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PROLOGUE

Everyone in the county knows about you.

They all know your name. If not the first part, certainly your surname. It would be concerning if they didn’t, considering it’s plastered on the top of every building in town. Harrington & Sons Dry Goods & Groceries, Harrington Post Office, Harrington Bank & Trust.

You are the only daughter of Elias Harrington, cattle king and town bigwig who owns more land than the Governor and more money than any king you’ve ever heard of. Your childhood was trimmed with lace and silk. Your days consisted of lessons with a French governess, riding around in a pony cart painted snow-white, and learning how to dance at balls.

On your sixteenth birthday, your father had a grand piano shipped all the way from Italy. On your eighteenth, he bought you a diamond necklace that had once rested on the chest of an Austrian duchess. You get whatever you want, when you want. And, sometimes, you don’t even have to ask for it.

Folk speak well of you and your family. Well, mostly. Some people don’t care too much for your father, but that has little to do with you. Everyone just seems to adore you. Sweet Miss Harrington, the jewel of this little town, so refined and beautiful and young.

You’re sure it helps that your mother dresses you like a porcelain doll and parades you through teas and various other social engagements. She whispers in your ear all the while, telling about which railroad heir or oil baron would make the best match. You know the other young ladies like to turn their nose up at you out of jealousy. They all want the money, the security, the things you have. You know that. And it only makes it all the sweeter.

The truth is that you love your little life. While so many girls poke fun at and complain about needing to get married and have babies and decorate their homes, it stokes the fire in your gut. The horrible truth about it all is that you love being watched. You like knowing people are jealous of you, that they want to be you. It’s such a gorgeous feeling.

So, you smile at them all with your white teeth and practiced sweetness. Every curtsey, every flirtation, every flick of your lace fan from China is executed to perfection.

Being untouchable is your speciality.  You were born to be the diamond in every room your heeled shoes deign to appear.

At the end of the day, you know with full confidence that you were born to be looked at.

PART ONE

It’s no surprise when Luther, your father’s right-hand man, stops by the house to ask you to drop off some money at the bank on your shopping trip in town. Since you frequent the row of Harrington-owned businesses that offer the expensive and beautiful bits and bobs you like so very much, it’s no trouble to step into the bank on the next street over.

The wind is brisk this afternoon. It almost runs away with the brand new wide-brimmed hat that you’d bought a couple of weeks ago. That, of course, would have been a terrible shame. The pink ribbon fastened around the crown of the accessory matches perfectly with the pale rose-colored dress that you’re wearing. It has gorgeous lace trimmings that complement your white gloves and shoes quite nicely.

With your pink silk money purse secured around your wrist, you step into Harrington Bank & Trust. The familiar smell of burning wax and old paper money waft into your nose. You smile, pasting the same polite grin on your face that you always don in public places. You approach the marble counter, outfit fairly pristine despite the elements outside.

“Good afternoon, Jack!” you say pleasantly, greeting the familiar bank clerk who always takes care of your father’s finances.

“Good afternoon, Miss Harrington!” the older man greets you with a genuine smile. “A pleasure to see you today. What may I do for you, miss?”

“I just need to make a deposit for Daddy.”

You reach into the change purse and pull out the hefty stack of bills that Luther had handed over to you at the house. You count along in your head as Jack thumbs through the bills. If your math is correct, you come up with twenty thousand dollars.

Lovely. You can’t wait to see what shiny new toy Daddy will buy you with all of this cash. You watch on with a satisfied smile, dreaming of all the fancy things you could buy with your allowance, when the large wooden doors to the bank burst open so hard the glass shatters in one of the frames.

You jump. Your hand finds its way to your heart, now pounding from being so startled. A gasp slips from your lips when you turn toward the door to see five men. Dust swirls off their coats like steam from a stew. The top half of their faces are covered by the shadow of a cowboy hat, the bottom half shielded by bandanas of various colors. And in each of their hands, a revolver.

The first shot bursts through the chandelier, crystal exploding like ice and snow across the lobby. Tiny shards of glass careen down toward the bank’s patrons. Screams echo off the vaulted ceiling. Silence follows for a moment, everything going eerily still.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” the front man steps forward. His black bandana matches his cowboy hat perfectly. “We’re here to make a withdrawal. So, if y’all just cooperate, it’ll be much easier for everyone.”

Another gunshot. You have no idea which one of them fired it this time. All you know is that your hands are shaking now. Before you can even process what’s happening, they move in.

People drop to their knees. They duck behind structures. They cover their heads if they can. The cowboys fire shots left and right. The bank is filled with the shrill sound of breaking glass, women screaming, bullets ricocheting against the marble floors and walls. Some people try to run out. One man is shot in the back as he flees. Blood spurts from his body where the bullet enters. It splatters across his nice suit and the doorframe through which he was running. On the other side of the room, a woman wails pathetically as one of the cowboys holds a gun to the back of her head and shouts at her to empty her purse.

While everyone else seems to be thrown into mass hysteria, you find yourself frozen. It feels as if your feet have been nailed to the floor where you stand. Your heart is pounding so loud, you can hear its muffled beat in your ears. You’ve been trained to do many things, to adapt in many difficult social situations. You know how to pour tea correctly, how to dance a waltz with perfect lines, how to embroider a lovely little pair of gloves. But not this. You haven’t been trained to deal with anything like this.

You shriek when a hand clamps down on your shoulder. Relief washes over you when you glance back to see Jack. He motions for you to follow him. Despite his old age, he’s able to crouch down low enough to sneak behind the counter. On the verge of tears, you follow him. Your eyes flicker all over the room, trying to understand everything that you’re seeing and scanning for enemies.

Behind the tall counter, Jack gestures toward the empty space where his stool normally sits. He ushers you into the spot. You curl up, cramped and uncomfortable, but too terrified to argue. He scoots the stool back in as far as it will go. It bangs against your shins. You bite down your tongue to stay silent. Jack’s eyes are wide with fear, but his hands don’t shake when he holds them out, ordering you to stay put. You nod and squeeze your eyes shut amongst the crashing and screaming and shouting.

When you open your eyes again, Jack is gone. You have no idea where he went. Before you can gather the courage to get up and look for him, something comes tumbling over the top of the counter. You clamp a hand over your mouth as the vibrations rock against you. A body slides over the edge. It bounces against the stool and lands directly in front of you.

The head is turned toward you, blood spilling from the eyes and nose. A guttural noise escapes you as you look upon the familiar face. It’s Jack. You’re sure of it.

You can feel your chest rising and falling more quickly now. Tears slip from your eyes, cascading in warm trails down your cheeks. You feel sick. You’re going to be sick. You can’t stay here. You have to get out. You need out now.

Without really thinking it through, you shove the stool out of the way. It teeters and almost crashes over but regains its balance just in time. You burst from under the counter. Still crouched, you grab fistfuls of your petticoats to get them out of the way as you try to run toward the door in the back.

Your eyes snag on something in your path. With a gulp, you lunge for it, scooping up an ivory-handled pistol that had been knocked away from someone in the skirmish. Your heart seems to slow just a tick as you look up, gun in hand for extra safety, and see that you’re only three or four steps from the exit. Gathering your courage once again, you raise up enough to take a step.

“Drop it, honey.”

You freeze, breath caught in your throat. Slowly, carefully, you angle your head over your shoulder. Your lip quivers. One of the cowboys, the one with the black bandana, stands above you. His gun is in his hand, the barrel is pointed directly at you.

You glance down at the gun, brain stumbling around in circles. You could try to shoot him. But you’ve never shot a gun before. You could throw it at him and run. But with your petticoats…how far would you get? Besides, wouldn’t one of his buddies shoot you instead?

The crisp sound of the gun cocking interrupts your thoughts. Trembling, you raise your gaze to his.

“I really wouldn’t try anythin’ if I was you,” he says, voice rough and deep.

“Holster it, Buck,” another voice sounds.

Your eyes slide over, locking on another one of the bandits. This one is dressed exclusively in brown—his pants, button-up, jacket, boots, hat, and even bandana have all been dyed various shades of brown. The bandit in black scoffs, tossing his head to look at the one in brown.

“And just who the hell do you think you are?” the bandit in black spits. “Tryna tell me what to do.”

“I ain’t tryna tell you what to do. I’m just sayin’,” his eyes shift over, meeting yours, “not this one.”

The bandit in black stares at him for a moment.

“Well, maybe I should just shoot your ass, instead, then. Huh?”

They start to bicker, something that seems to come rather naturally to the pair. With them both distracted, you take this as your opportunity. Forgetting completely about the gun, you stand up and bolt for the door.

You only make it a couple of steps before someone’s arm is around your waist. You grunt against the impact. Your body immediately snaps into survival mode, thrashing and struggling against whoever’s got you. A terrible burst of hot air hits your neck and ear. A laugh, or something like it.

“Damn, little girl!” It’s the bandit in black. “Well, you just got yourself killed, you know. What a shame, to waste such a pretty face.”

He drags the barrel of the gun along your cheek. You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut and praying for escape. You feel the tip of the gun pressed against your temple. The ring of metal is still hot from the last shot he’d taken. Heaving, you clench your teeth and prepare for the end.

“No!” the bandit in brown’s voice sounds closer now.

You open your eyes to see him standing to your left. His gloved hand is wrapped around the bandit in black’s wrist attached to the hand holding the gun to your head.

“Oh, you’re done, dickhead. Imma kill you, you hear me?” the bandit in black hisses, breath still ghosting over the shell of your ear.

The bandit in brown gestures toward you with his free hand. 

“Her clothes, Buck,” the bandit in brown says.

“Her what?”

“Her clothes,” he repeats. “They’re fine. Lace, silk, gold jewelry. She’s rich, Buck. By the look of things, I’d reckon filthy rich.”

The bandit in black is silent for a moment before asking, “What’s your point, Jongho?”

The bandit in brown glances over at you again, eyes calculating and sharp. You wince under his gaze. You feel like some sort of cow being sized up at an auction.

“I bet mommy and daddy would pay a fine penny to get their ‘lil girl back. A helluva lot more than we’d get just pullin’ bank jobs.”

His vision drops down to the deposit slip still clutched in your white-gloved hand. He steps forward once, and you move back. He steps forward again but this time catches hold of your arm. You strain against him, but he’s able to easily pry the deposit slip from your fingertips. You gulp as he looks at the number on it. His eyebrows raise, eyes going wide. He stares at you for a moment and then hands the scrap of paper off to his compatriot.

