The last students leave the dance studio, their laughter echoing in the empty hallway. Y/N stretches her arms above her head, trying to ease the tiredness from a long day of teaching. The clock shows it's nine-thirty p.m. Another late night.

She gathers her things, shoving her ballet slippers and water bottle into her bag. The studio feels empty now, without the energy that filled it just moments ago. Her footsteps echo as she walks to the door, turning off the lights one by one. The night air is cool against her skin when she steps outside. The streetlights shine orange over the sidewalk. She breathes in the smell of the city—exhaust fumes mixed with the warm scent of pizza from the shop next door.

Y/N walks faster, her sneakers hitting the concrete loudly. Just last week, someone tried to mug her, but she's heard that person has been caught.

This city is supposed to be safe, but it doesn't feel that way anymore. Something has changed. The usual sounds of traffic are gone, replaced by a strange silence that makes her skin prickle. Even the stray cats that usually roam the streets are missing.

Suddenly, the quiet is broken. A car engine roars to life behind her, the sound loud in the still night. She turns around and sees a black SUV parked by the curb. Its tinted windows are so dark that they reflect the streetlights.

Her heart races as she turns back, trying to stay calm. "It's nothing," she tells herself, but her legs move faster on their own. Her dance bag thumps against her hip, feeling heavier with every step.The SUV's engine revs, and she hears tires crunching on the road.

A quick look back confirms her fear. The SUV is moving, slowly creeping down the street like a predator hunting its prey."Hey!" Y/N calls out, hoping to get attention from nearby apartments. Her voice sounds weak and scared in the empty street. "Is someone there?"

No answer. Just the slow, steady approach of the SUV behind her. Remembering her close call from last week, she drops all calm and breaks into a run, her bag bouncing wildly. She prays it doesn't fall, but she wouldn't stop to pick it up. Material things can be replaced, but her safety can't.

Her heart jumps at the sound of squealing tires behind her. She can't outrun a car.

Suddenly, she hears footsteps pounding behind her. There's more than one person chasing her now. What is happening?

A gunshot cracks the air, and she screams, ducking instinctively. More gunfire erupts, but it's not aimed at her. She takes a quick glance back and sees men in dark suits fighting with her pursuers. Those can't be the police—they don't dress like that and are never out here at this hour.

Before she can understand what's happening, strong arms grab her. She struggles, kicking and clawing at her attacker, but his grip is like iron.

"Stop fighting," a rough voice growls in her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "We're here to protect you."

Her heart races faster than ever, and she doesn't believe him. With a burst of energy, she throws her elbow back, feeling it hit something solid. His ribs, maybe. He grunts in pain, but his grip doesn't loosen. If anything, it tightens.

"I said stop," he says firmly through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, another pair of hands grabs her legs. Her feet leave the ground, and she's held between two men, twisting and thrashing in their grip.

"Let me go!" she shouts, her voice breaking with anger and fear. "Help! Somebody help me!" Her screams echo off the buildings, but no one comes to her aid. It feels like she lives in a ghost town, deserted by anyone who could help.

The men carry her quickly down the sidewalk, her wild kicks barely slowing them down. Up ahead, she sees a shiny black limousine waiting at the curb, its tinted windows hiding what's inside.

"No, no, no," she mutters, trying even harder to break free, but it's useless.

The limo's rear door swings open with a soft click. Before she can react, she's shoved inside, the cold leather seat pressing against her skin. She scrambles to sit up, but the door slams shut, locking her in when she tries the handle.

The limo's interior is dark, the smell of leather and pine air freshener filling the air. Her heart beats like a trapped bird against her ribs as she scoots back, pressing herself against the far door. The cool glass chills her skin through her thin blouse. That door handle is locked too, leaving her with no way out.

Two men slide into the seat across from her, their large frames blocking the dim light from outside. Their faces are blank, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses even though it's late. One of them leans forward, his big hand reaching toward her.

Y/N jerks away, her elbow hitting the armrest hard. "Don't touch me!" she says, her voice hoarse from screaming.

The man stops, his hand hanging in the air. "I'm Kim Taehyung, and this is my brother, Kim Seokjin. We won't hurt you, Miss Y/N," he says, his deep voice surprisingly gentle. "We need to get you to safety."

She looks between the two men, searching for any sign of lies. "Safety from what? Who are you? What do you want with me?"

Neither man answers. Taehyung leans back in his seat, exchanging a quick glance with Seokjin. Before she can ask more questions, the limo starts moving. Tires squeal on the road as they pull away from the curb, the sudden speed pushing her deeper into the soft seat.