"Y/N.." he whispers. "You.. killed a man. In cold blood. For me."
My jaw tightens.
He continues. "Just shot him. Right between the eyes without even blinking. I know that you and I are close, but you have no idea what I've done. I deserved that bul...
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——————— I wake up to the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. I go my window and see and the unfamiliar silver car. Then a familiar red haired man steps out. He kind of helped me the other day, but I don't know what he's really like.
His head lifts up and his eyes meet mine through the window. I just keep a straight face, lifting my chin slightly.
*******
"Having her there would make it worse." Namjoon says. "The boys would just pity her." He says, dissatisfied with Jimin, who is arguing on my behalf to allow me into the meeting. They don't know I'm there. I'm hiding around the corner on the wall.
"She deserves to know what the plans are. It does concern her life." Jimin says.
"I think I liked you better when you hated her." Namjoon grumbles.
"I never hated her." Jimin says. "I was just lashing out at her. But I know now that she's important. To us. To our jobs, boss. Hell, she's important to our futures whether you like her or not. She needs to know the plan."
Namjoon cracks his knuckles and lets out a deep sigh.
"She can come, but she doesn't speak." He finally says and I look up, silently thanking Jimin. "Go get her before I change my mind. We begin in 10 minutes."
I quickly move away from the wall and leave to my room, shutting the door behind me. I sit at my desk and wait for the knock to sound at the door. One minute later, it does.
"Y/n?" Jimin says on the other side of the door. "It's me, can I come in?"
"Go ahead." I say, opening a magazine. The door opens and he pokes his head inside.
"I talked to Namjoon." He says, stepping inside.
"Yeah?" I say, looking uninterested.
"You're allowed to come, but you can't talk. You're there to know the plan, but he will kick you out if you speak." Jimin explains and I nod.
"Okay, Thank you.. when does it start?"
"Less than ten minutes."
"Oh." I say. "Let's go upstairs then."
******
This room again. The neat, comfortable office to the eye. But one that reveals every dark part of your life. My interrogation room, that's what it is. It's hard to forget what kind of wounds they reopened last time they were here. I doubt that my family won't cross my mind as we discuss. My father or brother. I doubt that they won't ask me questions once again.