When the bandit in black sees it, he whoops loudly. You flinch at the noise. The bandit in black looks at you, and you can tell he’s grinning beneath his bandana. You feel tears stinging your eyes, but you hold them back.

“Change of plans, boys,” he shouts, voice booming across the bank. “Looks like we’re takin’ a princess back with us.”

You shake your head vigorously, stumbling backward over papers and limbs and god knows what else strewn about the floor. You trip on something, crashing down onto your bum with a grimace. Before you can move past the shock enough to stand, an arm locks around your waist like an iron brand. The world tilts. Your hair falls past your ears and into your eyes.

You kick, claw, scream as you try to get away. Every carefully practiced ladylike lesson burns away in terror and fury. Suddenly, the world is right-side up again. Blood rushes into your head, clouding your vision black for a moment.

When you reorient yourself, you find your skirt ripped, petticoats pushed up past your stockings, legs spread wide on the back of a horse. Your bum is securely resting in the saddle and something solid is behind you. You wiggle and realize quickly that your hands have been tied to the pommel. Panic sets in, you jerk against the bonds. Your silk gloves bunch up near the unkempt rope, and you’re thankful the fabric is there to protect you at least a little from rope burn. But whoever tied you here did it too tightly. You can’t get free. Maybe you can slide your hands up the pommel. You try it, back slamming against whoever rides behind you. He grunts at the impact.

One of his hands wraps around your jaw, pulling your head back. His thumb presses into your neck just hard enough to still you.

“Quit fightin’,” he says quietly in your ear. “You won’t get loose. You’re tied to a rigging ring, too. Keeps you in place better.”

You peer down to see that the rope has been threaded through one of the rings on the saddle. You sigh, dropping your head and squeezing your eyes shut. Maybe if you wish hard enough, you’ll wake up from this nightmare.

But when you open them, you’re still there. You twist just enough in the saddle to see your keeper—the bandit in brown. You meet his eyes for a fleeting moment. Despite the hard exterior, there’s something soft in them, something intriguing.

But the horse lunges forward, taking off into a sprint at the command of its rider. Your body jerks forward. You knock back and forth against the leather saddle and the hard torso of the stranger behind you. One of his arms snakes around your waist. You gasp. It feels claustrophobic, this new restriction. His support keeps you steadier as the horse runs, but you hate the way it feels too tight on your body.

You close your eyes again, praying for sleep or death or something to take you away from this.

Hours later—you have no idea how many—the bandit in brown unties your bonds and hoists you down from the horse. You have a fleeting idea to run for it, but his grip on your bicep is far too strong. You won’t even be able to tear yourself away from him let alone escape.

Your eyes slide side to side as you take in your surroundings. They’ve brought you to a crumbling ranch house. It seems to be old, and parts of it are crumbling or broken. It’s isolated; there’s no other buildings or structures anywhere that you can see. The summer sun blanches the plains, hot and unforgiving.

With some help, the cowboys force you into a rickety wooden chair. They yank your arms behind you, tying you to the legs. You whimper at the pull on your muscles. One of them removes your gloves. The rope bites into your skin if you struggle, burning so badly that you give up in a matter of seconds.

The bandit in black approaches, bandana lowered to reveal a set of grimy, yellow-flecked teeth. Your stomach gurgles in protest as he gets closer. When he reaches out to touch your face, you panic. Before you know it, your teeth are sinking into his hand.

You have no idea what's gotten into you. You’ve never…bitten anyone before.

He yelps, wrenching his hand back. His eyes are wide with rage when he looks back at you. He draws his pistol and cocks it, pointing at you once again. You stare back at him, shaking your head. You feel like your eyes are about to pop out of the sockets. You can assure him that you’re equally as surprised at what you just did.

“Why you ‘lil bit-”

“Buck,” there’s that voice again, the bandit in brown. “We need her alive. Parents ain’t gonna pay ransom for a dead daughter.”

The bandit in black—Buck, apparently—swipes his tongue across his teeth. He clenches his jaw, tilts his head. His eyes swipe up and down your body one time. Then, he clicks his tongue and spins his gun. You release a sigh of relief.

You glance over at the bandit in brown, just long enough to catch his eye before the butt of Buck’s pistol slams into the side of your head. Pain floods into you for a moment before the darkness swallows you whole.

PART TWO

You come to with a throbbing skull. You blink and try to straighten. Your neck is so sore. Based on the moonlight striping across the floorboards, you’ve been out for quite a while. Your eyes scan the room.

At first, you think you're alone. But when your gaze sweeps all the way to the right, you see him. One of the bandits is seated on an upturned bucket. You can hear talking and laughing coming from outside. Those must be the others. Through the slats in the wood, you can just barely make out a campfire in front of the house.

“Sleep well?”

Your head jerks toward the bandit inside the room with you. His hat and bandana have been removed, so you have no way of telling which cowboy this one is. He’s cleaning his gun with slow, almost hypnotic movements.

You try to reply, to spew a string of curses at him, but you can’t. While you were knocked out, they gagged you with the bandana. You decide to go for it anyway, but your voice just comes out as a muddled snarl. The corner of his mouth quirks up in a smirk.

He sets his gun down and crosses the room in three strides. You lean backward in the chair, wary of him getting close to you. He crouches beside the chair. Surprisingly gentle, he removes the gag from your mouth. You don’t waste a second. You immediately spit down at his boots.

To your shock, he laughs. The sound is bright and warm, almost like a giggle. You clench your teeth but stare straight forward. You refuse to look at him.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’” he says. “I ‘spose that’s to be expected. You were out for two days.”

Two days?? Panic rises in your chest once more. You’ve been knocked out for two days? You shudder thinking of what’s happened to you since. What could they have done to you? Your clothes seem to be in place, no new bruises or cuts on your skin that you can see. You can hardly believe it, but you appear to be untouched. Nevertheless, rage courses through your veins like oil lighting up a fire.

“What do you want with me?” you reply in a hoarse voice.

“Oh, we don’t want nothin’ with you, princess. We just want a ‘lil bit of your money, is all.”

“You’re despicable.”

He shrugs.

“If that’s how you feel,” he responds nonchalantly.

He rises and walks into the corner. You remain facing straight, ignoring the urge to look over and see what he’s up to. A few moments later, he returns. You watch him crouch next to you from the corner of your eye. He holds something up, waving it in front of your face.

“Thirsty?”

You jerk your head in the other direction. He chuckles and shrugs again.

“Suit yourself, princess.”

Giving in to temptation, your eyes slide over, watching him as he takes a sip from a water canteen. He tilts the can, sliding the spout between plump lips. Your eyes trace down his jaw, onto his throat. You can’t help but stare at his Adam’s apple as he gulps down fresh, cool water. A small stream of liquid escapes out of the side of his mouth. You trace it as it crawls down his cheek, onto his throat, down past the unbuttoned portion of his shirt.

Brown…his shirt is brown. This is the bandit in brown.

When you realize he’s stopped moving, your eyes flick up to meet his. You gasp, embarrassed, and look away immediately. His tongue darts out to lick a bead of water from his lip. Then, his mouth curls into a smirk.

“Sure you don’t want any?” he asks again, holding the canteen toward you.

You steel your jaw and stare straight ahead. After a few moments of silence, he just nods and replaces the cap.

After that, he goes back to cleaning his gun. Your tongue sticks to cracked lips, and your thirst is suddenly undeniable. All you can focus on is how thirsty you are and how dry everything feels.

The next couple of days bleed together, the summer heat melting the minutes into one continuous moment. When you’re not struggling through hours of fitful sleep, you’re trying to wrench your wrists from the rope. At first, your attempts are subtle. You shift in your seat or pretend to be stretching. But when you make no progress and garner absolutely no attention whatsoever from the bandit in brown, you get angry. You begin pulling on the robe and twisting your arms maddeningly. You keep at it until your skin feels so raw that you can’t take it anymore.

The only time you’re untied is when you need to relieve yourself. That doesn’t happen often, anyway, since you’ve been refusing to drink water or eat anything. You can’t deny that the roasts, stews, and cooked vegetables they offer you look delicious. And the water…you don’t know how much longer you can last without it.

You were under constant supervision the first day you were awake. That didn’t last long. While trying to get a better angle on your bonds, you’d accidentally tipped the chair over. When it fell, your head hit the ground. You were out again for several hours. You guess they'd deemed your escape ability non-threatening. After that, you’d mostly just been checked on. Every hour or so, one of the five cowboys peeks his head in to make sure you’re still there, still bound, and still alive.

You hate them. The bandit in black is the worst, but the ones in blue and red are almost as bad. They poke fun at you and tease you as often as they can. The cowboy in green hardly interacts with you. You aren’t sure why, but it makes you like him best, if you can even say that.

The bandit in brown is a mystery. He sits with you every night as the designated night watchman. He speaks to you, too. You never talk back, but that doesn’t seem to bother him. His name is Jongho, you’ve learned, though you neglected to share yours when he asked. You don’t really understand why he does it—none of the others spend their entire shift in this dilapidated shed with you. But he does. Every single night, he’s there. Every single night, he offers water. Every single night, you refuse.

Pride feels like a stupid thing to die for, but you cling to it like moss to a tree trunk.

On the fourth night of being awake, the heat hits a high. It seems to seep through the planks, even at night. You could swear the walls themselves are sweating. Your own perspiration drips down your neck. It doesn’t help that you’re wearing a dress not well-suited for spending a lot of time outside. The lace has turned brown, the gloves are nowhere to be seen. Your normally perfectly styled locks have fallen from their nest atop your head and are splayed across your face, sticking to it now with sweat.

Again, he’s here. The bandit in brown, Jongho, sits on that upturned stool. Tonight he reads quietly. No chit-chat tonight. Sometimes, you wonder when he sleeps, since he stays up all night beside you. He pauses from reading, sticking a finger into his collar. He tugs it out, fanning it back and forth to push air down onto his chest.

“Phew,” he says, “it’s hotter than hell in here tonight.”

You don’t respond. You never do. But you watch from the corner of your eye as he lifts the canteen to his lips. Your tongue darts forward in your own mouth, as if you were the one drinking. A drop of water clings to his bottom lip. He gently thumbs it away, then looks over to you.

You gulp. Your breathing is labored. You’re so tired and sore. Every bone in your body aches, and you’re so unbelievably thirsty. It’s been four days without water. Your head pounds, set off by each step toward you Jongho takes.

Normally, he pauses in front of you to offer you a drink. But, tonight, he circles around to your back. You tense when his fingers touch your arms. Pain shocks through you.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. You hiss when his fingertip grazes one of the rope burns on your wrist. “You did a number on these wrists, princess. I’ll hafta bring somethin’ to fix those up tomorrow night.”

