Stolen (Kim Namjoon/RM X Reader)

Savior

Hour thirty came and went, and then hour thirty one, and thirty two, and the more time that passed, the more I felt sure that I was going to die. Joon hadn't understood my hidden message to him, he wouldn't find me in time, and I'd be killed. Or, a more likely scenario, he would give them their money, and they'd still kill me anyway, just for the fun of it.

Hour thirty five disappeared, and I hadn't heard or seen the man or his assistant since the phone call at twenty four hours. My cheek, which had settled down into a dull ache, was starting to bruise, I could feel the stiff soreness slowly creeping across the skin of my face and starting to encircle my left eye, which was beginning to swell, making it hard to see.

I had gotten past even feeling the thirst or dryness of my mouth, and I spent the ticking hours of the clock in a state of suspension, half in and out of consciousness, my thoughts wandering between rational and delusional.

I had almost lost keeping track of time, sitting there, alone, unmoving, in the dark. I had become numb. Numb to the fear, the hope, the despair. Numb to the stinging of my face, the biting feel of the ropes around my wrist and ankles, the need for water, the feel of the gag digging incessantly into the corners of my mouth.

I was so numb, that by hour forty eight, the hour of reckoning, I didn't even look up in response to the door banging inward, the sound of loud, angry words echoing in the room, harsh footsteps headed in my direction, feet slapping against the concrete.

"Get her up." I vaguely recognized the leader's voice, his yelled words laced with unbridled fury, before the bonds surrounding my wrists and ankles were cut, and I was being heaved upward from my chair.

Stumbling forward on feet that I couldn't feel and that wouldn't hold my weight, I went down hard on my knees on the concrete, steadying myself with my equally unusable hands on the floor at the base of the TV cart. Rough, groping hands went under my arms and pulled me upright, before grabbing my wrists with dirty fingers, bringing them once again around behind my back, pinching them in place in a steely hold as the leader, his face once again calm, came around to stand in front of me. Crouching down, he pushed my sweaty hair out of my face and locked my gaze with his, as he said from between slightly clenched teeth, the only hint at the rage boiling just below the surface, "Time's up. And your boyfriend still hasn't materialized. I think it's time we give him a little incentive, eh?" He pulled my phone from his pocket, and I saw him hit the facetime button for Joon as he hissed out, "Time for your close up, my dear."

The man behind me, holding my wrists still pinched between his fingers, kneed me in the back, forcing me to look up as the screen came to life before me, Joon's face appearing, his dark eyes carefully masked, his features unreadable. When he caught sight of me on the screen, his mask almost cracked, I could see pain flicker across his eyes, his lips trembled just for the briefest of moments. I knew what I looked like-dead eyed, one side of my face a massive purple bruise, my eye swollen shut, my hair matted and stuck to my head with fever sweat, my lips chapped and bleeding.

The leader, careful not to show his face on screen, spoke up, addressing Joon as he said loudly, "Your time is up. For every minute that goes by past forty eight hours, the girl's life shortens. Tick tock, Mr. Kim. She only has so many hours to spare."
Joon's mouth opened, as if he was going to say something, but before he could, the man clicked the phone off, the screen going dark once again as he slipped the mobile back into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

As if that was the cue, the lackey jerked me to my feet, and as I once against stumbled over my useless legs, shoved me back into the chair, going around back to secure my hands once again. Moving onto my ankles, he tightened the ropes, causing me to wince as they once again tore into my already raw and bruised flesh.