Archive of Our Own

The lights in operations were dimmed to night mode, a soft blue glow bleeding across the consoles, as if the room itself were half-asleep. It was supposed to be calming. It never worked on Felix. 

He sat curled in his chair, knees drawn up slightly, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands as his fingers flew across the keyboard. The screen reflected faintly in his eyes, lines of code, live feeds, and heart rate monitors ticking steadily along the bottom of the display. 

One earbud fed him the mission audio. The other laid forgotten on the desk, wire coiled loosely like he’d dropped it without realizing.

Jisung had fallen asleep hours ago. 

Felix could still picture it perfectly, the way Jisung’s head had slowly dipped forward, chin brushing his chest, fingers stuttering over the keys until the code began to loop. Nothing catastrophic, just his exhaustion finally winning over. Felix had sighed softly and nudged Jisung’s shoulder. 

“Hey. Go sleep,” he’d murmured. “You’re gonna break something important.” 

Jisung had blinked at him, unfocused, a sheepish smile tugging at his mouth. “You’d just fix it for me.”

Felix hadn’t denied it. He never did.

Now, the chair beside him sat empty. The cot in the corner was untouched. Jisung must have gone back to their bunks. Felix imagined him sprawled across the mattress, blanket kicked off, and one arm flung out like he was reaching for someone who wasn’t there.

Felix swallowed and turned back to the screens.

Hyunjin’s body cam flickered softly in the center monitor as he slipped through a narrow hallway, movements fluid and precise. Chan’s voice came through the comms low and steady, threaded with dangerous focus.

“Hold position,” Chan said. “Lee Know, left side—now.”

Felix adjusted the audio levels without looking, rerouted a camera feed, and dropped a firewall in exactly the right place. His body knew this work better than it knew rest.

A sharp sound cut through the feed, not loud, but wrong.

A breath knocked out of someone’s lungs. The scrape of fabric. The unmistakable, hollow thud of a body hitting concrete.

Chan sucked in a breath, sharp and uncontrolled, pain slicing through his voice before he could stop it.

Felix slammed the mute toggle down.

His chest seized like he’d taken the hit himself.

His hands shook as he pressed them flat against the desk, fingers splayed, and nails digging into the smooth surface like he needed something solid to keep him upright. His heart pounded too hard and fast, echoing in his ears where Chan’s voice had just been.

He hated this part.

He hated listening to the sounds of pain he couldn’t stop. He hated knowing exactly what each noise was, how bad it was, how it would feel, how long it would linger afterward. He hated that the people he loved most in the world trusted him to hear it.

It hurt him almost as much as it hurt them. Sometimes more. But he never told them that.

If he did, they’d try to hide it from him, try to protect him from their pain. They’d think he couldn’t handle it. That he was fragile or weak.

So, Felix stayed quiet. He swallowed the ache down and learned how to breathe through it.

After a few seconds, just enough for the worst of the fighting sounds to fade, he turned the audio back on.

“I’m good,” Chan was saying now, voice steadier, his practice calm back in place. “Continue.”

Felix closed his eyes, just for a second, and exhaled softly. Then, he went back to work, checking over his coding.

But that’s when he saw it.

At first, it was almost nothing, just a brief flicker in the access logs, a timestamp out of place by a fraction of a second. The kind of discrepancy most systems would smooth over automatically, and the kind Felix himself had written code to ignore. He frowned, leaning closer to the screen, isolating the thread and peeling it apart line by line.

His stomach tightened.

There it was again. An internal access ping routed through his user profile, clean and authenticated, appearing at a time when his hands hadn’t been on the keys. A patrol reroute that aligned too perfectly with their planned path. A camera blind spot was adjusted after the mission parameters were finalized, saved under his name.

Felix’s fingers slowed on the keyboard.

“No,” he whispered.

He pulled up deeper layers, tunneling into encrypted logs he technically shouldn’t have been able to see without higher authorization. But the system didn’t question him; it recognized him, and every door opened because it thought he belonged there.

The pattern revealed itself with sickening clarity. These weren’t breaches, forced entry, or corrupted code.

Using his credentials, his saved workflows, the data he’d compiled late at night, the optimizations he’d built to keep his team safe, all of it was repurposed, mirrored, and quietly siphoned through pathways that bore his digital signature.

Felix’s heart began to race, dread coiling tight in his chest as his eyes darted across the screens, connecting the pieces in silence. If he said it out loud, it would become real.

Someone was logging in as him.

“Comms,” Changbin’s voice cut in suddenly, breath a little heavier now. “Yongbok? J.One? One of you still listening in?”

Felix swallowed hard, forcing his voice to smooth out.

“I am,” he replied. “J.One’s asleep.”

There was a brief pause.

“Of course you aren’t,” Minho said dryly. “It’s past two.”

Felix let out a quiet huff. “Says the man who never sleeps on missions.”

Hyunjin chimed in a moment later, softer. “You okay, angel?”

Felix’s fingers hovered over the keys.

“I’m fine,” he said automatically. “You guys?”

A messy chorus of responses followed that included Changbin complaining about cramped corridors, Jeongin muttering about angles, and Minho confirming positions. Chan checked vitals, calm and controlled again.

Felix let himself smile faintly, just a little.

Then Chan spoke again, voice gentle but firm.

“Yongbok. Go to bed.”

Felix leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting to the scrolling data he absolutely was not ready to walk away from.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Okay.”

He hesitated, then added softly, “I love you. All of you. Be careful, please.”

The response was immediate and warm, voices overlapping through the static.

“Love you too.”
“Don’t stay up worrying.”
“Get some rest, sunshine.”

Felix muted the comms, but made no move to stand up.

Instead, he dragged the corrupted logs back into focus, pulse thudding painfully as he traced the leak backward quietly and carefully. This was something he needed to understand before he told anyone.

The door behind him creaked.

Felix startled hard, spinning in his chair as he closed out the programs.

Seungmin stood there, hair a mess, eyes barely open, and wearing one of Chan’s old sweatshirts that hung off his frame. He blinked at Felix slowly.

“Chan-hyung told me you should be going to sleep,” Seungmin said, voice flat with exhaustion.

Felix groaned, scrubbing his face. “You didn’t have to get up.”

Seungmin shuffled closer, peering at the screen without really seeing it. “You told hyung you were going to bed.”

“I am,” Felix muttered. “Just… in theory.”

Seungmin hummed, unimpressed. Then he reached out, took Felix’s wrist, and tugged.

“Hey—!” Felix laughed weakly as he was pulled to his feet. “Min, come on—”

“Nope,” Seungmin said, already turning toward the door. “You’re done.”

Felix followed, grumbling under his breath but letting himself be led down the hall. The base was quiet, lights dimmed low, with the only sounds being the distant humming of the systems throughout the base.

When they reached the room, Jisung was already sprawled across the bed, blankets twisted around him. Seungmin nudged Felix toward the open space and climbed in after him without hesitation.

The moment Felix laid down, Jisung shifted.

Even asleep, he found Felix instantly, arms sliding around his waist, pulling him close with a soft, unconscious sound in his throat. Felix’s breath caught as he melted into the warmth, chest pressing to Jisung’s, his heart still racing from everything he hadn’t said.

Seungmin settled behind them, one hand resting lightly between Felix’s shoulders, grounding and warm.

Felix stared up at the dark ceiling, mind still buzzing with danger and betrayal and the knowledge that his boys were out there, trusting him.

Jisung tightened his grip in his sleep, murmuring something unintelligible.

Felix closed his eyes.