You whimper and groan as he works behind you. You have no idea what he’s doing back there, but it hurts like hell. Then, the pain subsides. Your shoulders fall. On instinct, you move your arms to find them free.

As Jongho walks back around to your front, you look up at him with wide eyes. His expression is calm, controlled. He clearly isn’t worried about you running off. Probably because his buddies are all gathered outside the cabin. But…it’s strange. His kindness makes no sense. He knows you can’t escape and likely won’t try. Buttering you up certainly won’t make your father hand over more cash. So why is he being so nice to you?

You bring your arms around to where they should go. You gasp when you see them—big bands of deep reddish-pink encircling both wrists. Dried blood has crusted over some of it. You gently press a fingertip to it and inhale sharply at the stinging sensation that follows. Gently, you rest your hands in your lap.

Now, he resumes his normal position crouching beside you. He stares for a moment, and you gulp under his gaze. Your windpipe is so dry it feels like it sticks together for a moment too long. Then, Jongho holds up the canteen.

“Drink?”

You don’t reply. Your body is trembling, knowing that relief is so close. When you don’t move for several moments, he sighs deeply.

“If you don’t take at least a sip of this, you’re gonna die, princess,” he continues. “The human body can’t go forever without water.”

Your chest caves in; you know he’s right. But the thought of giving up after all these days feels almost worse than dying. But you don’t have any idea how much longer you’ll be stuck here. If these bandits did, as they said they would, send out a ransom note for you, you’re certain your father would pay it. Depending on how much they asked for, it would take him several days to acquire all the cash. Plus, you have no way of knowing whether your father even received the ransom note. You assume they noted from the bank deposit slip that you’re Elias Harrington’s daughter. But how long would they keep you to press Daddy for more money? It could be forever. They’re already criminals, anyway, so it’s not as if they have much to lose by holding out.

You eye the canteen. Then, you look up at him. His eyebrows are upturned, dark brown eyes gentle. You remember that, from the day they took you. You remember thinking, even then, that his eyes looked soft. He looks…concerned, worried about you. You snap.

“Why do you care?” you ask, voice so cracked that it hardly comes out at all.

“What?”

“Why do you care if I live or die? It’s not like my father will know I’m dead. You’ll still get the money, either way. So why do you care whether I’m dead?”

He studies you for a moment, eyes tracing your face. Then, he breathes deeply and replies, “I disagree. We promised your daddy that we’d give you back alive. If Elias Harrington finds out we let you die, he’ll have the Sheriff on us faster than lightnin’.”

“How do you know he won’t do that anyway?”

“‘Cause it’s part of the deal we worked out with him. If he puts the Sheriff on us, we shoot you.”

You shiver at the thought. So, they do know who you are, who your family is. And they’ve been in contact with Daddy. Somehow, that almost makes you feel worse to know that your family is involved in this now, too.

“You talked to my father?” you ask.

“Mhm. He’s gonna pay for your freedom, for us to hand you over alive and well.”

“When?”

Jongho shrugs.

“Don’t know yet. Buck,” the bandit with the black bandana, “drives a hard bargain. He’s tryna squeeze your old man for every penny he’s willing to part with to get you back.”

Your gut drops. You figured that would be the case.

“So, are you gonna drink some of this damn water or not?” he continues.

He swings the canteen and the water sloshes around inside. Your mouth drops open in anticipation.

You break.

A nod is all Jongho needs. He springs into action. He stands and positions the canteen near your lips. One of his hands slides under your chin, tilting your head up to the right angle. The other carefully pours the water into your mouth. Your hands fly up to brace the canteen. Your fingers overlap on his, but you don’t care.

As soon as the first drop touches your tongue, your eyes roll shut. You gulp greedily, water spilling over your chin. You can feel his thumb swiping away the excess moisture. Your gut feels uneasy at the tenderness, but you don’t care. You need more water.

You swallow air for a few seconds before both of you realize that the canteen is empty. You open your eyes, staring up at him pathetically. Your chest heaves—you don’t think you took one breath while you were gobbling down that water.

He maintains your gaze, eyes trained intensely on you. His own lips are parted, and his chest rises and falls heavily. He reaches up, gingerly swiping his thumb along your chin to wipe away the water that had dripped there. For a moment, you can’t look away. You feel a little lightheaded, probably from the massive influx of water into your thoroughly dehydrated system. After what feels like ages, he finally rips his gaze away. He faces you just long enough that you see his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

You shake your head and angrily wipe your forearm against your chin where he had just touched you so tenderly. He returns to his spot in the corner, picking up his book as if he’d never left it. You don’t say another word to each other that night. But he lays out a blanket on the floor and rolls up another one for a makeshift pillow. He doesn’t say anything about it; he doesn’t retie your bonds either.

That night, you rest your head on a pillow, or at least something resembling one. Despite the welcome comforts, you lie awake most of the night. You think, wonder, try to understand his kindness. That soft look in his eye.

Why does he really care...

PART THREE

It becomes a ritual, this ruse you and Jongho are pulling. Over the next few days, life proceeds in a similar fashion. You spend your days much the same, although Jongho has conducted some negotiations on your behalf. He’s won you the privilege of moving the rope that ties you to your chair around your torso instead of your wrists. Now, you’re able to use your hands to flip the pages of a book that he also stowed away for you.

Jongho brings you updates every now and then, letting you know what’s taking so long to get you back to your father. Apparently, Buck, who Jongho calls the leader of the group, keeps moving the amount due up every day. In turn, your father is being forced to continue withdrawing more and more funds. That puts him behind a day, Buck raises the ransom the next day, and Daddy is behind again.

You remain stoic and cold during the day in the presence of the other four bandits. But, at night, you allow your guard to fall down. Just a little.

Jongho still comes each night. He unties you, lets you eat the extra dinner he’s squirreled away, gives you the canteen of water to empty, and then makes up your bed. You talk. Every night, you talk about things. He tells you stories and then tells you about him. You do the same. Every morning, he wakes you early and secures you back to the chair so none of his fellow members are the wiser.

He bought some ointment for your rope burn. Since it hurts like hell to bend your wrists, he applies it for you. That was the first time your stomach fluttered. It was a passing feeling—just a quick sensation that rose up, like an unwanted flame, before you quashed it. Problem is, it happens again. And again. And again.

Now, it’s hard for you to relax when he’s around at night because your heart pounds heavy in your chest. You’re starting to like too many things about him. Those soft, big brown eyes. His sweet grin, the way his eyes crinkle when he’s genuinely happy, the way he smiles so big that you can see his top gums. His gentle strength. Sometimes, he reminds you of a bear that way. Just a big, soft, strong man. After a while, it’s difficult even to imagine that this is the same man who robbed a bank and kidnapped you for ransom.

It’s easy, however, to see the others that way. They’ve never shown you a shred of kindness or softness. The worst of them remains Buck, the bandit with the black bandana.

On the eighth day, you find yourself in the cabin on a particularly pleasant summer afternoon. You’re flipping through the last pages of the book Jongho has lent you when you hear a crash outside the door. Your head snaps up to search for the owner of the sound. A scuffle follows before the door swings open. You flinch when it crashes against the wall.

Raising his head, Buck stumbles into the cabin. You sigh, returning to your novel. It must be his hour to check in on you. He giggles, and you slowly lift your gaze. At first, you think he might be injured or something, considering the way he’s swaying back and forth. But the smirk that curls across his disgusting face says otherwise.

Your grip tightens on the book with every stomp forward he takes. He loses his balance when he reaches you, his hand curling around the arm of the chair to keep from falling. He swings forward, breath ghosting over your face. You crinkle your nose and look away. His breath is acidic, stained with the toxic stench of alcohol.

“Hi, princess,” he drawls, breath ghosting across your cheek.

“Ugh…”

You strain your neck to lean further away from him. You can hear his saliva when he breathes through his mouth, thick in his throat. He’s practically panting as he slides his hand onto your cheek. You lean away but he’s too strong. His fingers press lazily into your skin to turn your head back to him. You wiggle in the chair, tugging against the bonds.

“Go away, Buck.”

“Such a pretty face…” he coos, dragging his fingers down your throat and onto your collarbones.

Panic starts to jump into your throat as you realize that you’re alone. You consider screaming for help, but you don’t know if anyone else is here right now. Besides, Jongho is the only one of them who would help you, anyway.

“Wonder what’s down here,” he continues, words slurred together. 

His finger dips lower, flirting with the lace along the top of your gown’s bodice. You curl your shoulders inward, place your feet on the floor, and try to scoot away or move frantically to throw off his balance. Nothing works. His manic eyes are trained on your chest, almost bulging from his skull. He licks his lips through heavy mouth-breaths.

“Get off, Buck! You’re drunk!” you shout.

You swing your foot up, trying to kick him. He’s standing on your dress so your leg can’t reach. He just laughs darkly. He hooks his finger onto the lace and starts to pull it down, revealing centimeter by centimeter of your breast. You struggle against him, trying again to kick him or punch him with your bound arms. He moves in, lips hovering by your neck. You shriek, eyes closing tightly.

Somehow, you manage to angle your foot just right. A moment before his disgusting saliva touches your skin, you knock him directly in the crotch. He grunts, hands immediately flying to the area as he stumbles backward. He trips over a bucket and hits the ground. If you weren’t so terrified, you would laugh.

He only stays down for a moment, the alcohol in his blood probably fueling him. He pops back up not a moment later. With that familiar rage in his eyes, he approaches you, rearing up to backhand you. You brace, lifting your head to take it on the chest. You close your eyes and prepare for pain.

It never comes.

Instead, a voice.

“I warned you.”

Jongho.

You open your eyes to see Buck’s fist wavering in the air, encircled by Jongho’s hand. Buck looks uncharacteristically terrified. It makes perfect sense. Without a gun, Buck is nothing, especially compared to Jongho. His raw strength is probably triple what skinny, lanky Buck’s is. Jongho could overpower him and make it look easy, just like he’s doing right now.

“You don’t touch her,” Jongho continues, voice deep and raw. “You lay a finger on her again, I will kill you myself. And I’ll be slow.”

You watch, breathless, as Buck physically shrinks under Jongho’s stare. You’ve never seen anger like it before. It looks wrong on Jongho. But it works. Buck nods, gulping. He glances at you, the fear obvious in his eyes, and then staggers out of the cabin.

Jongho closes his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. Then, he looks over at you. It’s incredible, the way his anger melts into softness so quickly.

“You alright?” he asks, his tone gentler than it was just a few seconds ago.

