danger

9: Shadows of Escape

♡

Minjun lay in the borrowed bed, feeling the oppressive heat of the thick sheets that clung to his damp skin. His fingers trembled as they nervously fidgeted together, a jittery symphony of fear and anxiety. Beneath the fabric, his young body burned with an internal panic, the weight of sweat clinging to him like a shroud, but still, he couldn't bring himself to discard it. He was paralyzed by the terror of what might happen if he moved, if he made the wrong choice.

The room was suffocating, but the fear of what lay beyond it was worse. These men—twisted, sick, and cruel—had destroyed everything in his life, and now they kept him here, captive, broken. His heart beat in erratic thumps, a reminder of the uncertainty that held him captive in a different way. The harsh reality of being orphaned at such a young age, abandoned by those who should've loved him, clawed at him from deep inside.

He needed to leave. He needed to get out of this nightmare. But where would he go? His mind searched for an escape, but the only answer was a pit of hopelessness.

The sound of the television from the next room blurred into a static hum, and Minjun forced himself to move. He had only been in this room for half an hour, and time was running out. He couldn't afford to wait any longer. He would have to be swift. Every second in this place felt like a lifetime.

His heart raced as he slowly slipped from the bed, his bare feet touching the cold wooden floor. The feel of it sent an involuntary shiver up his spine, but he forced his body to stay quiet, to stay still. His body was aching from the tension, every muscle trembling from the weight of his fear. He could hear his breathing, shallow and fast, but he focused, taking one slow step after another.

He reached for the door, his fingers curling around the handle with the care of someone handling explosives. Slowly, so slowly, he turned it, wincing at the tiniest creak of the hinges. He held his breath, hoping against hope that no one would hear.

The hallway was dark, and the house was still. At least, for the moment. He tiptoed, pressing himself close to the wall, his heart hammering in his chest as he approached the office. The leader of the gang, Namjoon, would be the key to everything. If anyone had the resources he needed, it was him. He needed money—enough for a four-hour taxi ride, enough to get as far away from this nightmare as possible.

The door to Namjoon's office was just ahead. Minjun's pulse quickened as he reached it, praying that it wouldn't be locked. His breath caught in his throat when the handle turned without resistance. The door creaked open, and he stepped inside, glancing around nervously. The room was quiet, but the tension in the air was palpable.

From the corner of his eye, Minjun noticed the flicker of movement on the couch—Namjoon, with Yoongi nestled beside him, both of them absorbed in a movie. The others were around, distracted, but Namjoon's presence was like a storm on the horizon. His sharp eyes were always watching, always alert.

He had to act fast. Minjun's fingers curled around the cash on the desk, feeling the cold paper burn against his skin. The thought of getting caught, of being punished, flitted through his mind, but it was drowned by the desperation to escape. He stuffed the money into his pockets, hands shaking, but as he did, the familiar voice of Yoongi cut through the silence.

"He's in my office," Namjoon's voice rang out, cool and measured, and Minjun froze, the color draining from his face.

Yoongi's sharp eyes flicked over to the office door, the realization dawning on him with a twisted amusement. "Ah, he's taking money," he chuckled.

Namjoon's voice remained calm, though there was a certain edge to it. "I told him he wouldn't get anywhere without money," he mused, and a dark chuckle rumbled through the room.

Minjun's breath caught as the sound of footsteps signaled the men's approach. His mind raced, the clock ticking down. He couldn't afford to get caught.

His legs felt heavy as he darted back toward the door, leaving it slightly ajar behind him. The soft rustle of fabric filled the quiet as he pressed himself against the walls, moving like a shadow toward his next destination—the room with the window. If he could get out through there, he'd have a chance.

Taehyung's voice echoed down the hallway, his whining tone making Minjun's stomach tighten. "So much for me being in there when he opened the door," Taehyung complained.

"Shut up," Namjoon snapped, his voice hard. "He's nearby."

Minjun's hand reached for the window handle, and a tiny thrill of hope surged within him as it gave way, the glass swinging open. The cool night air poured in, the view of the driveway offering him a brief glimpse of freedom. His heart pounded in his chest, but before he could react, the familiar, cold presence of Namjoon and Yoongi filled the room.

"What a disobedient little boy, huh?" Namjoon's voice was laced with amusement and danger. Minjun froze, every nerve in his body screaming at him to run, but he couldn't. 

He was trapped.