Just a few hours, he told himself. Then he’d keep looking, he’d keep searching. Whoever was in the system trying to hurt his boys would be found and brought to justice before they could get any closer.

Felix would make sure of it.

-

Felix didn’t sleep.

He laid between Seungmin and Jisung with his eyes closed and his breathing carefully measured, his body still enough that anyone watching would have thought he was already gone. But his mind refused that quiet. It kept circling the same points over and over, like it was afraid that if it stopped moving, something terrible would catch up to him.

Timelines. Access windows. His own hands on the system, night after night.

When the base shifted from night-cycle to early morning, the subtle hum of systems changing registers filled the air, and Felix eased himself out of bed with practiced care.

Seungmin stirred faintly, fingers tightening in the fabric of Felix’s hoodie as if reaching for him even in sleep. The small, unconscious gesture was nearly enough to get Felix to go back into bed.

Felix froze, heart swelling painfully in his chest, before gently prying himself free and tucking the blanket back around Jisung’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words barely making noise at all.

His corner in their office greeted him with its familiar glow and quiet, the soft hum of servers and cooling fans wrapping around him like something almost comforting. This place had always felt safer than anywhere else. Predictable and obedient.

Felix slid into his chair, the console lighting beneath his touch as if it recognized him, as if it welcomed him back.

This time, he didn’t retrace his steps; instead, he followed the data forward.

Felix pulled mission logs and overlaid them with internal access records, stacking timelines until they blurred into a single, coherent thread. His fingers moved with practiced ease, but his breathing grew shallow as the picture sharpened in front of him.

Every compromised operation aligned with the same variables: his longest shifts, his quiet hours, and stretches of time when Jisung had already been sent to bed, and Felix had stayed behind alone, telling himself it was safer that way.

The system hadn’t been breached. It had been used.

They hadn’t forced entry or cracked encryption. They’d watched him work, waited while he optimized routes, cleaned pathways, and smoothed inefficiencies out of existence. They’d let him build the door and then walked through it behind him, invisible and patient.

Felix stared at the screen, his reflection faint in the glass, pale and hollow eyes with shadows bruising the skin beneath his eyes, mouth slightly open like he’d forgotten how to breathe. A hollow ache spread through his chest as the truth pressed in, heavy and suffocating.

“I did this,” he whispered, the words trembling as they left him.

Not because he was careless or reckless, but because he hadn’t noticed. In his focus on keeping his team, his lovers, safe, he had completely missed the secrets hiding beneath his codes.

His hands shook as he pulled up deeper access logs, tracing the route the intel had taken. It hadn’t been stolen outright, but mirrored, quietly duplicated, and redirected through channels Felix himself had built.

The realization made his stomach twist.

He followed the trail further, breath catching when the final node resolved on-screen.

The IP address blinked back at him, stark and undeniable.

It was internal. Not masked, or bounded through foreign relays or scrubbed through black-market servers. It hadn’t even bothered to hide.

Whoever was doing this was inside the building.

Felix stared at the address, disbelief draining the warmth from his limbs. This wasn’t an enemy slipping in through a crack. This was someone who belonged here, someone who passed the same security checks, walked the same halls, drank the same terrible coffee, and said good morning like they actually meant it.

Someone had sabotaged him from the inside. Someone had put his entire team in danger without hesitation.

Felix’s heart began to race, dread curling tighter and tighter around his ribs. His eyes flicked across the screen again, searching desperately for a name, a signature, anything, but every access point was buried beneath layers of legitimate authorization. Clean enough to vanish, familiar enough to be ignored, and designed to make the blame fall squarely on him.

A soft chime cut through the room.

Felix flinched, shoulders jumping as an encrypted transmission bloomed onto his screen, routed through channels that bypassed every safeguard he knew. His pulse spiked as he isolated it, cracking the encryption with shaking hands that refused to steady no matter how hard he tried.

The message revealed itself slowly, like it wanted him to savor it.

You were never meant to last here.

Felix’s breath stuttered, the words landing with a dull, aching weight.

You’re too soft. Too careful.

His fingers tightened on the edge of the desk, knuckles whitening as his pulse thudded loudly in his ears.

You don’t belong on a team like this.

The screen scrolled again without his input.

They protect you because they don’t see what you really are.

Felix swallowed hard, throat burning.

You slow them down. You hesitate. You care too much. Teams like yours don’t survive with dead weight.

Each line felt deliberate, aimed straight at the doubts he’d never voiced out loud. The ones he’d buried under competence and long hours and quiet smiles. His vision blurred, the room seeming to tilt as the words continued to populate the screen, crowding closer and leaving him nowhere to look but forward.

We’re fixing the problem.

Felix’s heart slammed violently against his ribs.

You will be removed.

You should have stopped digging. You should have known your place.

The cursors blinked at the bottom of the message, steady and patient, like it was waiting for him to understand.

The air felt too thin to breathe. This wasn’t a warning; it wasn’t even a threat meant to scare him into silence. It was a declaration.

They weren’t coming for his access. They weren’t coming for his systems.

They were coming for him.

Felix pressed his eyes shut, fighting the rising panic, until another thought broke through with sudden, desperate clarity.

Jisung.

If Felix stayed silent, if he tried to fix this alone like he always did, Jisung would be next. He would be used the same way and hurt because Felix hadn’t spoken up in time.

Felix was on his feet before he consciously decided to move.

He didn’t bother shutting down his station or grabbing anything to steady himself. He ran, footsteps echoing too loudly in the corridor as his heart thudded in his ears. His lungs burned with each breath, panic sharpening his movements as he pushed through the doors into operations.

Jisung looked up immediately.

“Felix?”

He was already standing, concern written plainly across his face as Felix staggered inside, words tangled uselessly in his throat. Felix tried to speak, tried to explain, but all that came out was a broken sound as his hands curled into the front of his hoodie, trembling too badly to hide.

Jisung crossed the room in seconds, warm hands closing around Felix’s wrists with steady pressure.

“Hey, hey,” Jsung murmured, voice soft but firm. “Slow down, look at me. You’re okay.”

Felix shook his head, breath coming too fast, tears burning behind his eyes.

“I think it’s me,” he said finally, the words cracking apart as soon as they were spoken. “I think I messed something up. I think someone’s been using—”

He was just starting to make sense, just starting to get the truth out, when the explosion tore through the room.

The blast hit like he ran into a wall, a wall of heat and sound that ripped the floor out from under him. Felix felt himself be lifted and thrown backward as pain detonated across his skull in a blinding flash of light. His last clear sensation was Jisung’s hands slipping from his wrist.

The last thing he heard was his name, screamed in terror.

Then everything went dark.

-

Seungmin was just putting on his gloves when the facility shuddered.

For a fraction of a second, his brain refused to process what his body already knew. The tremor rolled up through the floor and into his chest, a deep concussive force that rattled cabinets and sent instruments clattering against metal trays. The lights flickered violently overhead, alarms beginning to howl as the air filled with the sharp, acrid smell of burning circuitry.

Seungmin froze, his heart pounding in his chest so hard that it hurt.

“No,” he breathed, already ripping the gloves off his hands. “No, no—”

Jisung. Felix.

The thought hit like he had been smacked. Seungmin lunged for his comm, fingers slipping as he shoved it into his ear. He keyed in the channel so hard his knuckles ached.

“Jisung,” he said, voice sharp and controlled in a way only medics learned to fake. “Felix, respond. Now.”

Static answered him.

His chest tightened painfully. He switched frequencies, bypassed safeguards, and overrode restrictions he normally enforced with iron discipline.