You can’t speak. All you can do is nod. Your heart is pounding but not from fear. It almost feels like you need to cry, but no tears are anywhere in sight. The emotion sits heavy in your chest, though you’re not sure what exactly it is.

Jongho’s jaw clenches. He looks at you for a moment before ducking out of the cabin.

You don’t see him for the rest of the afternoon or evening, which isn’t abnormal. But when he comes in that night, he seems tense. The silence feels different…heavy. Something feels wrong. He unties you, as normal. Slides you dinner and water, as normal. Sits on his bucket and cleans his gun and reads, as normal. But he doesn’t talk, doesn’t smile, doesn’t even try to engage you in any way.

Your stomach feels like it has a rock in it. You feel sick, and you hate it.

When you’re finished eating, you fetch the ointment for your wrists. They’ve healed enough, you can probably do it yourself. You sit on the blanket that has become your makeshift bed and pop open the can.

“What’re you doin’?” he asks.

You look over at him.

“Putting on the ointment. As usual.”

Disapproval crosses his face. He closes the book and comes to sit by you.

“I can do it,” you offer. “I think they’re healed enough that I ca-”

“Hush.”

Your lips snap shut; you don’t argue. You hand over your wrists. He dips a finger into the ointment and takes your wrist in his palm. You normally watch as he applies it. This time, you watch his face while he works. His eyebrows furrow in concentration. His mouth quivers just slightly as he tries not to hurt you. His fingertips are surprisingly soft, gentle as always. He holds your arm like a wounded bird, firm enough that you can’t escape, but not too tight. His finger swipes along the pink lines, brushing the ointment onto your skin. Goosebumps rise on your skin when his thumb glides along your pulse point. Your mouth falls open involuntarily. He’s like an artist perfecting a painting.

His touch is gone as quickly as it began. You clear your throat and turn away to hide the heat that creeps up your cheeks.

“I’m pretty tired. I’m gonna just go to sleep, now,” you say.

“I’ll be over here if you need anythin’.”

He nods, offering a tight-lipped smile. You return it. You spin away from him, curling up under the blanket and willing yourself to go to sleep.

Unfortunately, nature has other plans this evening.

It’s freezing.

You can’t remember ever being so cold at night during the summertime before. But you are tonight. You clutch the blanket up by your chin, but shivers rack your entire body. You shut your eyes harder, trying to ignore it. But you can’t. You just keep shuddering.

“You alright, princess?” Jongho asks.

You wince. He noticed. Steeling yourself, you reply, “Mhm. Fine.”

“You sure?”

“Y-yes,” you reply, cursing yourself when your shivers make you stutter.

A beat of silence passes before you hear him rummaging around. Then, you hear his boots as he walks over toward you. You hold the blanket with white knuckles. He stops behind you. Your entire body tenses as you try not to shake. Your heart stops at the feeling of his hand on your shoulder.

“You’re shiverin,’” he mumbles.

“I’m j-just a little c-cold,” you counter. “I’ll be f-fine.”

Your eyes remain stubbornly shut, so it’s a bit of a surprise when you feel him slide between the blankets behind you. You go stiff as a corpse when the solid wall of his chest hits your back. One strong arm slides around your waist, pulling you back against him.

“Er…” you say, not really meaning to.

“Relax, princess,” he mumbles into your hair. “I don’t have any extra blankets, so if you wanna stop shiverin’ this is the only way to do it.”

You gulp. But you don’t argue. You would never tell him, but it feels good. You fit perfectly in his arms. The way he holds you feels nice. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat, his breathing. And he’s warm. His heat seeps through your clothes, as if it was swimming into your bones. Your eyes flutter closed.

Minutes pass…or hours, you can’t be sure. The fire outside crackles low. You hear a wolf howling in the distance.

“Why?” you whisper into the dark. “Why do you keep saving me?”

“Hmm?” he asks, voice thick with sleepiness.

“At the bank, you stopped Buck from shooting me. You gave me food, water, ointment for the burns. You untied me, made me a bed, gave me a book to read. And today…today you saved me again, from Buck. Why? And don’t lie this time.”

He’s still for so long you think he’s fallen asleep. Then his arm tightens, pulling you impossibly closer.

“My brother, Jinho,” he replies, voice raw. “He’s twenty years old. But his lungs…they don’t…they don’t work right. When he breathes, it sounds like he’s drownin’. It’s like he’s got water inside his throat or somethin’. There’s medicine for it, but it costs fifty dollars a bottle.” His voice cracks slightly. “That’s why I do this. Rob banks, kidnap people for ransom, whatever it is. That’s why I ride with Buck. ‘Cause I…I need the money. But I…but that’s not why I’m protectin’ you.”

You feel him swallow against your shoulder blade. You twist in his arms until you’re face-to-face. Your noses are inches away from one another, moonlight cutting through the cracked windows to paint your faces silver. His eyes are glassy. He reaches out, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, grazes your jaw with his knuckles.

“I like you,” he whispers. “I don’t want you hurt. You’re…” he laughs nervously, eyes flicking down and then back up. “You’re the most beautiful thing I ever laid eyes on. And it ain’t just your face, princess. It’s…everything about you. The fire inside you. I just…”

Your stomach is swimming in circles, and everything feels in vibration. Your chest grows tight with adrenaline, with excitement, with need. The tips of your fingers ache to touch him. So, you do. You reach out, fingers snagging on his mouth. You feel his unsteady breath on your skin. Eyes trained on him, your lips part.

“Jongho,” you breathe.

You don’t know who moves first. One second there’s an inch of air between you, and the next your mouth is on his. He kisses like a starving man. His lips open wide, bringing you deeper into him. Your fingers curl into his shirt, pulling so hard you think you’ve unlatched a button. His palm wraps around your back, protecting your spine when he rolls forward. His hips press you down into the blanket. One of your hands slides up his neck and into his hair. He kisses you deeply but softly. He angles his head so that his nose brushes your cheekbone with every new kiss.

His free hand rests on the nape of your neck, fingers outstretched to support your head. His tongue swipes along your bottom lip; you open without question. He groans quietly into your mouth, tongue tangling with yours. He tastes like coffee and smoke. You want to drink him in forever. Your fingers slip from his collar and slide onto the bare skin of his chest. You feel nothing but muscle. A gasp slips from your lips, and he hesitates and pulls back.

You look up at him as you try to catch your breath. He gazes down at you, eyes hazy but focused on your face.

“Oh shit…I’m sorry,” he says breathlessly. “Christ, I’m sorry.”

“What for? Why’d you stop?” you ask, wriggling underneath him. Your eyes flick down to his lips and then back up.

He laughs, smile crooked.

“This can’t be right…this…this can’t be real. You’re so fine and clean and goddamn pretty. You’re worth a hundred of me. I’m just…I’m dirt, I’m nothin’. And I’m takin’ advantage of you. I’m usin’ you for ransom money. I don’t deserve this. You. I don’t deserve it. It’s-”

You lunge up and capture his lips again. You lick into his mouth, sliding against his tongue, until he relaxes against you again. When you pull back, you peck him one more time.

“I don’t give a shit,” you say. His eyes flash open, clearly surprised that a woman of your station knows such a dirty word. “And I’m not some kinda fragile doll. I want this. I want you. I don’t care what happens tomorrow. I just want you to make me feel somethin’ tonight.”

He sighs deeply. His eyes are impossibly soft and needy, like a puppy’s. His pupils are blown huge, lashes fluttering. There’s nothing left in them but pure, unguarded worship. You swallow a moan and kiss him again, slower, deeper. The blanket gets twisted around your legs. His hand finds its way under your skirts, mouth on your collarbones. You arch against him, begging for it.

He gives you everything you ask for and more.

Later, you find yourself lying on top of him. Your cheek rests on his chest, and you listen to his heartbeat. His fingers trace lazy shapes on your bare shoulder.

“I can get you the money,” you say into the quiet, words tumbling out.

“Hm?” he asks.

You spin in his grasp, bracing yourself on his chest so that you can look at him.

“The money that you need to pay for your brother’s medicine,” you explain. “I can get it for you. Enough for every dose he’ll ever need.”

His eyebrows knit and then he shakes his head.

“I…no. No, I can’t. I can’t accept it.”

“Take me home tomorrow,” you push. “I’ll tell my daddy you rescued me. We’ll blame it all on Buck and the others. My daddy’ll pay anythin’ to get me back safe, and I can guarantee he’ll pay even more as a reward to the man who brought back his daughter.”

He stares at you for a moment. Then, his jaw tightens.

“They’ll kill me the second they hear my name, princess.”

“No, they won’t. Not if I say you’re the hero.”

He scoffs.

“How can that even be possible? Even with a reward from your daddy, fifty dollars a month is…”

He looks unconvinced. You smile teasingly, reaching up and dragging a finger down his chest. He shudders underneath your touch.

“Trust me, Jongho. I got a way of always gettin’ what I want, especially when it comes to Daddy.”

He searches your face for a long time. Then, his expression softens. He smiles sweetly and slides a palm onto your face. You lean into his touch. His thumb brushes along your swollen bottom lip. He nods.

“Alright,” he whispers. “I trust you.”

Neither of you sleep a wink. Instead, you spend the early morning hours planning your escape. As soon as the sun starts to bleed pink across the sky, you grab what you need and hop onto his horse. Used to sneaking into places he doesn’t belong, Jongho is an expert at stealth. He helps you up, unbound this time. He wraps his arm around you, palm splayed possessively over your stomach.

And you take off back toward town. You guide him and, within the hour, you find yourself at home.

Jongho’s horse slows to a stop in front of the big white house on the hill, the one with the wrap-around porch and the Harrington crest carved into the gate. He scoffs behind you.

“Buck would drop dead if he saw this,” he muses.

You playfully smack his shoulder. He helps you dismount, and you make your way to the door. Before you can even knock, the large oak door swings open. Your fist suspended in the air looks quite odd beside the face of your family’s maid. She shrieks in delight.

“Miss Harrington! Oh thank God!” she shouts. “We didn’t think we’d ever get you back! Oh, the mister and missus!”

Without another word, the maid spins on her heel and goes dashing up the stairs, yelling, “Mr. Harrington! Mrs. Harrington! The miss is home! Miss Harrington is home!”

You smile sweetly, imagining how terrified everyone in the house must have been. Most of the staff had worked for your parents longer than you’d been alive. They knew you when you were just a baby.

Doors slam and footsteps echo. Your mother appears first, wrapped in a robe with her hair still done up in her nightly braid. With one hand pressed to her heart, she flies down the steps. She’s sobbing before she even reaches you.

