Lines We Cross ||Front Man x Reader||

I woke up with my head spinning, my thoughts scrambled like I'd been hit by a fucking train. The sharp, lingering smell of chloroform still clung to my senses, making my stomach turn.

The last thing I remembered was being dragged away by those goddamn guards. The fucking bastards had forced that rag over my face, and I'd fought as hard as I could, but it wasn't enough.

Then it hit me. Jung-bae. He was dead.

My chest tightened at the memory, his blood spilling out as he fell lifeless to the ground. Gi-hun's screams echoed in my head. Shit. What happened to him? Was he alive? And where the fuck was I?

I forced myself to look around, my vision finally starting to focus. The room was sleek and modern, with dark walls that felt suffocating. Across from me was a massive armchair sitting in front of an even bigger screen, some kind of setup that screamed evil boss . The whole place was unsettling.

And then there was me. Tied up in the corner like a fucking hostage, ropes digging into my wrists and ankles, holding me in place on the chair. This was some Saw-level bullshit.

I needed to get the hell out of here.

I scanned the room again, my eyes darting over every detail. That's when I saw it, a bottle of cognac sitting on a coffee table by the armchair. It looked expensive as hell, but I didn't give a shit about that. What mattered was the thick glass. If I could smash it, I'd have a sharp enough shard to cut these ropes.

I started scooching the chair across the floor, gritting my teeth at how awkward it was to move without falling over. The sound of the legs scraping the ground was loud as hell, but eventually, I made it.

I twisted my wrist as much as I could, reaching for the bottle. With one big swing, I smashed it against the edge of the table, the head of the bottle shattering into jagged pieces. A sharp shard of glass stood out at the edge, and I wasted no time grabbing it.

Working quickly, I started sawing at the ropes around my wrists, the glass biting into the thick material. "Come on," I muttered under my breath, my frustration growing with every second. Finally, the rope snapped, and I moved onto the ones around my ankles, cutting through those just as quickly.

The moment I was free, I stood up, shaking out my stiff arms and legs. But there was no time to waste. I heard footsteps.

Shit.

The sound of boots echoed down the hall, getting closer. My heart started racing, and I clutched the broken bottle in my hand. I wasn't about to sit here and wait to get caught.

I ran toward the nearest hallway, moving as quickly and quietly as I could, slipping around a corner near the door. I pressed myself flat against the wall, holding my breath. The shard of glass was still in my hand, clutched so tightly I could feel its sharp edges digging into my palm.

The footsteps grew louder, the steady rhythm sending adrenaline rushing through my veins. Whoever it was, they were close. Too fucking close.

I gritted my teeth, tightening my grip on the glass. Whoever was about to come through that door was going to regret it.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and someone stepped through, their footsteps deliberate, almost mocking. Without thinking, I swung the broken shard of glass with everything I had, aiming right at the bastard's neck.

He dodged it easily, his reflexes quick as hell, and before I could try again, he grabbed my wrist in an iron grip. My fingers strained to hold onto the shard, but he twisted my arm, forcing me to drop it to the floor.

"Fuck you!" I spat, my rage surging as I stomped down hard on his foot. He grunted, good, that shit had to hurt, and I used the split second of his distraction to turn on him, my free hand clawing at him like an animal.