“Felix,” he said again, fear creeping into the edges of his voice despite his best efforts. “Lix, answer me.”

Nothing.

Seungmin turned and ran.

The corridors blurred as he sprinted, following the echo of the explosion, alarms screaming overhead. His mind raced ahead of his body, cataloging injuries before he even knew what he’d find: blast trauma, shrapnel wounds, concussions, or burns. He shoved the possibilities aside one by one, because none of them accounted for the sick certainty curling in his gut.

The closer he got, the worse the air became. Smoke hung thick and bitter, biting at the back of his throat. The floor was littered with debris, shattered panels, twisted metal, and fragments of ceiling tile crunching under his boots.

Operations.

The reinforced doors had been blown outward, warped, and buckled like paper. Inside, the room was chaos, consoles destroyed and screens shattered with sparks hissing from exposed wiring. Smoke curled lazily through the space, illuminated by flickering emergency lights.

Seungmin stopped short, horror stealing the breath from his lungs.

“No,” he whispered, the word barely audible.

“Seungmin!”

The shout cut through the ringing in his ears. He turned sharply toward the sound and saw movement near the far side of the room. Hongjoong was crouched low, one hand pressed to the floor for balance, the other waving frantically. Beside him, Seonghwa was on his knees, bracing someone upright with careful movements.

“He’s breathing!” Hongjoong called, “Over here!”

Seungmin didn’t hesitate. He vaulted over debris and dropped to his knees beside them, his focus snapping instantly into place when he saw Jisung slumped against Seonghwa’s chest. Blood streaked down Jisung’s temple, dark against his skin, his lashes fluttering as he struggled toward consciousness.

“I’ve got him,” Seungmin said, voice steady now, almost eerily calm. He took over without a word, fingers gently but precise as they checked Jisung’s pulse, pupils, and the rise and fall of his chest. “Jisung. Hey. Stay with me, jagiya.”

Jisung groaned softly, brow knitting in confusion. His eyes cracked open, unfocused at first, then sharp panic flooded them as memory slammed back into place.

“Seung…?” he rasped. “What—what happened?”

“Explosion,” Seungmin said quietly. “You hit your head. Don’t try to sit up.”

Jisung sucked in a shaky breath, hands twitching weakly where they rested against Seungmin’s sleeves. “Felix,” he said, voice breaking immediately. “Where’s Felix?”

Seungmin’s stomach dropped so hard it felt like the floor vanished beneath him.

He forced himself not to react, not yet. He finished the assessment with ruthless efficiency, relief cutting sharply through the fear when he confirmed there were no immediate signs of spinal injury or internal bleeding. Jisung was hurt, but alive and stable.

Felix was still unaccounted for.

“I’m going to get you help,” Seungmin said firmly, even as his heart pounded. “You’re not moving. Seonghwa-hyung, keep him still.”

Seonghwa nodded immediately, tightening his grip on Jisung. “Go,” he said. “We’ve got him.”

Seungmin was already moving. He moved through the wreckage like a man possessed, calling Felix’s name until his voice went hoarse. He searched behind shattered consoles, under collapsed panels, searching for blood, for a body, for anything that would tell him where Felix was.

There was nothing. No sign of him at all. And that terrified Seungmin more than finding him hurt ever could have.

They got Jisung back to the medical center as quickly as possible, Seungmin working on autopilot as adrenaline carried him through stabilizing vitals and setting monitors. Only when Jisung was settled did Seungmin finally stop moving.

He turned slowly to face him.

“Tell me what happened,” Seungmin said, voice low and controlled.

Jisung swallowed hard, hands shaking as he spoke. He told him about Felix bursting into the room, frantic and panicked, trying to say something, something important. About the way Felix had looked, like he was carrying the weight of the world as he struggled to get his words out. About the explosion cutting him off mid-sentence.

Seungmin felt sick.

Before he could respond, the door opened again. Hongjoong stepped in first, face grim, followed by Yunho and San. Their expressions told Seungmin everything before they even spoke.

“We searched the entire control wing,” Hongjoong said quietly. “There’s no sign of Felix.”

San’s jaw tightened. “No body. No blood trail.”

Yunho exhaled shakily. “Which means whoever planted the bomb took him.”

The words settled over the room like ash.

Jisung stared at Seungmin, terror fully blooming in his eyes now.

Seungmin met his gaze, fear mirrored there, but beneath it, something harder was taking shape. The kind of clarity that only came when there was no room left for hesitation.

He straightened slowly.

“Call Chan,” Seungmin said.

-

Chan barely registered the ache in his shoulder anymore.

Adrenaline had long since burned it down to something distant and manageable, the kind of pain you catalog and move past because there were still doors to clear and hallways to secure. They were so close, he could feel it in the way the comms had gone quieter, in the rhythm of the mission settling toward completion.

“Last sweep,” he said into the mic, voice steady. “Then we’re out.”

He was already turning toward the next hallway when his earpiece crackled.

“CB.”

Seungmin’s voice cut through the noise like a blade.

Chan slowed instinctively, a tension settling low in his spine. Seungmin never sounded like that. “Go ahead,” he said, forcing calm into his reply.

“You all need to come back,” Seungmin said. There was no preamble or explanation, just raw urgency.

Chan frowned, glancing back at the others. Minho had already paused, eyes sharp, reading Chan’s expression. 

“We’re almost done,” Chan replied. “Give us five minutes.”

“No,” Seungmin said immediately, and now the fear was unmistakable. “You don’t have five minutes.”

Chan stopped walking, and the others came to a stop behind him as well. His heart began to pound harder, a warning bell he’d learned not to ignore.

“Mong,” he said, more firmly now, “tell me what’s going on.”

Before Seungmin could answer, Changbin’s voice cut in, breathless but grounded, trying to anchor the moment.

“Hey, slow down. What happened? You’re panicking.”

“We don’t have time to calm down,” Seungmin snapped, and the sharpness of it sent a chill straight through Chan’s chest.

Then Jisung’s voice came through the channel. It was quiet and shaking at the edges, stripped of its usual brightness, and it scared Chan more than Seungmin’s panic ever could.

“CB,” Jisung said. “Come back. Now. There isn’t time to argue about this.”

Chan’s mouth went dry.

Minho came to stand up next to him.

“Why,” he demanded. “Tell us why.”

Chan opened his mouth to echo the question, but Hyunjin suddenly stopped short beside him.

“There’s a message,” Hyunjin said slowly, eyes fixed on the tablet in his hands. His voice wavered just slightly. “From medbay.”

Chan turned fully then, something cold blooming in his chest as the rest of the team instinctively gathered around Hyunjin. The hallway felt too narrow, and the air felt too thick.

“Watch it,” Seungmin said softly over the line.

Hyunjin tapped the screen.

The footage loaded with a faint stutter, grainy security cam video filling the display. Chan recognized the room immediately.

Operations, where Felix and Jisung spent most of their time.

Jisung sat at the central console, shoulders hunched, and fingers moving fast over the keys. He looked tired but focused. Chan felt a flicker of irrational relief until Felix appeared on screen.

Felix rushed into the frame like he was being chased by something, or someone.

Even without sound, Chan could see it, the panic in Felix’s body, the way his hands shook as he grabbed for Jisung’s attention, mouth moving too fast, trying to say something that couldn’t wait. His chest tightened painfully.

Felix leaned in, desperation written into every line of his body, and then—

The screen exploded into white.

The blast swallowed everything in light and static, the image tearing apart as if the footage itself couldn’t withstand it. Chan sucked in a sharp breath he didn’t remember choosing to take, fingers curling into fists at his sides.