She engulfs you in a hug, and you wince as she knocks against your wounded wrists. You glance up at the stairs to see your father, eyes glassy, standing at the top. He descends quickly and melts onto you and your mother. Their arms enclose you so tightly that you think you might be choked to death. You breathe deeply, inhaling the familiar scent of cedar and tobacco that belongs to your father.

You feel your father go stiff and gasp as you remember Jongho’s presence. Looking at your rescuer over your shoulder, you immediately notice how uncomfortable he seems. He shifts his weight from foot to foot. Backing away from your parents, you move to stand beside him.

“Darling, who is this man?” your father asks, voice harsh. It’s the same tone he always uses in business deals.

“This is Choi Jongho,” you answer. You take hold of his arm and smile at him. “He saved me.”

Jongho’s body is tense, but you feel him relax a bit when he looks down at you. Your father steps forward.

“Is that so? You brought my little girl home?” Mr. Harrington booms.

Jongho gulps but straightens.

“Yes, sir. I did.”

You don’t wait for gratitude or questions. You intertwine your fingers with Jongho's. The entire staff has gathered, spilling out from the main foyer into the hallways and other rooms attached to it.

“Daddy,” you announce, clear and loud, “Jongho and I are gonna be married.”

Silence drops like a curtain.

Your mother’s mouth falls open. Your father blinks, once, twice, like he’s been shot but just hasn’t felt it yet. One of the servants drops a silver tray he was holding. It clangs against the marble floor, the sound echoing throughout the foyer. You feel Jongho stiffen again beside you. You see him staring at you from the corner of your eye, but you don’t budge.

“Princess—” Jongho mutters.

You squeeze his hand to silence him and turn to face your father fully, chin high. You paste on the same spoiled little smile you’ve worn since you were six years old.

“I know exactly what I want, Daddy,” you say, loud enough for half the county to hear. “And I want him.”

Your father stares at Jongho—at the quiet, broad-shouldered man beside you. Something shifts behind your Daddy’s eyes. It always happens like this when you’re working hard to get what you want. Your father exhales deeply, drags a hand through his silver hair, and finally nods.

“Well,” he says, voice still raspy from sleep, “if this is what you want, my darling girl, then it’s what you’ll get.”

Jongho opens his mouth—probably to argue with you that he’s not worthy of you. But you don’t let him get a single syllable out. You raise up on your tiptoes, grab hold of his dusty brown shirt, and kiss him right there in front of everyone.

When you pull back, Jongho’s eyes are sparkling, lips curling up into the biggest, softest smile you’ve ever seen. The cheer that erupts from the servants rattles the windows in the house. You giggle, nuzzling into his side.

EPILOGUE

You pull the white sleeve down over the scar on your wrist that has never healed properly. As you glance up, you see something unusual in the reflection: simplicity. The girl looking back wears a simple white muslin gown. No diamonds today, just wildflowers tucked between plaited hair and the silver band already on your left finger.

The organ starts up. The door to your dressing room opens wide. Your father steps in, smiling.

“Ready, my darling?” he asks.

“Absolutely.”

Sunlight pours into the church like liquid gold. It coats all of the white flowers, bathes the wedding guests in soft, warm light. But you hardly notice it. Your eyes are fixed on the end of the aisle.

He looks so handsome. No hat, hair combed neatly. His face is clean of dirt and grime, the black suit that hugs his frame fits perfectly to his body. He looks every inch the respectable rancher your father has transformed him into.

Buck and his gang were captured, arrested, and charged about twenty miles from Harrington Bank & Trust. A couple of the members got away with jailtime, but most of them were sentenced and hanged within the week. Jongho struggled with it all, at first. He felt responsible, as if he had led those men to their deaths. But you, as always, knew just what to say. Jongho became a better man; as much as you might have influenced him onto the path, he made the decision. His previous work associates could have done the same at any time. They didn’t. You know it still bothers him, but you’ll be there every day to remind him to go easy on himself if that's what it takes.

When you step up to the altar, Jongho reaches out to take your hands from your father’s grasp. You stifle a giggle when he winks at you. You squeeze his fingers. The preacher pronounces you man and wife. Jongho wraps his arms around you, dipping you back and kissing you silly.

At the reception, everyone dances and drinks and laughs. Just as you always imagined it. Jongho is pulled into a dance with your mother. He glances back at you nervously, but you just laugh and shrug. A young man with dark hair and eyes approaches you. He startles you so much you almost spill your champagne.

“Congratulations,” he says quietly.

“Oh, thank you very much!” you reply with a smile. You tilt your head. “I’m sorry, have we met? You look so familiar…” As the young man smiles, it hits you. You gasp. “Jinho? Jongho’s brother?”

His grin widens, and he nods. He looks incredibly healthy. Overwhelmed with emotion, you lurch forward and capture him in a hug. He chuckles but hugs you back.

“I wanted to thank you,” he says when you separate. “Not just for helpin’ me get better, but for makin’ Jongho so happy. He’s been worried ‘bout me for so long, I didn’t know if he’d ever be happy again. But you’ve made him happy, happier than I’ve ever seen him. So, thank you, for everythin’.”

You smile, tears pricking at your eyes. As if on cue, Jongho saunters up. His cheeks are red from all the dancing and the liquor. Jinho is right, he does look happy. Incandescently happy. Jongho hugs his brother then turns to you. Eyes sparkling, he takes your hand and steps closer.

“Would you care to get some air with me?” he whispers into your ear.

You squint your eyes in suspicion but nod. He leads you outside onto the balcony. The air is cold, but he pulls you close. You rest your head on his shoulder as you stare up at the night sky.

“You like that suit, huh?” you tease, smirking up at him.

“What is that ‘sposed to mean?” he asks defensively.

You bite your lip.

“You feel good in it. I can tell. I’m glad. It was expensive.”

He laughs, pulling you closer.

“Never thought I’d wind up here. In an expensive suit, standing on the balcony of an estate, arm around the prettiest, richest, most spoiled little princess I ever saw.”

You giggle, playfully smacking his arm. His smile fades for a moment. He drags his knuckles across your cheekbone.

“Sometimes it still feels like I stole somethin’ too fine for me,” he says quietly.

You smile.

“Well, beauty’s in the eye of the beholder, as they say,” you reply. “Good thing you’re just as pretty as me.”

His cheeks puff for a moment before he bursts into laughter. You slide your arms around his torso, resting your chin on his chest. He kisses the top of your head.

The music’s still playing inside. But out here, the only thing that matters is the steady beat of his heart under your palm and the little diamond on your finger that says your ransom’s been paid in full.

taglist: @rileylovescats @wooyoungsbrat @estrnrea @strawberrymars98 @elunicornus

He helped you over some broken rubble, jumping ahead after you were safe on the other side. Suddenly Jongho's radio erupted with static, before a hurried voice cut through. 

“Sector 1 is compromised. They know we anticipated their attack and are now heading towards the safehouse.” the group leader low voice was suddenly cut. A wet crunch was heard before it turned silent. 

“Well, we need to go there then,” Jongho reached up, dialing the new route into his radar. 

“The safehouse on sector 1… that´s where the young ones showing signs of being affected are.” 

“Them. That´s what they are after.” 

The government's unification force was now ready to start attacking until the rebellion was eliminated. But Jongho knew they wouldn't dare attack the safehouse if there was any chance of anyone with signs of being possessors of Adrenaline there. They were going to raid it, and kidnap the young ones away. 

“We need to be fast, can you walk?” He asked, his big and kind eyes showing that familiar shine even through his mask. You nodded, and his eyes turned faintly into crescent moons. His smile, the more reassuring sign that always managed to keep you calm. “Let´s go.”

After a while, once you were far away from the area of the initial blast, Jongho removed his mask, and you followed. “The other unit is heading there too, but from the other side. There's the possibility that soldiers are waiting for us there already.” 

“If we don´t go, everyone there is dead. Or worse.” 

“I know,” Jongho slowly lowered his hand, his dark eyes met yours. “Just be ready, for anything.”

“I am, and I also know you got me.” you smiled. 

Jongho stared at you for a long, heavy second. He didn't add anything else. He knew you were strong, and also that you knew how strong he really was. He basically could shatter bones and send people across rooftops when triggered. He also knew the cost of being a possessor of Adrenaline better than anyone. 

Jongho was thankful to you for being one of the few that didn't fear him because of it.

Soon you were about to get into a tunnel where radiation was high, little dust of the high levels would cook you from the inside out. 

“Keep your filter tight” he advised, unstrapping the heavy iron visor from his pack and fitting it over your head. 

After having geared up, you both entered the tunnel. The radioactive sandstorm swallowed you whole the moment you stepped in. The wind howled. The sand was of a crimson color that when seen from above, could have been a beautiful sight. Once outside of the tunnel, the sky was of an unnatural sickly violet color, and you could even see the static flickering around you. 

Every step felt heavy, like pushing against a wall. Jongho, walking before you with ease, hid you behind his heavy frame, shielding you against the crushing wind. 

Then, it started.

A sudden pinch of heat at the center of your head. It quickly evolved into a violent, agonizing spike of heat that flooded your veins like lava instead of blood. Your heart, it slammed against your ribs violently, so hard you felt the vibrations in your teeth. 

“What- What is happening? Jongho…”

Your vision flared into blinding lights. The sandstorm suddenly sounded agonizingly loud, so much you could hear individual grains of sand scraping against your chest plate. The air grew impossibly thick even with your mask on. Panic overwhelmed you. Then you stumbled, sinking your knee into the ground, and like that, grasping for air, you blacked out.

Jongho kneeled down, holding you tight, asking you to respond. “Hey! Hey- what is it? Did your seal break? Answer me!” His heavy gloved hands reached for your respirator, but as his fingers brushed your neck, he froze. 

The terrifying rapid pulse. The unnatural heat radiating through your skin that he could feel even through your heavy clothes and his gloved hand. It was so insane that it was melting the frost off your collar. He pulled the fabric over your neck a little, seeing the faint, iridescent veins pulsing wildly through your neck. 

A sudden breakthrough of Adrenaline manifestation.

“No- this can't be…” Jongho´s breath hitched in his throat. His voice terrified, suddenly he was more afraid in this moment than any of those moments where he nearly faced death. 

He knew the glow too well. He had spent years suffering through the stages, the burning skin, the loss of breathing as he got used to controlling his own powers. Now, he was a master of it. He had to learn how to be able to save and fight for those who needed him. Now, he could lift a two ton steel tank and throw it over a bunch of soldiers' heads, all while keeping his heart rate under control, enough not to die from it. But that had been taking years of enduring insufferable pain, and almost the cost of his life on several occasions.

