Ghost | ORV

In the blink of an eye, the handsome bastard had Dokja by the throat, lifting him effortlessly off the ground like he weighed nothing, holding him over the edge of the broken bridge.

What the actual fuck?! [Name] barely saw him move. One second, he was standing there in front of the two, all intense and brooding, and the next, Dokja was dangling from his grip, like a ragdoll. The sight sent a jolt of panic through their body. Their heart raced, and without thinking, they took a step forward, ready to charge in and do something—anything—to stop this.

But the man shot them a look. A cold, deadly glare that froze them in place. It wasn't just a look; it was a threat wrapped in ice. A look that made it clear: move, and you'll regret it.

Their body froze. They hated it. Hated that this guy, this stranger, had the power to stop them so easily with just one look. It felt like their whole body was locked in place, their hands clenched into fists at their sides. But still, their eyes didn't leave Dokja, watching him, even as the man's grip tightened.

Dokja was calm. Too calm. For someone who was hanging over certain death, his face was disturbingly relaxed. He didn't even seem to be struggling, just looking at [Name], his eyes steady.

"Don't. I'll be fine." It wasn't spoken, but the message was loud and clear in his gaze. He didn't want them to do anything, didn't want them to risk it.

[Name] sucked in a sharp breath, their chest tight with anger and helplessness. Their fists clenched harder, nails digging into their palms. Fine. They wouldn't move. But that didn't mean they were okay with it. Hot guy or not, this bastard better not kill Dokja or they will make sure he regretted it.

They could feel the heat of their frustration burning inside them. They wouldn't let this slide. Not while Dokja was right there, teetering on the edge, trusting them to keep their hands to themselves. It didn't matter what the guy said. They couldn't just stand here and watch.

Meanwhile, the man's sharp gaze remained locked on Dokja, but something flickered in his eyes when he looked at [Name]. It was quick, disappearing before they could even catch a glimpse of it, but it left an uneasy feeling settling in their chest.

Then, the man spoke.

"Name."

It wasn't a question. It was a demand, his voice sharp, slicing through the air.

Dokja, who was clearly being choked out, had the nerve to blink slowly at him. "What?"

[Name] wanted to facepalm so hard. Oh god, don't provoke him while he's literally deciding if you're going to live or die!

The man's grip tightened, his patience slipping away. "What is your name?"

"Kim Dokja," Dokja finally answered, exhaling like being strangled was just a minor inconvenience in his day. Don't tell me he has breath play kink, [Name] thought, pinching their nose. Not the worst kink out there, but they didn't know if they could do that with him once they get him in the sheets. Although, this is something they really shouldn't be thinking about right now.

The man's brows furrowed like the name was foreign to him, his gaze lingering for a moment too long. "...A strange name."

"I've heard that a lot."

No kidding. [Name] rolled their eyes internally. They knew it was a weird name, one that could be interpreted in different ways. "Reader" or "Only Son." But right now, none of that mattered.

What mattered was that if this guy didn't let go of Dokja soon, [Name] was going to do something reckless. They were seconds away from charging forward and tackling the guy off of him.