Ji-an
The moment the last man hit the ground, relief washed over me like a crashing wave. But none of us moved.
We were too stunned.
Too rattled by the reality of what had just happened.
Logan stood in the aftermath, pulse steady, breath even, as if he hadn't just singlehandedly dismantled the men who had come for us.
But then—
Si-woo.
He was still down.
I turned just as Logan moved toward him, dropping to one knee beside him.
Si-woo's face was pale, his breathing slow but controlled. His hand pressed against his side, fingers slick with blood. His shirt was ruined, soaked in red.
Logan didn't hesitate. He yanked a strip of cloth from his vest and pressed it firmly against the wound.
Si-woo inhaled sharply, but his expression remained neutral, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow.
"You're bleeding," Logan said flatly.
Si-woo let out a slow, sharp breath. "No shit."
Logan exhaled through his nose, his movements quick but efficient as he tied off the makeshift bandage. His hands were steady, practiced.
"How bad?" Logan asked.
Si-woo clenched his jaw. "Bad enough."
"You going to make it?"
Si-woo smirked, despite the pain. "Would hate to leave you alone with them." He nodded toward me, Min-ji, and Hye-won.
Logan snorted. "That'd be real tragic."
Despite the tension, something about the way they spoke—so calm, so measured—kept me grounded. Logan talked in his radio but I didn't hear him. He checked the other guards but I couldn't move.
The situation wasn't over, but at least for now, we were alive.
For now, we were safe.
Then Logan was in front of us.
I barely had time to register it before Min-ji moved.
She launched herself at Logan first, arms wrapping around his waist, her whole body shaking as she sobbed into his chest.
Hye-won followed a second later, grabbing onto his arm, fingers clenching like she was afraid to let go.
I stood frozen, watching as my best friends—two of the strongest women I knew—clung to Logan like he was the only solid thing in the world.
Honestly, for that moment, he was.
Because we had just been attacked.
We had been seconds away from something terrible.
And if Logan hadn't gotten there in time—
I swallowed hard.
He didn't move at first, his hands hovering awkwardly, as if he didn't know what to do. Then he sighed and wrapped his arms around them both, holding them steady.
His voice was low. Steady. Unshakable.
"You're okay," he murmured. "You're safe. I won't let anyone hurt you."
I should have said something.
Should have moved.
Instead, I just watched.
Watched as he protected us, even now.
Watched as he absorbed every ounce of fear, every tremble, without a single crack in his composure.
He wasn't panicked.
He wasn't shaken.
He had just destroyed five men, and now he was standing there, holding my best friends, making sure they felt safe.
Finally, his gaze flicked to me.
"Ji-an."
I exhaled.
"I'm fine," I said quickly, before he could ask.
His eyes lingered on me, sharp and assessing, as if he didn't quite believe me. But before he could press, his radio crackled.
"Carter, the police are on their way. ETA five minutes."
Logan sighed, gently detangling himself from Min-ji and Hye-won, who refused to let go at first. He touched his radio.
"Good," he said. "We need to wrap this up before it turns into a shitstorm."
And that was exactly what it was about to become.
Because no matter what had just happened—no matter how real the danger had been—this was going to blow up.
There would be questions.
Headlines.
Speculation.
And the Brotherhood lunatics?
This wasn't the last we'd hear of them.
I knew it.
Logan knew it.
And judging by the way he clenched his jaw, he was already preparing for the worst.
By the time we got back to the dressing room, the atmosphere had shifted.
Logan guided Min-ji and Hye-won to the couch, where they nearly collapsed from exhaustion, their adrenaline crash hitting hard.
Jisoo fussed over them, a bottle of water in each hand.
Seung-hwan had arrived, pacing furiously as he took a call from Nova's legal team, his face dark with stress.
And Logan?
Logan was making tea.
I blinked, thrown by the contrast. A man who had just committed serious violence on five people was now standing at the minibar, casually steeping tea like we were about to have a nice, peaceful evening.
"You drink this?" he asked, glancing at me.
I frowned. "Yeah?"
"Good."
He set the steaming cups in front of us, then grabbed a chair and turned it around, straddling it as he faced us.
The room was silent except for the sound of soft, careful sips.
Then Logan spoke.
"Talk to me," he said. "Tell me everything you know."
I looked at him, confused. "About what?"
He tilted his head slightly, unimpressed. "Don't play dumb. About them. The Brotherhood."
I exhaled slowly.
"We've dealt with stalkers before," I admitted. "Crazed fans. But this?" I shook my head. "This is new."
Logan watched me carefully, waiting.
I hesitated, then admitted, "There have been messages. Strange websites with Kickstarters for *seed money.* They've been writing manifestos on blogs and fan accounts. Saying weird things, but we've always ignored them."
His jaw tightened. "Like what?"
I glanced at Min-ji and Hye-won. They were quiet, letting me speak.
"Mostly about purity," I said finally. "Like…how I'm supposed to be some 'symbol' or some shit. How I belong to them."
Logan exhaled, slow and sharp.
"That's why they were saying that outside," I realized. "The whole 'Virgin Priestess' thing."
Min-ji shuddered. "That's so messed up."
"Yeah," Logan muttered. "It is."
For a second, the room fell silent again.
Then he stood.
"We need to get you out of here," he said.
I blinked. "What?"
He grabbed his radio. "Mark, I want the cars pulled around back. Now."
"What about the police? They need your statement."
"Tell Sheriff Tate that he can call my cell. The girls need to get out of here. There might be more of these asshats around."
"Copy, Captain."
I frowned. "Logan—"
"This venue isn't safe anymore," he interrupted. "I don't care what the police say. You're leaving. Now."
His voice left no room for argument.
And for the first time in my life?
I didn't want to argue.
Logan
I had one job.
Get them out.
No press. No attention. No more opportunities for psychos with knives.
The rest of my team stayed behind to handle the police, the venue, and the inevitable fallout. I took them—the ones that mattered—put them in unmarked cars, and got them the hell out of there.
No flashy black SUVs with presidential-level security that would tip off every stalker and tabloid in the city. Just normal cars, part of a normal convoy, heading back to Moses Lake like nothing had happened.
Because as far as I was concerned?
Tonight was over.
The only thing that mattered now was getting them back to the hotel, locking it down, and making sure nothing else touched them.
Ji-an hadn't fallen asleep.
She sat quietly beside me, arms wrapped around her knees, staring out the window.
Then, softly—so softly I almost missed it—
"Thank you."
I didn't answer right away.
Didn't trust myself to.
So I did what I always did.
I kept driving.
Kept my eyes on the road.
Kept moving forward.
Because if I let myself think about what had just happened?
I wasn't