Jongho repeatedly shrugged, his voice cracking for the first time in so long. his hands trembled as he held your face. “Not you, not you please…” 

Being a rebel was one thing. The government didn't keep rebels, they killed them first chance they could. It was different for Adrenaline hosts. They were tracked down, fed synthetic triggers, their minds and bodies broken apart in order to harvest their powers. 

“Jongho…” you choked out, your hands clawing at your chest. You were burning, feeling like you were going to burst into flames like the explosion you witnessed earlier. “It hurts-I´m burning…” 

“Look at me!” Jongho commanded, desperation in his eyes. This was not a look you were used to seeing on him. He grabbed your wrist, squeezing it tight. You could feel his pressure forcefully enough to ground your mind and focus on him. “Look at me, breathe with me". You forced your gaze onto him. “Breathe with me,” he repeated, his pulse steady, slow. You could feel it even through your heavy clothes. “Control the heat. Don´t let it take you. Breathe in and out and regulate your temperature. You can do it.” Jongho knew that if you didn't, your heart would be burnt before you could reach any shelter. “Fight it. Push it back.” 

You gasped, tearing air into your lungs, trying to mirror his breathing pace. Slowly you fought through the aching, burning sensation. Slowly; agonizingly; the heat went from boiling to that of a mild fever, leaving you shivering. 

“Hey, hey I'm right here” Jongho quickly held you tight, your head resting over his arm. “You did it, attagirl.” He smiled, and you tried to smile back, but you only managed to press your lips together. “Slow, let me handle you.” He pulled you up, wrapping his arm around your waist for support. He didn't speak anymore but his tight grip was strong enough so you could practically drop all your weight on him without worrying about falling back. 

Jongho moved forward, practically carrying you with one arm. Now with a dilemma over his head: the soldiers were heading towards the safehouse for sure. They were after the few people showing signs of Adrenaline, they knew they were kept safe there. He needed to re-route, but first he needed to make sure if any other member group was heading there, otherwise you would never forgive him for not going to help them.

He tried his radio a few times, to contact anyone who would confirm they were heading towards the safe house or were already there. He was about to give up when the static noise started. 

“Jongho? Where are you?” [….]´s unit is close to sector 1 safehouse…”

“I need to re-route… […] is not well, she- she is showing early stages of adrenaline. I don´t know why it triggered just now, but it´s bad…” 

Jongho waited a few seconds, that seemed way longer. The leader replied back.

“Go to the subterranean shelter, the one passing sector 3. We supplied that one last, you´ll be good for a while there. Let me know when you guys are ready to join us.” 

Jongho thanked him, turning the radio off and kept sprinting straight. His speed was needed to get to the shelter quickly, but he needed to be careful not to harm you in any way. Your whimpers of pain were making his chest ache. He realized that now it was about something bigger for him, than just helping the rebellion. It was about keeping you safe. 

After a while, the Sector 3 shelter secret door appeared before Jongho. To anyone else it might have been an abandoned bunker, covered in dust and rubble. And it was, unless you knew where to look for the secret hatch the rebellion had prepared for when they needed to use it. 

Jongho lifted the heavy steel with ease, anyone else would have needed the help of at least two more to be able to enter. The air inside was thick with the stench of rust, but for a moment, the silence inside felt safe. Once safely inside, he then didn´t waste any second. Immediately lowered his shoulder, gently guiding you until your back rested against the nearest cot. The relief of being out of the crushing wind was instant, but your veins still hummed beneath your skin.

“I´ve got you,” he murmured, his voice sweet and gentle, an emotion he only had reserved for you. Then he removed his gloves, tossing them onto the dusty floor. He unbuckled your visor, lifting it off gently so he wouldn´t hurt you or pull your hair. He took your respirator off, and the cool stale air of the shelter hit your face. You let out a weak breath.

He sank to his knees in front of you, reaching out with his bare palm to cup the side of your neck where the faint, iridescent veins were still pulsing, though much slower now. 

“Jongho- I'm sorry.” you whispered, raising your shaky hand and curling your fingers against his wrist. “I don´t know why this is happening to me, but I´m sorry I´m slowing us down. The safehouse, we need to--” 

“Shh. Stop that.” he cut you off softly, dismissing you with a shake of his hand. He then took your hand between his, and you could feel his warmth, but not the type that was burning you inside, but the gentle softness of his skin against yours, calming you. "Don´t you dare to apologize for that,” He whispered, his eyes focusing over yours. Up close, his dark eyes weren´t just kind, they were shining with so much sincerity.

His thumb then lightly stroke your cheek, wiping away a smudge of crimson dust mixed with sweat. “I got in contact, there are units handling Sector 1, I knew you would kill me if I didn't make sure they were taking care of it. My priority now is keeping you safe and helping you go through this.”

You were too tired to refute, knowing that by how you were feeling it was stupid of you to even suggest going there yourself. Right now you were more helpful by not making the soldiers know about your state. Jongho was strong, but if they decided to come for you in groups he would have a hard time; they were already close once. You would never forgive yourself for having him killed by slowing him down trying to keep you safe. 

“You should leave me here while I'm like this, keep moving forward and-”

Before you could finish he pulled back just an inch, his eyes scanning every line of your face with a reprimand look. He slowly, deliberately reached up and unzipped his heavy vest, shrugging it off to break down the barrier between you. He leaned in and pulled you into his arms, wrapping his thick frame around you like a shield. He then tucked your head securely under his chin. 

“When I realized what was happening to you out there,” his voice cracked slightly, his grip around your waist tightening. “My heart stopped. I´ve faced an army twice, I´ve broken many bones and fought through steel in order to keep our group safe, and I have never felt fear like I did seeing you like that back there". 

You squeezed your eyes shut. Wrapped in his warmth, hearing the steady thumb of his heart against your ear. Slow, controlled, making you feel calm and helping you level down the heat inside your own body. You could feel as if he was hurting by your touch, but he endured and held you tight and softly. Leaning your full weight into him, burying your face on the crook of his neck, you felt a comforting lingering kiss into the top of your head. Jongho held it there for a long, quiet second. 

“You are crazy if you think I´m gonna let you end up in a lab,” his voice lowering. “I´m gonna teach you how to control it, step by step”.

“Jongho,” you murmured back. The fear began to melt away, trusting entirely in Jongho´s words, who had never failed you before, you started to feel like breathing regularly again. “I trust you.” 

Jongho pulled back just enough to look into your eyes again. A faint, genuine smile broke through the evident tension on his face, his eyes turning into those reassuring crescent moons you loved so much. You recognized the shimmer over his eyes. 

And so, he kissed you.

Like many times before, when you two are on guard on silent nights; or when you can´t sleep and you end up in his small dorm, just to slide down beside him and hold him tight. Like those many times, his thumb traced your bottom lip before leaning in and pressing his soft lips against yours. You had kissed Jongho many times before, the untold words of confession, lingering in the air everytime you did. Though never spoken, that's what it was. Love. The quiet and deeply sweet brushing of his lips was sincere and full of it. 

At some point, you pulled out, and met his eyes, filled with a clear resolve. 

“Rest now,” he said, helping you lean your head back into the cot´s heading. “I´ll keep watch.” 

You woke up some time after, mouth dry and head spinning, but at least your heart was beating normally and your temperature slowly became regular again. You didn't see Jongho there, he was probably outside keeping an eye to see if anyone was close yet. You were going to suggest to keep moving now that you felt somehow back to normal, not knowing when the violent symptoms were going to come back to you so it was better to keep moving and join the others as soon as possible.

Just then, Jongho stepped down, looking relieved you woke up seemingly feeling better. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” he got closer, handing you a water bottle. You took it, finishing in one go. He chuckled, realizing the good sign. “I was up, seems to be clear but we can't let our guard down.” 

“We need to move quickly, get to the others, they might need help. Have you talked to anyone?”

“Radio´s dead. And no, we ain´t moving, I'm not risking you having a sudden outburst again out there.”

“I feel fine now-” 

“It´s gonna come back, anytime soon, we need to go through what you're gonna do when it happens first.”

“Yes, but while we are sitting here our group might be having trouble-”

“I trust they can handle it. And you should too, we have trained together for so long you know they would do anything they can to keep everyone safe, same as we would.” Jongho spoke firmly but tenderly. He sat down in front of you, his face softening from his stern expression, though his eyes were still serious. “I know you are terrified, I was too,” He took your hand, brushing your knuckles softly. “Going back there not knowing if your powers gonna spur you out at any time is too dangerous, we need to figure out what kind of ability you have now, and work towards controlling it.” 

You swallowed. He was right. What if you lost control completely next time?

“I´m gonna help you, you ain't alone in this.” 

You nodded. “Alright, what should I do if it comes back?” 

He stood up and you followed. “The heat. You need to learn to keep it cool, not let it burn you inside. You felt like burning alive, right? It was because your body was trying not to let it out, you were trying to keep it in so you wouldn´t hurt others. Well, you need to let it bleed out from you, slowly let it go so it doesn't take control.” 

“Let it rise, don´t panic.” 

“Yeah. It's gonna hurt at first, but you need to focus, your mind controls it, you need to be able to make it work for you. Even if it comes out with a punch, focus your energy on one point, let it out from your hand for example. That's what I do, I focus my energy on my fist, legs or head, it depends who and where I want to land my blow.” He smirks. 

“I´ve seen you use your strength so many times, I never-- it hurts?”

“Everytime, but just for a second. I control it.” 

You looked down at your hands. “What kind of ability would it be? I know it's random, but, can I know depending on my symptoms?” 

“No idea yet, it manifests differently depending on the body.” 

“I hate that we don´t know much about this whole thing… it would make everything easier if we did,” Jongho nodded. “Okay,” you whispered, sudden strength coming back to your body feeling the tight hold of Jongho's hands over yours. "Let's practice.” 

For the next couple of days, the spike of heat traveling up from your gut sliding up your throat continues to come up.  Jongho held you tight everytime, counting out slowly but loud, guiding your breathing. 

“… two, three, four. Hold it. That's right. Now, out.” he repeated gently, slowly, fingers tracing delicate circles over your palm until the wild energy simmered down. You were left tired everytime, but thanks to Jongho´s help the pain you felt back then in the sandstorm didn't reach the same intensity yet. 

By the third night, the fever had almost disappeared, leaving behind only a warm, soothing hum. Jongho advised not to let your guard down, as the spike could come at any time. 

