Valerie stirred slowly, the dull ache in her arm pulling her out of sleep. Her eyelids fluttered open, vision hazy at first—white walls, muted light, the steady hum of a small heater nearby. When she tried to move, pain shot through her knuckles, wrapped tightly in clean white bandages as she winced softly.
“That’s your cue to stay still.”
Valerie turned her head. Sally was sitting beside the bed, arms crossed, eyes tired but alert.
“Sally…” Valerie’s voice came out hoarse. “Where is Jiyoo?”
Sally exhaled quietly before answering. “He had to leave early.”
Valerie’s chest tightened. “Why?”
“He’s at dance rehearsals with K-East,” Sally explained. “They couldn’t delay it any longer.”
Valerie frowned, staring up at the ceiling. “After everything that happened…”
“I know,” Sally said gently. “But he stayed with you all night. Wouldn’t even sit down. He only left when he was sure you were stable.”
Valerie swallowed hard, her fingers curling slightly against the sheets. “Did he say anything?”
Sally nodded. “He told me to tell you he didn’t want to go. That he’d come back the moment rehearsals were done.”
Valerie closed her eyes, the tension in her chest easing just a little. A quiet mix of worry and comfort settled in her heart.
“Figures,” she murmured. “He always leaves when he doesn’t want to.”
Sally smiled faintly. “Yeah. But this time… he’s coming back.”
Valerie breathed in slowly, letting the warmth of that promise linger as the room fell silent again—soft, still, and safe, for now. She let out a low grunt as she pushed herself upright, pain flaring sharply through her arm and knuckles. Her breath hitched, but she refused to lie back down. Instead, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, feet touching the cold floor.
“Valerie—” Sally started, immediately standing.
“I can’t just sit here,” Valerie said through clenched teeth. “Not after everything.” She steadied herself against the bed frame, wincing as her bandaged arm protested. Her body was tired—aching, bruised, still healing—but her eyes were clear, burning with resolve. “They’re still out there,” she continued. “Si-woo. Tyler. All of them. And Jiyoo’s putting himself in danger while I’m lying here like I’m useless.”
“You’re not useless,” Sally said firmly. “You were assaulted, you passed out, and you’re injured.”
Even in pain, even barely standing, Valerie refused to remain powerless.
Sally stepped in front of her voice firm. “Valerie, stop. Kain and the rest of the Narrow Squad are already handling it. They told me themselves. You don’t have to carry this anymore.”
Valerie paused for only a second.
Then she shook her head.
“They’ve been saying that since the beginning,” she replied quietly. “And every time I listen, someone else gets hurt.”
She reached for her jacket, slipping it on carefully over her injured arm. Her movements were controlled, deliberate. From the inner lining, she checked what she had tucked away—small, practical tools hidden in the seams and pockets. Nothing flashy. Just what she knew how to use.
Sally’s eyes widened. “Valerie—”
“I’m not reckless,” Valerie said, meeting her gaze. “I show up prepared. That’s the difference.”
She secured the last item and zipped the jacket halfway, her jaw set. “This ends when the truth ends. And I won’t sit in a bed pretending I’m safe while everyone else risks their lives for me.”
Sally’s shoulders sagged as she realized there was no stopping her. “You’re stubborn,” she muttered.
Valerie gave a faint, humorless smile. “I had to be. It’s the only reason I’m still here.”
Sally stepped aside reluctantly. “Then promise me one thing.”
Valerie looked back. “What?”
“Come back alive.”
Valerie hesitated—then nodded once. “I will.”
And with that, she moved toward the door, injured but unbroken, carrying the weight of unfinished battles with every step. She didn’t hesitate as she dashed out of the hospital room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway despite the ache screaming through her body.
“Valerie!” Sally called after her, stopping just outside the door.
Valerie didn’t turn back.
Sally let out a long, defeated sigh, rubbing her temples. “Unbelievable… you’re impossible,” she muttered, though worry softened her voice. She glanced back into the room, then toward the nurse and doctor approaching with concerned expressions. “She’s stubborn,” she said, offering a tired smile. “But she’s conscious, stable, and already made up her mind.”
The doctor hesitated. “She really left?”
Sally nodded. “Yeah. She’s good to go.”
The nurse scribbled something onto the chart. “We’ll mark her as discharged, then.”
