Page 23 of Fallen Starboy

Chapter

Nineteen

ARISTA

It’d been a week since the gunman had held me up in the damn stairwell of the parking garage, and I couldn’t bring myself to go back in there yet. I wasn’t even sure who this person I’d become was. It wasn’t the first time I’d been threatened before.

But this time, it was personal. And it hit a lot closer to home.

Jun’s new assistant was holding strong in his position, surprisingly, and through no small miracle, the two of them were getting along pretty well. I’d filled all the other positions needing filled, and felt good about cutting the cords.

Or at least, I had, until I had to sit down today and actually sign off on the last contract for his new team.

Jun had been conveniently absent for this meeting, off shooting another music video segment for his debut release.

Or maybe he was meeting with his stage organizer.

Or the concert team. He was so busy these days, it was hard to keep track of what the fuck he was doing at any given time.

And now that I wasn’t the person making his schedule, I didn’t know where every second of his day was allotted to.

Not that I cared.

I didn’t.

This had always been the plan. I was going to cut this cord between us and go back to my old life, my new job, the status quo before he walked back into my life.

I was on autopilot the whole way home, fingers drumming absently on my thighs as I stared out the window and contemplated how to tell Jun I was leaving. That I was moving back into my townhouse and out of his life again.

He never wanted me there, anyhow. Not now.

The driver glanced up at the rearview mirror and watched me as we rolled to a stop at the light, his eyes sharp, alert. I could appreciate someone who was on top of things, especially after the incident last week.

“How was your day, ma’am?” he asked calmly, weaving in and out of the lanes with practiced ease.

“Uneventful,” I lied, hoping he wouldn’t press.

“Better than chaotic.”

Yes, I supposed it was. I’d had enough excitement and chaos to last me a lifetime.

I didn’t need anything more than a nice soak in the bubble bath and a good night’s sleep.

And then maybe a well-crafted speech on why I was done being Jun’s live-in assistant, that I’d deliver as I walked out the door.

I could have a good cry about it once I was in the safety of my own home.

He could never know how I really felt. I couldn’t afford to put them in danger again, though I was afraid it was too late for that. Still, there was no point in going back on everything I’d done until now. He’d never believe me, anyway.

After all, I’d done a really good job at lying to him. At making him believe the worst in me.

My sigh was laden with seven years of regret as it fogged up the window.

When we pulled into the driveway, I wasn’t surprised to see Yejin’s tutor’s car in the drive. Pujin was with Jun at the studio, but he’d left three men on guard at the house in his stead, all trustworthy blokes who did a bang-up job of keeping the whole place safe and calm.

But there was no guard at the gate when we rolled in. Usually, someone would swing it open for us, and then close it behind us.

Strange, but maybe there was an explanation. I mean, someone had to use the bathroom every now and then, right? Maybe he stepped away for a second.

“Wait here, Miss Simmons,” the driver said as he put the car in park, his eyes scanning the front of the house as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a pistol I wasn’t aware he was carrying.

Suddenly, I was on high alert. He wouldn’t pull that unless he was afraid something was seriously wrong.

And then it hit me.

Yejin’s not supposed to be having her lessons with Graham right now. They should have ended an hour ago. Graham never stuck around this late without letting one of us know.

For his car to still be in the drive, something must’ve gone very, very wrong.

My mind went blank, and I put my hand on the door handle with no hesitation, following the new driver into the fray as he cleared the front door.

He paid me a second’s glance, and then swore when he realized I wasn’t good at listening. “Miss, you were supposed to stay with the car—oof.”

From around the corner, a hand reached out and disarmed him with ease, knocking him out with a well-placed pistol whip to the side of the temple. He crumpled like a cheap dollar, leaving me all alone.

Shit.

I heard a commotion from the theater room and sprinted down the hall, praying that everyone was alright. Suddenly very aware I could be walking into some serious shit, I pried the door open just a tad, and found?—

“Oh, hi there, Miss Simmons! Yejin and I extended our study session today to test out her comprehension and watch an educational video. Will you be joining us?”

As I opened my mouth to accept the invitation, I felt the familiar, cool sensation of a gun barrel digging into the side of my ribcage, just out of sight of the room’s participants.