When the feed returned, the room was unrecognizable. Smoke poured through the space, debris scattered everywhere, and sparks were raining from shattered panels.

Jisung was there, lying on the floor unconscious.

Felix wasn’t.

Chan couldn’t feel his hands anymore.

“What is this?” Jeongin whispered, horror seeping into his voice.

“That was operations,” Hyunjin said faintly.

Jisung’s voice came back over the comms, sounding broken.

“Felix ran in to tell me something. I—I don’t know what he was trying to tell me. He was trying to get it out, but then the bomb went off. I woke up after.”

Chan’s heart slammed against his ribs, each beat louder than the last.

“We can’t find him,” Jisung continued, voice cracking. “There’s no blood. No body. We think whoever planted it took him.”

The words didn’t make sense.

Felix didn’t just disappear. Felix stayed. Felix worried. Felix listened and waited and loved too hard and—

Chan felt the world tilt. For one awful second, his mind replayed Felix’s voice from last night, soft and warm over the comms.

I love you. Stay safe.

Chan had told him to sleep.

He didn’t remember deciding to move. His body simply obeyed something deeper than thought, already turning, already running.

“Mission’s over,” he said, his voice coming out flat and distant, as if it belonged to someone else. “Abort. We’re pulling out.”

“Chan—” Changbin started.

“Now,” Chan snapped, breaking into a sprint. “Everyone move.”

They ran. Boots pounded against concrete as they tore back toward the vehicles, adrenaline surging, fury and terror twisting together in Chan’s chest until he could barely breathe around it.

Felix was gone, and Chan was going to tear the world apart to get him back.

-

Felix came back to consciousness like he was breaking through ice.

His eyes opened abruptly, breath dragging in sharp and uneven as light flooded his vision. For several long seconds, nothing made sense.

The ceiling above him was industrial with a single exposed strip of fluorescent light that buzzed faintly, casting everything in a cold and colorless glow. The air smelled metallic and stale, laced with the faint tang of electricity.

He blinked slowly, trying to orient himself.

This wasn’t anywhere he recognized. The walls were too bare, the space too empty, the environment so unfamiliar it made his head throb with fear.

His wrists tugged when he shifted, and Felix inhaled sharply.

He was restrained. His arms were secured to a chair that was bolted to the floor, his ankles bound to the chair as well. There was a strap tight against his chest, firm enough to keep him from moving more than a few inches.

His pulse began to race.

Where am I?

The question echoed uselessly in his mind, then the memory crashed into him.

Operations. Jisung’s hands on his wrists. His own voice trying to explain, to confess, to warn—

The explosion. The blinding flash, the heat. The force that ripped the air from his lungs and threw him backward. The sound of JIsung screaming his name.

Felix’s breathing turned shallow and uneven.

Jisung.

Was he hurt? Was he alive? Had the blast—

Panic surged violently through him, straining against the restraints as his body tried to move despite the dull heaviness in his limbs. He twisted slightly, testing the straps again, heart hammering.

Please be okay, Jisung. Please be okay.

His thoughts spiraled faster now, images replaying in broken fragments. He needed to know. He needed—

The sound of a door unlocking cut cleanly through his panic.

Three figures stepped into the room.

Felix’s breath caught in his throat.

He knew them.

Youmin walked in first, posture relaxed, like this was nothing more than a routine debrief. Hyunbin followed, hands tucked casually into his pockets, expression unreadable. Kunho closed the door behind them with quiet finality.

He didn’t know them personally, but well enough. They were older agents, the ones Chan had grown up with and trained with. Faces he’d passed in hallways and briefing rooms. Men who had nodded at him in approval when Chan’s team succeeded.

Hyunbin tilted his head slightly, studying Felix like he was a report rather than a person.

“You really shouldn’t have dug so deep,” he said calmly.

Felix blinked, trying to force clarity into his panic-fogged mind.

“I…” His voice cracked, dry and barely audible. He swallowed, trying again. “I didn’t—”

“You noticed patterns we didn’t expect you to notice,” Youmin said, almost thoughtfully. “That was impressive.”

The compliment felt wrong in the air.

Hyunbin stepped closer, hands clasped loosely behind his back.

“You’ve been a very successful operative, Agent Yongbok. Clean work, strong loyalty metrics, exceptional tech integration.”

Felix stared at him, struggling to understand where this was going.

“But,” he continued, “success doesn’t mean suitability.”

Youmin gave a quiet hum of agreement.

“You never should have been selected for Bang Chan’s team.”

The words landed harder than the restraints, and Felix’s pulse spiked.

“You were a risk,” Youmin said evenly. “Too emotional and attached. That team requires efficiency and precision. Not sentiment.”

Felix’s throat tightened painfully.

He remembered the probation period. The whispers that he was too soft, the near dismissal. The extra hours in the gym with Minho when everyone else had gone to sleep. The bruises he’d hidden. The way Chan had stood between him and the board when they’d questioned his place.

“You weren’t good enough,” Hyunbin said plainly. “And you still aren’t.”

The room seemed to tilt slightly.

“You got close to something you shouldn’t have,” Kunho says, “and now we’re going to correct that oversight.”

He stepped forward until he was directly in front of Felix.

“Think of it as cleaning up Chan’s little mistake.”

The words sliced deeper than the restraints ever could.

Felix’s heart pounded violently across his ribs. For a fleeting second, doubt tried to bloom, the old familiar fear that maybe they were right. Maybe he had been the weak link. Maybe this was inevitable.

The hum in the room shifted.

Felix’s eyes widened a fraction before the current hit. A surge that slammed through him without warning, locking his muscles in place and stealing the air from his lungs. His back arched involuntarily against the chair, vision flaring white at the edges as pain flooded every nerve at once.

His jaw clenched shut, a strangled whine the only sound breaking through his lips.

The current intensified, holding him there, his every muscle screaming. His thoughts fractured under the weight of it, splintering into bright, broken pieces.

The current cut abruptly, leaving his body shaking against the restraints. Sweat cooled instantly against his skin, breath tearing in and out of his lungs in ragged pulls.

Youmin exhaled softly. “See? You’re not built for this.”

Felix’s jaw tightened weakly. He refused to look away from them; he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him shrink.

“Let’s not drag this out,” Kunho said quietly.

Electricity tore through him, stronger than before, ripping a broken sound from his throat despite every effort to hold it back. His body arched violently against the restraints, muscles locking and every nerve igniting at once in a blinding white flood that erased coherent thought.

The world narrowed to static and fire, vision flashing white, then black, then white again as his consciousness fractured under the force of it. His fingers strained uselessly against the restraints.

The current surged again, and Felix went limp against the restraints as everything fell into darkness.

-

Minho had stopped blinking somewhere around the tenth replay.

The tablet rested in his hands, but it no longer felt like an object. It felt like a wound he kept pressing on just to make sure it still hurt. The footage rolled again, the timestamp blinking in the corner, the familiar layout of main control filling the screen in cold, grainy detail.

There was Jisung, hunched over the console, and then Felix.

Minho leaned forward slightly without realizing he was doing it, breath held hostage in his lungs as Felix burst into frame. Even without audio, Minho could clearly see the panic and urgency in the way Felix’s hands reached for Jisung.

Felix wasn’t built for this part.

He wasn’t meant to be the one running towards danger.

Felix wasn’t used to being in the field. He wasn’t used to taking hits. He wasn’t supposed to be the one thrown backward when the explosion bloomed across the screen like a violent sun.

The flash swallowed everything in white, and Minho watched again as Felix’s body was hurled out of frame before the feed dissolved into static.