Sally watched the hallway for a moment longer, hoping—just for a second—that Valerie would come back. When she didn’t, Sally exhaled slowly.
“Please be careful,” she whispered under her breath, already knowing Valerie wouldn’t hear it—but hoping it would somehow reach her anyway.
Somewhere in the city of Seoul is a hooded man crossing the streets with a frown look on his face. Henry never meant to betray the Narrow Squad. That was the thought that haunted him most—because intent didn’t change the outcome.
From the outside, he looked composed, reliable, another trusted member moving in sync with the rest of them. Inside, fear gnawed relentlessly at his chest. Every vibration of his phone felt like a threat. Every quiet moment left room for the memories Si-woo had weaponized against him.
The blackmail had begun subtly. A message. A call. Then proof—documents, recordings, altered just enough to be devastating. The CEOs stood behind it, the agency executives smiling while offering him choices that were never really choices at all.
Cooperate—or lose everything.
Si-woo had never raised his voice. He didn’t have to. He spoke with certainty, reminding Henry how easily reputations could be erased, how quickly lives could be dismantled.
So Henry complied.
He gave them details in fragments. Schedules. Locations. Patterns. He told himself it was harmless, that no one would get seriously hurt. But the Narrow Squad began walking into danger more often, their operations compromised in ways too precise to be coincidence.
Each close call left Henry sick with guilt.
He watched them trust him—Luke’s easy confidence, Jason’s quiet reliance, Beom’s sharp glances that lingered just a second too long. Henry learned how to smile through it, how to speak normally while feeling like his chest might collapse in on itself.
Si-woo sensed every moment of hesitation.
“You’re already tied to this,” he reminded Henry calmly. “If they fall, you fall with them.”
Henry understood then that there was no clean exit. Only survival.
He chose himself.
And that choice followed him like a shadow.
Now Valerie was hurt. The situation had spiraled beyond control. And the Narrow Squad was starting to connect the dots, their questions sharpening, their silence growing heavier.
Henry felt the end approaching.
When the truth finally surfaced, explanations wouldn’t matter. Fear wouldn’t matter. Blackmail wouldn’t matter.
All they would see was betrayal.
And Henry would have to live with the fact that when he was tested—when loyalty mattered most—he broke.
Aside from everything unfolding around him, the house of the Lockhart family was growing increasingly restless.
Mr. and Mrs. Lockhart had tried calling Valerie again and again with voice messages left unanswered, texts marked as delivered but never read. Each unanswered ring tightened the knot in Mrs. Lockhart’s chest, while Mr. Lockhart paced the length of the living room, phone clenched in his hand.
“She would’ve called by now,” Mrs. Lockhart said quietly. “Something’s wrong.”
Before he could respond, the phone rang.
Sally’s name flashed across the screen.
Mrs. Lockhart answered immediately. “Sally?”
There was a pause—just long enough to raise an alarm.
“She’s alive,” Sally said quickly, as if she already knew what they were thinking. “She’s injured, but she’s safe.”
Mrs. Lockhart’s knees nearly gave out as she exhaled in relief. Mr. Lockhart stopped pacing, moving closer, his expression tense.
“Why isn’t she answering us?” he asked, his voice tight.
“She doesn’t want you involved,” Sally admitted softly. “Not because she doesn’t love you—because she does. She just… doesn’t want you dragged into what’s happening.”
Silence settled on the line.
Mrs. Lockhart closed her eyes, gripping the phone. “Please tell her,” she whispered, “that no matter what she’s facing, she doesn’t have to do it alone.”
“I will,” Sally promised. “I swear.”
When the call ended, the house felt unbearably quiet.
Mr. Lockhart rested a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “She’s stronger than she knows.”
Mrs. Lockhart nodded, though her eyes were wet. “She shouldn’t have to be.”
In the middle of danger and unfinished truths, Valerie remained just out of reach—but for the first time in hours, her parents knew she was still breathing.
After the call ended, the weight of the silence settled heavily over the Lockhart home.
Mrs. Lockhart lowered the phone slowly, her hands trembling. “We didn’t listen to her,” she said, her voice breaking. “All those times she tried to explain… we thought we knew better.”
Mr. Lockhart sank into a chair, staring at the floor. The confidence he carried in boardrooms and negotiations was gone, replaced by something raw and human. “We were so focused on protecting our name, our expectations,” he admitted. “We forgot to protect our daughter.”
