ripped the IV line from the back of his hand, ignoring the sharp sting as he dragged his staggering, battered body to the bathroom mirror.
The reflection staring back was a walking corpse. Sunken, hollow cheeks. Unkempt facial hair. Eyes bloodshot and sunken deep into their sockets.
He stared at himself.
The surgical scar on his abdomen would forever remain a brutal reminder of just how utterly worthless love was.
"You chose him..." He smirked menacingly at his own reflection. A single tear slipped down his cheek.
"You shot me to escape with him."
The old Ren, the boy who begged for love, died with that bullet. All that remained was a 'demon' living solely for retribution.
"Run as far as you can, Yurin," he whispered with glacial venom.
"Savor whatever time you have left with that bastard. Because the second I find you..."
"I will chain you. And I will lock you in hell with me for eternity."
Smash!
His heavy fist plowed into the mirror, shattering the glass into pieces. His battered knuckles pressed against the splintered surface, the pain entirely eclipsed by his fury, mingling with his tears.
A blood oath that he would never stop hunting until Yurin was his again.
…
Despite his body not being fully recovered, Ren refused to waste a single second.
He ordered his men to tear the case apart and ordered them to flip the earth to find a trail. But Zen was lethally brilliant. He fabricated flawless evidence indicating they had fled across the border, leading Ren on a phantom chase for nearly two weeks.
Until... the turning point arrived.
His most trusted subordinate rushed in, his face alight with urgency, holding a critical piece of evidence recovered from the charred remains of a van found deep in the suburban woods.
"Boss, we have a lead! The forensics team found traces of soil embedded deep in the wheel wells of the burned van. This soil composition doesn't match the city limits. It's mountain soil with a very specific mineral trace. The coordinates match an illegal, private airstrip near the border! They didn't use the main airport to flee!"
Ren snatched the analysis report.
The eyes that had been dull and hollow instantly ignited.
"An illegal airstrip?"
"Cross-reference the flight logs of every private jet or chartered flight that departed that strip on the night of the incident!"
"We've already hacked the international aviation radar grid, boss," the subordinate rapidly typed on his laptop.
"An unregistered aircraft flew off the radar that night, heading straight toward Northern Europe."
A few hours later, the destination coordinates materialized on the screen. A small town called 'Oakhaven'. A town hidden within a valley, cloaked in fog year-round.
The perfect place to hide. And the perfect place to dig a grave.
"Found you..." Ren murmured.
His large hand slipped into his suit jacket, his fingers brushing against a brand-new collar he had custom-ordered. A solid steel collar is entirely keyless.
"Hide-and-seek is over... my love."
A black SUV sliced through the thick fog, pulling to a halt at a scenic overlook on the mountain's peak. A towering figure in a grey trench coat stepped out of the vehicle. The violent wind whipped the coat back, exposing the heavy bulge of a shoulder holster strapped to his chest.
Ren took off his black sunglasses. His midnight eyes stared down at the small town below. A town as serene and breathtaking as a painting.
He spotted a white wooden house standing isolated by the lake. His apex predator instincts told him.
He lit a cigarette. He dragged the nicotine deep into his lungs and exhaled a thick plume of smoke, mingling with the dense fog. The corner of his mouth curled upward.
The smile of the grim reaper finally locating the soul he came to collect.
"Had enough of your little happily-ever-after?" he whispered to the wind.
"Prepare for the real hell. Because your true husband is here to bring you home."
He dropped the cigarette butt, crushing it under the heel of his leather boot until it was completely extinguished. He climbed back into the SUV. The engine roared, plunging down the mountain toward the small house in the valley.
The ultimate storm had arrived. And this time, absolutely no one would survive the wreckage.