His fingers tightened until the edge of the tablet dug painfully into his palm.

He rewound it and watched again.

Each time, he found some new detail to obsess over, the angle of Felix’s shoulders, the split second of eye contact with Jisung, the way his posture shifted like he had already decided he could take whatever was coming.

Minho’s jaw ached from clenching it.

They had targeted Felix. Felix had been safe behind screens and code, and yet someone had reached inside and ripped that safety apart with surgical precision.

“Hyung,” Hyunjin said quietly, his voice careful, like he was approaching something wounded.

Minho didn’t answer. The explosion filled the screen again.

Hyunjin reached over gently and placed his hand over the tablet, lowering it inch by inch until Minho was forced to look at him instead.

“You’re going to break it,” Hyunjin murmured, his thumb brushing lightly against Minho’s knuckles in an attempt at grounding him.

Minho’s eyes flicked up, dark and storm-heavy, but he didn’t pull away when Hyunjin slid the tablet from his grip and set it aside. 

“Jisung is stable,” Hyunjin continued, his voice steadier now. “He talked to us, he’s conscious.” 

Minho nodded once, the motion mechanical. 

“And we’ll find Lix-ah,” Hyunjin said, softer still. 

Minho reached for him then without thinking, fingers wrapping tightly around Hyunjin’s hand, anchoring himself to something solid before he could drift into the worst places his min wanted to go. He didn’t trust himself to speak. If he opened his mouth, he was afraid the only thing that would come out was rage. 

Because every possible outcome kept circling him. 

Felix alone. Felix tied up. Felix hurt. 

Minho had trained him. He had stood across from him in the gym long after the others had gone to sleep, correcting his stance, pushing him harder and forcing him to grow into something stronger than the whispers that said he didn’t belong. He remembered the way Felix had refused to quiet, even when his hands shook and his lip bled and the doubt flickered behind his eyes. 

He remembered promising that Felix would never face anything alone again. 

The car jerked as it slowed, tired crunching against gravel as they pulled into the compound. The sudden deceleration snapped Minho out of his spiraling thoughts. 

The doors were yanked open before any of them could react. 

Armed agents surrounded the vehicle, weapons drawn but angled low in a gesture that was meant to be controlled rather than chaotic. The air felt charged, like the seconds before a storm finally breaks. 

“What is this?” Changbin demanded, already stepping out. 

“Out of the vehicle,” one of the agents ordered sharply. 

Minho exited slowly, every muscle tight, his eyes scanning automatically for threats and exits. Chan stepped beside him, shoulders squared, his presence commanding even in silence. 

“We just completed a mission,” Chan said evenly, though there was steel threaded through his tone. “Explain.” 

“The Director wants to see you,” one of the agents replied. “Now.” 

One of them grabbed Jeongin by the arm, pulling him forward more roughly than necessary. Jeongin stumbled slightly, caught off balance. 

Minho snapped, he surged forward before he consciously decided to move, shoving the agent’s hand away with barely controlled force. 

“Don’t touch him like that,” Minho said. 

Weapons shifted upward in response. 

“Stand down,” Chan barked sharply, stepping between Minho and the agents before the tension could ignite into something worse. His gaze locked with the lead officer. “You will explain.” 

“You’ll get your explanation upstairs.” 

-

As they were escorted down the hallway, armed agents flanking them like criminals instead of operatives who had just returned from a mission, something cold began to pool low in his stomach. The air felt different, thicker somehow, as though everyone they passed already knew something they didn’t. 

The directors office doors opened. 

Jeongin stepped inside and immediately forgot about the guns at his back. 

Seungmin and Jisung were already there. 

Jisung was pale, a bandage wrapped around his temple, and his movements slower than usual. He was leaning heavily against Seungmin’s side, one hand gripping the fabric of Seungmin’s sleeve. Seungmin’s posture was rigid and protective, one arm braced around Jisung’s waist as if daring anyone to try and separate them. 

Jeongin’s chest tightened. 

Something is wrong. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Felix was missing. They were supposed to be mobilizing every available resource. Instead, they were being treated like detainees. 

Before anyone could stop him, Jeongin wrenched himself free from the agent’s grip and crossed the room in quick strides, ignoring the shouted warning behind him. 

“Hyung,” he breathed, reaching Jisung. His hands hovered uncertainly before settling carefully on Jisung’s shoulders. “Are you okay?” 

Jisung blinked up at him, eyes unfocused for half a second before recognition sharpened them. 

“I’m fine,” he said automatically, though his voice dragged slightly at the edges. “Just… headache.” 

Seungmin gave Jeongin a look that said he was monitoring it, that Jisung wasn’t in immediate danger, but the tension in his jaw betrayed how thin that reassurance really was. 

“We’re okay,” Seungmin added quietly. 

Jeongin nodded, though the feeling in his gut only deepened. 

The rest of them gathered instinctively, Minho close to Jisung’s other side, Changbin and Hyunjin flanking them, and Chan stepping forward just enough to place himself subtly between the team and the agents lining the walls. 

Then, the director emerged from the inner office, not concerned or hurried as Jeongin would suspect her to be at the news of a breach and a missing agent, rather she looked irritated. 

“We will give you one opportunity to be truthful,” Director Kim said. 

Jeongin frowned, confusion prickling under his skin. “Truthful about what?” 

Her gaze swept over them, unimpressed. 

“We have uncovered substantial evidence that Agent Yongbok has been siphoning classified information,” she said evenly. “Accessing servers outside his clearance level and redirecting sensitive data.” 

Jeongin’s world seemed to stall, the sound in the room dulling like someone had pressed cotton into his ears. 

“No,” he said immediately. 

“That’s not possible,” Changbin snapped, stepping forward. 

“You’re wrong. There’s no way.” Hyunjin shook his head violently. 

“Quiet,” Director Kim barked, her composure cracking just slightly. 

“We have undeniable proof. Logins under his credentials, unauthorized server breaches, and data trails leading to external nodes.” 

Jeongin felt like the floor had dropped away beneath him. 

“He would never betray us,” Jeongin said. “You know that.” 

Chan stepped forward slowly, voice controlled in a way that screamed danger. 

“We’ve seen the aftermath of the explosion. If you’re suggesting he planted it to cover something up you’re wrong.” 

Director Kim’s expression didn’t shift. 

“We are suggesting that Agent Yongbok’s recent activity correlates directly with classified leaks. We are suggesting that he panicked when he realized he was being investigated.” 

“You expect us to believe,” Minho said slowly, “that Yongbok betrayed this team.” 

“I expect you to understand that evidence outweighs personal attachment.” 

The words stung. 

Jeongin felt heat rush to his face, anger and fear tangling together in his chest. They were talking about Felix like he was a file, a liability. 

“He’s missing,” Jeongin said, the reality crashing into him all over again. “He was taken in that explosion. And you’re accusing him?” 

“Until proven otherwise,” she replied coldly, “Agent Yongbok is a primary suspect in both the internal security breach and the explosion.” 

The room felt smaller. They weren’t looking for Felix. They were building a case against him. 

“We don’t know anything about this,” Chan said firmly. “If there are irregularities in the logs, then something is wrong with the system. Felix wouldn’t sell information. He wouldn’t risk the team.” 

Director Kim’s eyes flicked over them, unreadable. “That remains to be determined.” 

Agents stepped forward. 

“You will be detained while we conduct a full review of your mission history and communications.” 

“You’re detaining us?” Hyunjin stared at her in disbelief. 

“For the integrity of the investigation.” 