Without noticing it, the night was fully settled. Jongho was the only one taking post out to be sure no one had been closer to find the bunker so you started to grow a little impatient, wanting to get out for some night air. 

“All good, the radio worked for a bit, the people inside the safehouse on Sector 1 are safe with the rest, they're heading North now, we should be following them soon.” Jongho entered the bunker, holding an oil lamp to light up the small room. 

You were lying on the cot, head resting comfortably. “You had been quiet today,” you said, resting your head over your arm. Jongho got closer, laying beside you. Out of habit, you laid your head comfortably on his chest. His arm wrapped around your waist, fingers idly playing with the ends of your hair. A sudden sense of calm filled the space, almost surreal after the tension of the past days.

Jongho let out a soft laugh, “Just been thinking about everything, how to move without being noticed, how this could have happened to you now, usually it manifests when we are way younger.” He paused, fingers tightening slightly around your waist, pulling you closer. 

You shifted, propping yourself up on an elbow to look up at him. “Jongho?” you reached out, your eyes meeting his dark gaze. “Why haven't we ever say it?” 

His body stiffened but he let out a tender smile. He reached up, cupping your cheek, brushing his fingers against your warm skin. “Saying it, makes us feel vulnerable,” the unsaid words hung heavy between you, years of glances, kisses, stolen touches and life or death fights together that meant way more than just comradeship. “We risk our lives every day, every day… could be our last. If I say it, I´d be giving them a chance to take you away from me, forever.” 

“Who´s them?” you hummed.

“I don´t know, the pigs coming after us? the universe?” He swallowed, his throat moving as he searched for your eyes. “If I admit how much you mean to me, If I say it out loud; it would make me weak. It would make me weak when you need me to be strong.”

Your heart squeezed tightly. “As if you could ever be weak.” you chuckled and sat up, facing him directly. “Loving you is the only thing that keeps me fighting, that makes me want to win this war and build something better for us.”

“You know, how completely ruined I'd be without you” he whispered. “I know I haven´t said the words, but I´m sure I have made you feel how much you mean to me, haven't I?.”

You longed for the words, yes, but he was right. There wasn't a day when he didn't make you feel like you were the most important person in his life. As though times were, and how fighting for survival was a daily thing for you, he always found a way to make you feel special. Like right now, helping you control a sudden condition you didn´t ask for, and that he spent years suffering from alone. But as he said, now you had him, and that made all the difference.

“Hmm?” He studied your face, leaning slowly forward. “What are you thinking about?” 

“That I love you so much.” His lips parted slightly, eyes shining in the dark. “You don´t have to say it back. I know you do too".

He scanned your face, then he finally cut the space between you and crushed his lips against yours. Jongho's kisses always started slow and innocent, but he quickly deepened it into a fierce and desperate one. He pulled back just an inch, taking a good look at your face. “Let me show you,” his voice deepened. 

He started kissing you again, still desperate and you let out a soft hum into his lips, he reacted with a moan of his own, quick hands reaching out for your waist. Your own hands were to his shoulders as he easily moved you until you were on his lap, each leg hugging his hips. This way he could easily roam through your body, which he started doing at the same time he kissed you deeply. You stroked his hair, and his hands brushed the soft curves of your back and hips. 

“How sweet,” you smiled against his lips.

“Sweet? you want me to get rough already?” He smiled back, brushing his nose against yours. "Just say the word.”

“Hmm. Yes, maybe I do want you to get rough.” you whispered shakily. 

He pulled back just an inch, voice dropping into a tender whisper. “I love you. I love you so fucking much.” 

You moaned against his lips, leaning back to start kissing again. Your skin started to burn again but differently, the spark wasn´t causing you pain like before, it was making your insides spiral and you suddenly felt like wanting to be devoured by him, literally. “Jongho,” you breathed out, it made you feel a bit shy but to say what you wanted. 

“What is it? Tell me,” he prompted you, dark eyes scanning your face. 

“All this time you had been so gentle with me, this time I want you to let go, fuck me good.” 

Jongho scoffed softly, a faint smirk over his face. “How good?” he started kissing your neck, earning a whimper out of you. 

“Please be rough, I need it, I´m burning inside” He turned up to face you, worried the symptoms were coming back but you caressed his chest, reassuring that this time what you felt was different. “Just do it.”

“Alright,” he said, tone sweet, but you knew it was a disguise of what was coming to you. He continued down your neck, soft lips tracing patterns all over it. "I'll try my best, but do tell me if I'm crossing any lines.”

You nodded. Eager to know what he would say or do next. “I´m ready.”

Jongho continued roaming his hands all over your back, his soft lips going from your lips to your neck. Once he was fully back into your lips, he kissed you deeper again. God, he loves your lips so, so much. He moaned softly against the kiss and you reacted the same way. You could feel the heat swirling at the center of where you needed him the most. He hurriedly removed his tactical vest and his black shirt after that. You stopped to admire his bronze skin and his muscles, that you didn´t get to see much since he´s always all geared up. The very few times you glanced over him while he changed clothes he always got flustered and turned back instantly. 

He didn't show it to anyone else but you, that sweet, caring side.

He helped you remove your own shirt, whining when he confirmed you didn't have anything else on. You grabbed him by the shoulders, pressing your chest into his, wanting to feel his skin against yours harder. He groaned at your urgency. “I thought you wanted me to be the rough one,” He smiled and you grabbed a full of his hair, suddenly unable to stop yourself. “I´m not complaining but I will have to step up.”

“Yeah, you must.” you teased him, biting his lip and continuing to kiss him.

Taking it as a challenge, he stood up from the cot, grabbing you by the waist and lifting you up. Your legs were now around his waist while standing up, and one of his hands shifted to your ass, holding you with ease as he used the other one to remove the buckle of his belt. You gasped, looking down and following his hand movements. You didn´t break your eyes apart until his cock spun free, and the sole sight of his length had you sweating bullets. 

“Eyes up, doll,” he commanded. His eyes were clouded with lust and he lifted you up even more as if you weighed nothing, pushing you against the nearest wall. You received the coldness of the wall with gusto, hugging Jongho by the neck and moaning loudly when he grabbed your pants from the hem at your waist and ripped it off like nothing. “I hope they have some extra clothes here, or you will have to continue the journey naked.” He licked your bottom lip before sticking his tongue inside your mouth without a warning. 

You tilted your head, trying to find the perfect angle in which you could allow him to explore your mouth fully. Jongho bit your lip rather harshly, and you cried, but he didn´t stop. His hands finally ripped off your pants and underwear, tossing what was left of the fabric aside. He aligned your hips so his length was teasing your pussy, already wet with anticipation. He looked down to see his tip already coated with your juices, and smiled, turning his eyes on you. 

He groaned, slowly sliding his cock inside you. You cried at the feel of him stretching you out so good. “You are burning,” he said between clenched teeth. 

“Am I hurting you?” you asked, worried but still numb by the delicious feeling of his cock pushing inside you more deeply than you thought you could handle. 

“Yes, a little,” he said, still pushing until he finally bottomed up. “But I don´t mind.” he groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. 

“Jongho…” you cried, closing your eyes instinctively, just indulging in his movements and how good it felt having him finally between your legs. “Fuck-k. Yes, like that.”

He then shifted walking towards the cot again. He pulled out for a moment and you whined. “Open them wide,” he urged you, after laying you down on the surface of the cot. You adjusted yourself and obeyed. A shiver went down your spine when he palmed your entrance fully, quick legs brushing over your clit for a moment just before he pushed two fingers inside masterfully. His fingers were long and slender, and it was doing wonders finding your sweet spot. 

“Jongho-” you moaned.

“So fucking wet, you´re dripping…” he was admiring your pussy as he worked his fingers on you. His eyes were cloudy and he licked his lips as if he was starving. He met your eyes, fingers doing all sorts of things you didn't even know how much he dreamed to do to you. The sensations were making the knot in your lower stomach explode slowly. “Be good, don´t come yet.” He said bluntly, knowing you might be close already.

“I can't control it, you are doing so- good-d. God” He started scissoring his fingers inside you, and you lost your train of thought. The cry that escaped your lips what's all Jongho needed to hear. 

He smiled, slowly removing his fingers from your pussy and licking them whole all while you watched him doing so. His eyes were dirty and he took his sweet time until he was satisfied. He removed his pants completely and grabbed your legs with each hand, pulling you towards him. He leaned over you, completely covering your form. You could see his cock completely hard and brushing your entrance by how close he was towering you over. With his knee he opened up your legs a bit more, until his cock was aligned again with your entrance. 

Jongho throwed one of your legs over his shoulder, his right hand beside your shoulder. He didn´t say a word, he just pushed inside you, this time in one go, his eyes never leaving yours. You moaned, feeling all of him entering you even more roughly than a moment ago. His fingers had prep you up for taking him from above, your pussy stretching so much you thought he would break you in half.

“I´m going to fuck you up now and I won´t stop until I fill you up good, did you understand?” 

You nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes please.”

“If you want me to stop you will have to be very specific, I won´t stop just by hearing you cry."

You gasped for air, closing your eyes tightly. You could feel your skin becoming hotter by the second, but Jonghgo didn't seem to mind. “I like it, your skin, burning mine cause I´m fucking you good.” He smiled, pushing himself deeper back and forth. Back and forth harshly you thought the cot was going to give up on you any moment. 

You grabbed his face, lips sloppily meeting him in a wet kiss. It was hot and messy and it was sending down waves of pleasure to where you and Jongho were connected, helping you build up your release. He grabbed your other leg and threw it over his shoulder too, now your feet flying in the air over his head. Jongho's breathing was becoming erratic, pushing back and forth inside you all while your skin against his burned so intensely, little waves of pain mixing with the pleasure. His forehead damped, little sweatbeads dripping down his chin into your collarbones. Your cheeks were flushed and your lips swollen from kissing him so much. You could barely keep your eyes open but you tried your best to always maintain them on his.

Jongho was struggling not to use more of his force on you, knowing he could hurt you without even realizing. Your walls tightening and squeezing his cock so good had him losing his mind. Your sounds were another thing making him go insane, you sounded so desperate and beautiful taking him without breaking. You were truly the gift he never thought he deserved.

“Fuck-k. Jongho I-” you cried.

Jongho´s thrusting was so harsh and fast that you couldn´t even finish a sentence. He slammed his cock in and out, your eyes rolling to the back of your head so much it was making you dizzy you had to squeeze them tight. He kneeled on the cot, your legs still over his shoulders where he was keeping them in place. He leaned back to watch how he easily slid in and out of you. Your hands pressing against his chest, trying to ground yourself a little.