“Tell them you’ve got things to do,” a rough voice ground out in a near whisper. “Or I’ll shoot you first, and them second.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, adrenaline racing through my veins. “Sorry, guys,” I apologized, trying desperately to keep my voice even for their safety. “I have some things to take care of. You go on ahead without me.”

“Sure thing, Miss Simmons,” Grant said cheerfully as I closed the door, his attention already turned back to Yejin and the screen.

The door clicked shut, sealing my fate, and hopefully saving their lives in the process.

“Good,” the man said. “Now, you’re going to turn around slowly and walk over to the couch.”

I didn’t argue. I did exactly as I was told, fearing the worst. The raw emotions that threatened to choke me in that parking garage’s stairwell crawled back up my throat and suffocated me once more.

Fighting them back was a struggle, but if I didn’t get control of them, it could mean my death, and that of the ones that meant the most to me. Innocents.

Yejin. Jun.

Behind me stood a man I’d seen once before, at the wheel of a car that’d tried to run me off the road when I was eight months pregnant with Yejin. A man who tried to kill me on more than one occasion.

“So glad you showed up when you did, Miss Simmons. I’ve been expecting you. And I’d have hated things to get messy.”

The man who’d put a gun to my head in a stairwell a week ago and threatened me.

You should’ve just gotten rid of the kid when we told you to.

The man who’d made threatening calls to me, warning me this would happen.

Ding. Fourth floor.

A man who now held a gun to the side of my head, with my daughter in the next room.

“Let them go,” I said calmly, though I was anything but. “They’re not who you want.” My hands clenched the cloth fabric of the couch at my side, hoping he’d shift so I could get to my phone and call the panic line, or 911.”

“You’re very smart, Miss Simmons,” he droned on, sliding around to my left. “But so are we.”

His gun moved around to the left side of my head, and I flinched to cover the subtle shift of my right arm as I slipped it into my pocket and held down the button to emergency dial.

I just hoped speed dial worked like it used to.

“What do you want from me?” I asked slowly, hating that I had no way to know if help was even on the way or not. The urge to get up and wrestle with him for the gun was building with every second that passed by, but doing something stupid like that would only make things worse.

“You could have solved this whole problem seven years ago, you know. But the foolish girl you were back then thought she could beat a powerful record label.” His gun slipped down the side of my cheek, cold and unwelcome and frightening.

“You couldn’t have just died when we tried to kill you, either.

No, not you. You were stubborn.” The barrel found the underside of my chin and tipped my head back, making me look my assailant in the eyes.

“You survived, you skipped town, and then you left that kid with the one person who would guarantee we wouldn’t touch her.

” His hands fisted in my hair, holding my head back as he traced the line of my throat with his gun.

“We had to take him as damaged goods or lose out on him entirely.”

“Having a kid doesn’t make him damaged goods,” I argued, needing to buy time.

“Why did you come to Mr. Kim’s house if you were after me?

” I hoped the security team was on the other end of the line.

That they could hear the clues I was dropping.

They’d track my cellphone eventually, but saving them time might be the difference between living and dying.

And I wanted so very badly to live right now. At least until I could see the interior of my own townhouse one more time.

“Having a kid means he’s a liability. An uncertainty. But we’re willing to deal with that.”

I watched his eyes flick to the theater room, where Yejin and Grant were holed up, unsuspecting, unaware. How long before Yejin decided she needed a drink, or Grant’s lesson was over? How much time did I have before this became a situation involving them as well?

“So you’re here to kidnap her and force his hand,” I said suddenly, realizing the true intent behind their bullshit.

“Well, we’re also here to tie up loose ends, too. You see, being smart isn’t always a good thing, Miss Simmons. And since you know what we’re capable of, and now what we’re planning, I think you understand why we can’t let you live.”

Can’t let me live? “I don’t plan on dying any time soon.”

“You don’t get a choice in the matter,” he growled, yanking me to my feet.

How much could I struggle against him without alerting Yejin and Grant in the other room?

He tugged on my arm, and I grabbed him with a snarl, digging my nails into the soft skin of his bicep. He didn’t cry out, but the pain on his face gave me a little joy that buoyed me up even as his gun barrel dug into my side again.