They tried to protest. Changbin stepped forward  instantly, and Hyunjin’s voice rose, sharp and incredulous. Minho didn’t speak, he just put himself between Jisung and Seungmin and the approaching agents. 

Weapons lifted in response. 

“Stand down,” One of the officers warned. 

Jeongin felt hands clamp around his arms, firm and unyielding. The shift from accusation to force happened so quickly it left him breathless. 

They were being treated like suspects, like accomplices. 

The holding cell door slid shut behind all seven of them with a metallic finality that echoed far too loudly in the silence. 

Chan moved first, stepping toward the barrier. 

“Where is he?” he demanded. “If you’re calling him a suspect, then where is he?” 

No one answered. 

Jeongin saw the moment something inside Chan started to crack. His hands hit the reinforced surface, once, twice, the sound reverberating through the small space. 

“If you’ve touched him—” 

Jeongin grabbed him from behind before he could strike it again. 

“Hyung,” he said urgently, wrapping his arms around Chan’s waist and pulling him back with all the strength he had. “Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.” 

Chan’s chest rose and fell in sharp, furious breaths. 

Jeongin understood the desperation in his eyes. 

Because if the agency truly believed Felix was capable of betrayal, they wouldn’t treat him gently while they tried to prove it. 

-

Jisung could feel every heartbeat in his skull. 

It pulsed there, deep and relentless, a dull, heavy pressure that made the worm seem slightly tilted every time he lifted his head. The fluorescent lights above the holding cell buzzed faintly, their harsh white glow stabbing into the back of his eyes and making the ache worse, but closing them didn’t help either. Everytime he let the darkness settle behind his eyelids, the same moment replayed in brutal clarity. 

Felix running into operations. The panic in his voice. 

The way his hands had grabbed Jisung’s with a desperation that had instantly set every alarm in Jisung’s mind ringing, even before he’d had time to process the words Felix was trying to force out. 

And then the explosion. 

The memory struck again, sharp and sudden, and Jisung inhaled slowly through his teeth as if the sound itself might split his skull open. 

He pressed the heel of his hand carefully against his temple, trying to steady the spinning sensation that crept in whenever he thought too hard. 

“Stop doing that,” Seungmin murmured beside him. 

Jisung opened one eye. 

Seungmin was watching him closely, the practiced calm of a medic written all over his posture even in the cramped space of the holding cell. One hand remained loosely braced around Jisung’s arm, steadying him. 

“You’re making your concussion worse,” Seungmin added quietly. 

Jisung let out a weak breath of laughter that felt more like air leaving a cracked pipe than anything resembling humor. 

“Bit late to start worrying about that now.” 

Seungmin didn’t argue, but his gaze softened in a way that suggested he disagreed. Instead of responding verbally, he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled something out. 

A tablet. 

Jisung blinked, his sluggish brain taking a second to catch up. 

“You—” Changbin started from across the cell. 

Seungmin lifted one eyebrow slightly, a faint trace of dry amusement flickering across his face despite everything. “They never searched me.” 

Minho exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head once. “Of course they didn’t.” 

Seungmin ignored him and turned his attention back to Jisung, extending the tablet toward him with quiet confidence. 

“You’re the only one here who can actually make sense of the system logs,” he said. 

For a moment, Jisung simply stared at it. The device felt heavier than it should when he finally took it. The screen flickered to life beneath his touch, the familiar interface washing over him like a strange kind of relief. 

Code was simple, code made sense. 

His fingers moved slowly at first, navigating through layers of the internal network while the others gathered close enough to see the glow of the screen. 

“He ran in,” Jisung murmured under his breath, the memory slipping back into his thoughts as he worked. 

“He ran in before the explosion,” he continued quietly, his voice low and distracted as he pulled up the control room logs. “Lix-ah… he grabbed my hands and was trying to tell me something. He looked like—” 

Jisung hesitated, the image tightening painfully in his chest. 

“Like what?” Hyunjin asked gently. 

Jisung swallowed, his gaze flicking briefly toward the floor before returning to the tablet. 

“Like he was scared,” he said softly. “Like he had figured something out and didn’t know how much time he has left to explain it.” 

His fingers continued moving as the logs began to populate across the screen in long streams of text and system commands. 

Server access points. Encrypted pathways. Security credentials. 

Jisung froze, because there it was, the evidence was right there of unauthorized server entries under Felix’s credentials. 

For a long moment, Jisung simply stared at it, because it looked exactly like what Director Kim had described. It looked like FElix had been quietly pulling information from restricted archives and sending it somewhere it didn’t belong. 

Changbin leaned forward slightly, reading the screen over Jisung’s shoulder. “That’s what they’re talking about, isn’t it?” 

Jisung nodded slowly, though the movement made his head throb harder. 

“That’s what they see,” he said quietly. “That’s why they think he’s leaking information.” 

Chan stepped closer, his shadow falling across the screen as his voice lowered. “But you don’t believe that.” 

Jisung shook his head immediately. 

“Felix wouldn’t do this.” 

His fingers began moving again, faster this time despite the pounding behind his eyes 

If Felix had discovered something dangerous, if he had rushed into operations trying to warn Jisung, then there had to be more here. Felix never left problems unfinished. If he had realized someone might come after him, he would have hidden the truth somewhere the system itself couldn’t erase. 

Jisung forced himself to breathe slowly, ignoring the dizziness creeping in at the edges  of his vision. 

Think like Felix. 

What would Felix do if he knew someone was watching him? His eyes flicked sideways across the architecture map of the internal system, and that’s when he noticed it. 

A tiny pathway, barely noticeable against the background code, hidden behind a maintenance protocol Felix had written months earlier. 

Jisung’s breath caught. 

“You sneaky little genius,” he whispered. 

His fingers moved quickly now, chasing the pathway deeper into the system. The false logs peeled away almost immediately. Behind them, buried beneath layers of mirrored data and carefully constructed misdirection, the real command trail revealed itself. 

Jisung’s heart began to beat faster. 

“They copied his credentials,” he murmured. 

“What?” Minho asked quietly. 

Jisung looked up, his eyes sharper now despite the exhaustion dragging at his body. 

“They used Felix’s username to route the data. Everything the agency showed us?” His fingers tapped the falsified log entries. “It’s a mirror.” 

Jeongin leaned closer, his brows knitting together. “Meaning?” 

“Meaning someone made it look like Felix accessed those files,” Jisung said. “But the actual command trail doesn’t originate from his console.” 

Chan’s voice dropped another octave. “Then where does it come from?” 

Jisung ran one final trace command, and the answer appeared instantly. 

Internal network. 

A chill moved down Jisung’s spine. 

“Inside the building,” he finished quietly. 

The silence that followed felt heavier than anything that had come before. 

Minho’s expression hardened into something frighteningly calm. 

“They framed him,” Changbin said. 

Jisung nodded. 

“And whoever did it,” he added carefully, “had clearance.” 

The realization lingered in the air for several long seconds before Jisung shifted the screen again, opening a different interface entirely. 

Security control protocols and emergency system overrides. 

Jisung rubbed his temple briefly, trying to ignore the way the room seemed to sway slightly when he moved. 

“If I reroute through the maintenance grid, I can unlock this cell and shut off the lights,” he said slowly. 

Chan studied him carefully. “For how long?” 

Jisung exhaled. 

“Maybe a minute.” 

The others exchanged quick glances, silent understanding moving through the group like electricity. 

Minho crouched beside Jisung, his voice low enough that only he could hear it. 

“You steady enough to fight?” 

Jisung lifted his gaze to meet his. The headache was still there, the dizziness too, but underneath it all, something harder settled into place. 