“Use your words if you want me to stop.” He urged you.

You shook your head. “No, I- I don't want you to.” you breathed out.

“Want me to fill you up now?” 

You moaned loudly in response. “Yes, Jongho I want all of you, I-” you moaned. Words failed you as your release hit you hard. The waves of pleasure over your lower stomach exploded and were making your skin glow with a red hue. You could see the faint shade of red reflecting on Jongho´s skin. You tried to stop it, you were sure you were hurting him now, he kept his pace and stroked you over again, finally allowing himself to unload on you.

Panting, eyes shut, tongue licking his upper lip. “God, Fuck-k.” He came all inside you with a couple of thrusts more. “Fuck-k” he panted, pulling out. Hot and thick cum spilling out of you. 

You finally opened your eyes, seeing his own skin glow in the dark. “Jongho-” you sat up and hugged him, not caring to make a mess where his load was still going down over your skin and into the cot. “Are you okay?”

Jongho panted, “Are you?,” he pouted. You could feel his skin was burning still. “We ruined this one.” he said, signaling the cot and the mess between your legs. You laughed, pressing a soft kiss on his lips.

“I´m good. Did I hurt you? I could feel literal fire going through my skin.” you said worriedly. 

“I told you I liked it, I'm used to a little pain.” He raised his brow, teasingly. You hugged him, your bodies still warm from the high. “Hey, I think I know what ability you have.” he said, voice lowering down.

You broke the hug. “What is it?," your eyes are shining.

“I think you can control energy,” He helped you sit down, putting his pants on again and walking towards the little sink outside the toilet room to grab some hand towels. “Your eyes were flickering everytime your heart rate was up while I was inside you,” he helped you clean yourself with the cloth. “The lights were flickering too, so I think that´s it.” 

You blinked rapidly. It was good to know what kind of ability you had, this way it would be so much easier to control it, and with Jongho by your side you were sure you could do it without putting your whole group at risk sooner rather than later. 

“Energy.” you repeated slowly.

Later that night, wrapped in each other's arms, you felt completely safe for the first time in a long time. 

Your eyes started to slowly get opened. You stretched your arm, hoping to find Jongho still close to you. Before you could fully wake up, the concrete walls trembled. Outside, a high pitched noise sounded muffled to your ears. You stood up abruptly. 

“Jongho?” you whispered. He was not in the room, not his clothes or gear. You stood up quickly, throwing your shirt and vest over your head, looking for your boots in a rush. “Ahh, Fuck” you cursed, tripping over the laces as you tried to tie them at the same time you walked towards the hatch leading to the bunker´s secret door. “Jongho?” you repeated, this time cleared. No answer. You reached the hatch's lid, sliding it to the side, finding the crushing light of the outside day in your eyes. It blinded you and you had to take a few seconds to continue climbing up. 

Once outside you noticed the pitching sound stopped. It was eerily quiet, until it wasn´t. 

“She´s there!” you heard someone shouting. 

“Go back inside!” you spotted Jongho´s form at the fake entrance of the bunker, he didn't turn to look at you, but was facing what seemed like a tank from back where you were. “Stay Down. Do not come on unless I go back for you myself.” He shouted. 

They had tracked your heat signature. They were going to try to get you alive, and Jongho was about to face them himself. 

“I won't hide, let's fight.” you stubbornly replied. Getting a little closer to him. 

“No!” he shouted and you freezed. “Just hide. Please.” His tone raised but you could hear his desperate tone. “You are not ready yet, let me get this.” 

You were about to repeat yourself too when a barrage of specialized suppression harpoons slammed into the floor around Jongho, high voltage electricity trying to hit him and ground him where he was. The soldiers got off the tank, charging at him. They tried to pin him down, but Jongho didn´t flinch. 

"Don't act like you can fight us all, not with these.” one of them bluffed, signaling the harpoon on his hand. Jongho spotted several dune skimmers waiting around the tank, probably to take you away fast before he could clear them up.

Jongho snarled, throwing his weight into the soldiers' shields, they shot right at him, pushing him slightly back. Jongho smirked. His skin was so used to all kinds of pain that their attacks were still numb against it. If they wanted to immobilize him to get to you, they would need something stronger. 

“You stay back.” He groaned towards you.

Through the haze of smoke, he saw a scout dragging a heavy alloy restraint towards you. He was quick to react but realized that their goal wasn´t getting him down, but distracting him enough to steal you.

He closed his eyes, letting go of all containment he had inside his body. And the soldiers were quick to notice. 

He let out a guttural gasp that tore from his throat as his core temperature striked. Underneath his skin, his veins glowed with iridescent hue, spiderwebbing up his neck and across his face, like shattered glass. His heart was beating so violently that you could even hear them against his ribs like a heavy machine firing inside him. 

You watched him as the whites of his eyes were completely bloodshot. He moved fast with absolute violence as he grabbed the center of the soldier´s shield with one bare hand and tore him away with the soldier´s arm still attached to it. The horrifying sound of screeching steel and the soldier's scream ringed in your head loudly. You were starting to feel agitated again. Suddenly Jongho was beside you, throwing you over his shoulders and moving fast to get you away from the center of the soldier´s group. 

A few meters away he put you down, without a word he moved back to where the soldiers were trying to get at him. You watched as he caught a 200-pound soldier and slammed him through a brick wall, bringing half the ceiling down on the rest of the squad nearby. He picked up the fallen stone with his bare hands and threw it away towards the stationed skimmers, as if they were wood planks thrown at a pile. 

Steam literally rose from his skin, drops of thick blood began to leak from his nose and his heart hammed past human limits, if he continued using the most of his strength his internal organs could explode at any second. 

More soldiers came out the tank throwing energy blasts at him but he kept going forward, picking the men by the neck and snapping them like sticks before throwing the lifeless bodies over the ones that were still coming at him. One after another, you didn´t see where they were coming from, but Jongho continued slamming their heads one by one.

You watched him terrified, knowing he was pushing his limits. “Stop, you´re killing yourself…” you tried to reach him, but your voice got muffled by the knot in your throat. 

He was about to try to reach the tank firing at him when the second team struck.

You had to cover your eyes, the burning heat erupting in your body as an explosion almost got you deaf. What was left of the entrance to the bunker was detonated, so powerfully it covered you in concrete dust. A secondary team cut straight through, bypassing the mess Jongho was causing. 

Then, a massive shape appeared before you. 

You stumbled back, back pressed against a stone pillar. “Get away from me!” you shouted, blood boiling inside you. Literally. 

The soldier didn't speak, just reached out, his heavy metallic gauntlet clamping down onto your neck, pinning you against the concrete. 

And that´s where you snapped. 

His touch, the imminent reality that you were about to be dragged into a glass tank, or being dissected, only to lose your life when they took away what they wanted triggered something in your chest. 

They were going to do worse things than death, unless you stopped them.

Suddenly, a kinetic wave erupting from your chest detonated in a violent shockwave. The air cracked, it filled a big space around you with blinding static. The soldier pinning you down didn´t just get pushed back; the explosive energy threw him fifty feet through the air, his body shattering the concrete pillar all the way where Jongho was fighting the remaining squad. His body hit the dirt, motionless.

Radars, radios and electronic weapons died at the same time you erupted with energy. Only the light coming out from your radiant heat flashing out. You gasped, completely drained, dropping to the stone floor. 

Your chest locked up entirely. Your heart gave one violent, agonizing flutter, and then seemed to stop entirely, trapped in your ribcage with the lowest hum. 

You could hear bodies falling down and crashing against stone, dirt and metal all the same, but very faintly. Through blurred vision, you saw the remaining soldiers trying to retreat in terror through the dust, except that Jongho didn't let them. 

Their bodies crashed against the ground and the two-ton tank they used to ambush you that Jongho lifted with ease, burying what remained of their bodies under it. After a moment, across the destroyed area where you felt safe mere hours before today, you saw Jongho staggering towards you through the settling dust. His eyes slowly go back to the usual whites, his veins still shimmering with iridescent glow, but much subtle. Body smoking, fighting against his own weakened heart to take one more step towards where you lay. 

It was totally silent again. 

“Hey…” 

He spoke sweetly, his soft tone just like the one from last night, while he had you in his arms after having broken you apart. His shape covered you from the sun. His body returned to its regular temperature, but his pulse plunged erratically. A burning fever flooded his blood, making his breath come in ragged, shallow gasps.

He fell to his knees beside you, He trembled, not from his power having drained all his energy, but for the absolute horror of looking down at your frail, motionless body.

“Hey,” he whispered, voice barely a breath. His blood stained fingers cupping your jaw. “Open your eyes, don't do this to me.”

Your chest was barely moving. The strain had left your pulse hanging by a thread. Slowly, agonizingly, you opened your eyes. The shadow Jongho´s body was providing you was one more comfort he gave you just because he was very good at taking care of you. You tried to smile but were sure your face remained motionless.

“Jongho…” you whispered, voice paper thin. 

He gasped. The spark over his dark eyes came back. “Don´t talk. Don´t force yourself.” He pleaded, hands shaking against your cheek. “I´m right here, you´ll be okay.” 

Finally, a faint smile touched your cracked lips. You weakly reached up, fingers barely brushing the torn fabric over his chest. “I couldn´t let them take me, not after I finally got you to say you loved me.” 

Jongho's breath hitched. He felt suffocated for an entirely different reason now. His eyes turned teareyed and he smiled through pursed lips, pressing his forehead against yours. “You´re an idiot,” He then looked at you. “You don´t get to tease me right now, you have to stay awake and tell me again how much you love me later.”

Then, a crackle cut through the static on his arm-mounted radio. A localized frequency pinged. A message from the rebellion´s front. 

“—Sector 1 is now securely empty. We had moved back to our main fort. If we need you there, you'll know which one. Anyone within reach, go there asap.” 

Jongho took a deep breath. He drew strength from the warmth of your skin, pushing through the tremor in his muscles and forcing his body back to its feet. He gently lifted you, gently hauling your limp frame onto his back. He wrapped your arms securely over his shoulders, gripping your legs against his waist. 

“Hold on, don´t let go.”

You only hummed softly in response. 

The sandstorm was still raging, but Jongho didn't falter. He kept going forward, knowing the way by memory rather than checking out the radar. He felt the soft, warmth of your breath against his neck, a constant reminder that he had to remain strong, for he was carrying not only his companion, or a member of the rebel group, but the person who held his heart, and that for better or worse, was going to remind him that living out this war was worth, to witness the life you were to share when this was all over.