Memories surfaced—Valerie standing in the doorway, asking for understanding. Her anger misread as rebellion. Her silence mistaken for distance rather than pain.
“I thought she was just being difficult,” Mrs. Lockhart whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I never asked her why she was hurting.”
Mr. Lockhart clenched his fists. “We let our misunderstandings become neglect. And now she’s facing things we should’ve shielded her from.”
They sat together in quiet regret, neither trying to comfort the other with excuses. There was none that mattered anymore.
“If she comes home,” Mrs. Lockhart said softly, “I won’t tell her what she should be. I’ll just listen.”
Mr. Lockhart nodded. “And I’ll apologize. Not as a father who thinks he was right—but as one who failed and wants to make it right.”
For the first time in years, they weren’t thinking about reputation or control.
They were thinking about their daughter—and the distance they had helped create.
Inside the HYBE building, the dance studio was already alive with movement—music echoing off mirrored walls, shoes striking the floor in sharp, synchronized beats. K-East had begun their rehearsal on schedule.
Ryung arrived late.
The studio door slid open, and for a brief moment, the choreography faltered. A few heads turned in surprise, eyes flicking toward him as he stepped inside, hoodie pulled low, expression unreadable.
But the shock didn’t last long.
Jaesang didn’t say anything. Neither did Hwan or Joon-wo. Jiyoo, Min-Jun, and Taeyun merely glanced at Ryung’s reflection in the mirror before refocusing on the routine. They already knew the truth—the nights, the secrets, the weight Ryung carried alone.
And they had chosen silence.
Not because they didn’t care—but because they understood what exposure would do. Chaos. Scandal. A fracture they might never recover from.
Ryung gave a short nod in apology and took his place without a word.
The choreographer clapped his hands sharply. “Positions. From the top.”
Music surged back to life, drowning out everything unsaid. Bodies moved in practiced precision, sweat and effort replacing conversation. Ryung danced like nothing was wrong, like he hadn’t spent the night unraveling memories better left buried.
The others followed in step, matching him beat for beat.
Whatever the truth was, whatever storm threatened beneath the surface—they would deal with it later.
For now, they danced and the mirrors reflected seven figures moving as one, hiding fractures no audience was ever meant to see.
The Narrow Squad moved with quiet efficiency inside their hidden base—checking weapons, securing gear, exchanging brief nods instead of words. The air was thick with anticipation. This next move would be dangerous, and everyone knew it.
Kain adjusted his gloves. “Once we move, there’s no turning back.”
Luke slung his gear over his shoulder. “Then let’s end it.”
They headed toward the exit, the large metal doors slowly rolling open to reveal the dimly lit driveway outside.
And then, everyone suddenly froze.
Standing at the center of the driveway was Valerie.
Bandages wrapped around her arm and knuckles, jacket zipped halfway, eyes steady despite the exhaustion etched into her face. She shouldn’t have been standing—shouldn’t have even been out of bed.
“Valerie?!” Kain snapped. “What are you doing here?”
Jason swore under his breath. “You’re injured.”
Bryan took a step forward, worry flashing across his face. “You were supposed to be resting.”
Valerie didn’t flinch. “I’m done waiting.”
Kain’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t your fight.”
She met his gaze without hesitation. “It became my fight the moment Si-woo and the others decided my life was collateral.”
Silence fell heavy between them and Luke glanced at her bandages, then back at her face. “If you collapse out there—”
Sunghoon added in. “They will take advantage of you.”
“I won’t,” Valerie cut in. “And if I do, at least it’ll be because I chose to stand.”
The squad exchanged looks—frustration, concern, reluctant understanding all tangled together.
Kain exhaled slowly and insisted. “You’re impossible.”
Valerie’s lips curved faintly. “I’ve been told.”
The tension didn’t disappear—but neither did she.
And as the engine of the lead vehicle rumbled to life, the Narrow Squad realized something unsettling and inevitable:
Valerie wasn’t asking for permission since she was already in the war and no one was able to hold her back this time.
"First..." she took a pause until she thought of the person in her mind. She opened her eyes full of intensity and said without any hesitation or nervousness in her voice.
....
....
"We are going to visit Tyler."152Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUGvb6vSc2u
and then Add to home screen.