Felix had been taken and framed, and Felix had tried to warn him. 

Jisung straightened slightly, determination sharpening the exhaustion out of his expression. 

“I don’t care,” he said quietly. His fingers hovered over the final command. 

“Right now,” he continued, his voice steady despite the storm inside his chest, “the only thing that matters—" 

He pressed the key. 

“—is Felix.” 

The lights went out. 

-

The moment the lights went out, Changbin moved. 

There was no hesitation or pause to see what the others would do first. The darkness swallowed the hallway outside their holding cell in an instant, alarms beginning to wail somewhere deeper in the facility, but Changbin’s body was moving before the sound finished echoing. His mind had been mapping the room from the moment they were shoved inside, memorizing where the guards had been standing, how far the nearest one was from the door, and which direction the hallway opened into. 

Felix was somewhere inside this building. 

That thought burned hot and steady in his chest, sharper than fear. 

The cell door slid open with a soft mechanical click, and Changbin exploded through it. 

The first guard had only just started to turn toward the sound when Changbin closed the distance between them in two long strides. He grabbed the man by the front of his tactical vest and slammed him backward into the wall hard enough that the impact echoed. The guard's rifle lifted instinctively, but Changbin was moving faster than the man could react. 

His hand shot forward, wrenching the weapon sideways before it could fire. His elbow then came up sharply beneath the man’s jaw. 

The guard crumpled immediately, Changbin lowered him just enough to strip the rifle from his hands before letting him collapse to the floor. 

Footsteps thundered behind him as the others poured out of the cell. 

Another agent rushed forward from the darkness, reaching for the sidearm clipped to his hip. Changbin stepped directly into him without slowly, one hand catching the man’s wrist while the other drove a brutal punch into his ribs. The air burst out of the guard’s lungs in a ragged gasp before Changbin twisted, driving him down to the floor and wrenching the handgun free. 

Changbin turned, thrusting the rifle toward Chan. 

“Take it.” 

Chan caught it without question, already pivoting into position as he checked the corridor ahead. 

Changbin shoved the handgun toward Jeongin next, pressing it firmly into his hands. 

“Jeongin-ah,” he ordered. “You cover Seungmin-ah and Jisung-ah. Don’t let anyone get near them.” 

Jeongin nodded sharply, the seriousness in his eyes cutting straight through the fear. He stepped into position in front of Seungmin and Jisung, raising the weapon with steady hands despite the chaos unfolding around them. 

Another guard came charging from further down the hall. 

Minho met him halfway. 

The impact between them sounded like a car crash in the narrow hallway as Minho drove his shoulder straight into the man’s chest, knocking him off balance. Changbin was there a second later, stepping in from the side to slam his forearm across the guard’s throat before ripping the rifle from his grip and sending him crashing to the ground. 

Everything blurred together after that. 

Bodies colliding. Boots skidding against the tile. The sharp crack of fists striking armor and the dull thud of someone hitting the ground. Changbin grabbed another agent by the arm as the man tried to fire blindly down the hall, twisting hard enough to hear the joint give before driving him into the wall and stripping the weapon away. 

His every movement was quick and ruthless. 

Felix was somewhere in this building, possibly hurt and the thought of him alone with the agency that was supposed to protect him turned on him made Changbin’s vision burn red. 

The lights snapped back on, and for a split second, the brightness stunned them all. 

Every guard in the hallway was down. 

Bodies were scattered across the floor, weapons lying abandoned where they had fallen. The air smelled of ozone and sweat, the echo of the fight still vibrating through the walls. 

Chan lowered the rifle, chest rising and falling with controlled breaths as his gaze immediately snapped to Jisung. 

“Where are they holding him?” 

Jisung looked pale beneath the harsh lights, still leaning slightly against Seugmin’s shoulder, but his eyes were focused now, sharp despite the lingering dizziness. 

“Lower containment,” he said quickly. “Security wing C.” 

Chan nodded once. 

“Move.”

They took off down the hallway together, boots pounding against the tile as adrenaline surged through them. Changbin stayed slightly ahead of the others, running beside Chan as they pushed deeper into the facility. 

Two more agents burst out from a side hallway ahead of them. 

Changbin didn’t even slow down. 

He slammed into the nearest one, driving him backward into the wall with enough force to knock the wind out of him before wrenching the weapon from his hands. 

The second guard raised his rifle and Chan knocked it aside with the stock of his own weapon before driving a punch into the man’s chest that sent him collapsing. 

They kept moving. 

The hallway ahead narrowed toward the containment sector, reinforced doors lining the walls, when suddenly a figure stumbled around the corner. 

Changbin reacted instantly, he grabbed the man by the front of his jacket and slammed him against the wall, his fist already raised and ready to drive into the man’s face—

“WOAH—WAIT!” 

Changbin froze mid-swing. He blinked. 

Wooyoung stared back at him, eyes wide. 

 Changbin slowly lowered his fist. 

“Aish,” he released him with a shove, stepping back. “Almost hit you.” 

Wooyoung straightened his jacket with a breathless laugh. 

Hongjoong stepped out behind him, hands raised in a calming gesture. 

“We’re here to help,” he said quickly. “We found Felix’s code. The hidden pathway he left in the system. It shows someone inside the agency framed him.” 

Chan stepped forward immediately. “You saw it?” 

Hongjoong nodded. 

“The moment we confirmed it, we realized what they were doing. They’re trying to bury the evidence and get rid of him.” 

Seonghwa stepped forward. 

“There’s a car waiting outside,” he said. “We’ll hold the hallway and slow security down while you get Felix.” 

Changbin glanced toward Wooyoung again and gave him a quick nod of appreciation. 

San looked down the hallway toward the containment wing, his voice tight with urgency. 

“You’ve got maybe a few minutes before the system resets.” 

Almost as if the building itself was responding to the warning, the reinforced cell door at the end of the hallway unlocked with a mechanical hiss. 

-

Hyunjin didn’t remember running. One moment he was moving down the hallway with the others, and the next moment he was through the doorway with his heart hammering so violently it felt like it might crack his ribs. 

Cold overhead lights illuminated bare concrete walls, a single metal chair bolted to the floor in the center of the room, cables trailing across the ground like discarded snakes, and Felix. 

Hyunjin’s breath caught so sharply it hurt. 

Felix was slumped forward in the chair, wrists bound to the metal frame, his ankles restrained to the legs so he couldn't move even if he tried. His head hung slightly to the side, blonde hair falling across his face in messy strands. 

He wasn’t moving. 

Hyunjin crossed the room before anyone else could. 

“Felix—” 

The name came out softer than he expected, his voice cracking slightly as he dropped down in front of him. His hands lifted instinctively, gently framing Felix’s face between his palms as he tilted his head up just enough to see him properly. 

“Angel,” Hyunjin murmured, his thumb brushing lightly across Felix’s cheek. “Hey… hey, it’s us. Wake up.” 

Felix’s skin was warm beneath his hands, but his breathing was uneven, shallow in a way that made Hyunjin’s chest tighten painfully. 

Minho reached them a second later, already crouching beside the chair as his hands went immediately to the restraints. 

“What did they do to you,” Minho muttered under his breath, his voice dangerously quiet as he began undoing the metal locks one by one. 

Hyunjin kept his attention on Felix. 

“Angel,” he tried again softly, brushing Felix’s hair back from his forehead. “Come on, Yongbok. You can wake up now.” 

For a long moment nothing happened. 

Then, Felix made a small sound. A soft, weak whine that barely escaped his throat. 

Hyunjin’s heart lurched. 

Felix’s eyelids fluttered slowly, his expression tightening slightly as consciousness began creeping back in. He blinked once, then twice, his gaze unfocused as it drifted upward toward Hyunjin’s face. 

“Hyun…?” he whispered hoarsely. 

“I’m here,” Hyunjin said immediately, relief flooding through his chest so suddenly it made his hands shake. “We’re all here.” 

Felix shifted slightly in his chair as Minho finished undoing the final restraint, his body sagging forward the moment the tension released. 

That was when Hyunjin saw it. 

Dark red marks lined Felix’s wrists and forearms, angry patches of skin where the electrodes had burned through the surface. Some of the marks had spread up toward his sleeves, faint traces of blistered skin that hadn’t fully cooled yet. 

Hyunjin’s stomach dropped. 

“Hyung,” he said quietly, turning Felix’s arm slightly so the older could see. 

Minho followed his gaze, and for a split second, his expression didn’t change. Then, something cold and dangerous settled over his features, his jaw tightening so sharply that the muscle jumped beneath his chin. 

The others had gathered around them by then. 

Chan’s face went pale when he saw the burns. Changbin swore gently under his breath. Seungmin immediately crouched beside them, his medic instincts kicking in as he gently checked Felix’s pulse and breathing. 

“They used electricity,” Seungmin muttered grimly .

Felix shifted again weakly, his eyes blinking open a little wider as the fog in his head slowly cleared. His gaze drifted past Hyunjin, searching the room until it landed on Jisung. 

Felix’s hand lifted weakly. 

“Ji…” he murmured, voice rough. “Are you okay?” 

Jisung let out a short, incredulous laugh as he stepped closer. “Lix-ah, you should worry about yourself for once.” 

Felix blinked at him, looking mildly confused for a moment before a faint, tired smile tugged at the corner of his lips. 

Hyunjin slid one arm carefully behind Felix’s back and the other beneath his knees, lifting him smoothly out of the chair. 

Felix’s body sagged against him immediately, his weight settling fully into Hyunjin’s arms. 

Chan stepped closer as Hyunjin straightened. 

“Felix,” he said gently, making sure he had his attention. “Listen to me, little one. Someone inside the agency framed you. They used your credentials to access the servers.” 

Felix blinked slowly, trying to process the words. 

“I–I was trying to tell Jisung,” he murmured. “I found the logs and– and then the explosion happened.” 

Chan nodded. “We know.” 

From the doorway, Jeongin glanced nervously down the hallway. 

“We should go,” he said urgently. “Now.” 

Felix shifted slightly in Hyunjin’s arms as if he meant to stand. 

“I can–” 

“No,” Hyunjin interrupted immediately. His grip tightened just enough to make the point clear. 

“You’re not walking.” 

Felix let out a faint breath of laughter despite everything, the sound weak. 

“Okay,” he admitted quietly, relaxing back against Hyunjin’s chest. 

Minho stepped forward then, reaching out to brush Felix’s hair gently back from his face. His expression had softened slightly, though the fury still lingered in his eyes. 

“Nothing else is getting close to you,” Minho said quietly. 

Felix nodded faintly. 

Chan glanced toward the hallway one last time. “Let’s move.” 

They didn’t waste another second. 

Hyunjin tightened his hold on Felix and followed the others out into the corridor, their footsteps echoing as they ran toward the exit where the car was waiting. 

-

The car doors slammed shut one after another, the sharp sounds echoing in the quiet stretch of road outside the facility as the vehicle lurched forward. 

Seungmin barely registered the motion, the moment they piled into the van, his focus had narrowed to one thing. Felix. 

He was laid carefully across the back seats, Hyunjin refusing to relinquish him even long enough for Seungmin to properly reposition him. In the end they had compromised with Felix’s head resting in Hyunjin’s lap while Hyunjin curled protectively around him, one hand threaded gently through Felix’s hair. 

Seungmin knelt awkwardly on the floor between the seats, the small emergency kit he had grabbed from the glove compartment spread out beside him as the car sped through the dark streets. 

It wasn’t much, barely anything compared to what Felix should be getting in a proper medical wing, but it would have to do. 

“Alright,” Seungmin murmured quietly, carefully lifting Felix’s arm so he could see the burns again under the dim interior light. 

Angry red patches marred the skin along Felix’s wrists and forearms. Some of the marks were shallow, already fading into pink irritation, but others were darker, the skin blistered and tender where the current had burned deeper. 

Seungmin felt his jaw tighten slightly. 

“They used controlled voltage,” he said softly, more to himself than anyone else. 

Hyunjin’s fingers stilled in Felix’s hair. 

“Is it bad?” Hyunjin asked quietly. 

Seungmin shook his head gently as he squeezed a thin line of burn gel onto the gauze. 

“It looks worse than it is,” he reassured him. “Most of it’s superficial. It’ll hurt for a few days, but it should heal without scarring.” 

Hyunjin exhaled slowly. 

Felix shifted slightly at the sensation as Seungmin began carefully pressing the cool gauze against the burns. 

“Sorry,” Seungmin murmured automatically. 

Felix made a small sound, something halfway between a sleepy whine and a laugh. 

“S’okay,” he mumbled. 

Seungmin glanced up briefly. 

Felix’s eyes were half-lidded, exhaustion clearly weighing on him now that the adrenaline had faded, but the tension that had been locked into his shoulders earlier had eased slightly. 

Hyunjin still hadn’t let go of him. One arm was wrapped loosely around Felix’s shoulders while his other hand rested lightly against Felix’s cheek, his thumb brushing absent along the edge of his jaw. 

Seungmin noticed something else too, Minho, the other had settled on the bench set, his posture deceptively calm except for the way one of his hands had curled firmly around Felix’s calf where it rested across the seat. 

Across from them, the rest sat in various states of tense silence. 

Jeongin leaned forward slightly, elbows braced on his knees, watching Felix like he was afraid to blink in case something changed. Jisung sat beside him, looking pale and drained, his concussion still making him quieter than usual. 

Changbin had his arms folded across his chest, constantly looking back from his place in the passenger seat, while Chan drove with his shoulders so tense they were up by his ears. 

Felix noticed as his eyes drifted slowly across the van until he had managed to look at each of them. 

“I’m okay,” he said roughly, still tired, but the words were steady. 

The tension in the car shifted slightly. 

“Yeah,” he muttered. “You look fantastic.” 

Felix smiled faintly at that. After a moment, he turned his head slightly toward the front seat. 

“Chris?” 

Chan looked back immediately. 

Felix blinked slowly. 

“What are we going to do now?” 

For a long moment, Chan didn’t answer. He leaned back in the seat, running one tired hand through his hair as he stared out the windshield at the dark highway stretching ahead of them. 

Then he sighed. 

“Well,” he said finally. 

“I guess we’re going on a road trip.” 

There was a small pause. Then Felix’s face brightened, despite everything. 

“I love road trips,” he said tiredly, his voice soft and cheerful. 

The tension in the van finally cracked. 

Jisung snorted. 

Changbin let out a breath that turned into a laugh, and Jeognin shook his head with a small smile, the tightness in his shoulders easing for the first time since the explosion. 

Minho huffed out a laugh, closing his eyes as he leaned back into his chair, Hyunjin’s laugh following a second later, his fingers still combing through Felix’s hair. 

Seungmin looked down at the bandaged burns one last time before leaning back slightly, satisfied with what little he could do for now. 

Chan just sighed before a smile overtook his face, before turning up the music, and driving them into their newest adventure.