danger

14: The Tension Unveiled

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Minjun sat on Seokjin's lap, his grip tight, knuckles pale against the fabric of the older man's sweatshirt. His legs dangled helplessly, swaying just above Seokjin's thighs, his face a storm of sulk and dejection pressed snugly beneath Seokjin's arm, the warmth of the embrace doing little to soothe the gnawing dread clawing at his chest.

He couldn't bring himself to lift his head, not with the suffocating atmosphere closing in around them. The heavy silence of the dining room made his skin prickle with unease, the chill of intimidation lingering in the air, oppressive. His knee throbbed, the sting from the pain serving as a distracted comfort amidst the rising tension—though he couldn't quite block out the warning Namjoon had given him earlier about the four women seated in front of them.

Yoongi and Namjoon sat stiffly in their majestic dining chairs, one on either side of their eldest and their unwilling guest, their posture radiating a sharp readiness that made Minjun's pulse quicken. The weight of their silent watch was almost too much to bear.

"Your intentions are still unclear," Namjoon's voice was sharp as he opened a pristine box of cigarettes, his movements deliberate, calculated. "And if you can't state why you're here, then I will have to ask you to leave."

Minjun barely registered the sharp scent of tobacco as one of the women, a slender figure with washed-out lavender hair—a detail Minjun had noticed with an odd, fleeting appreciation earlier—cleared her throat. With a rustle, she produced a crumpled piece of paper from her blazer, unfolding it with a practiced air, her eyes glinting coldly in the dim light.

The sharp scent of Namjoon's exhaled smoke assaulted Minjun's senses, making his nose burn. Desperate to push the smell away, he buried his face deeper into Seokjin's armpit, wiggling slightly, his skin crawling from the overwhelming stench. The chef's body tensed in silent amusement, his warm hand wrapping around Minjun's waist in a small act of comfort, though it did little to ease the vice-like grip of anxiety constricting the teen's chest.

"Take a look at the printout," the woman said, her voice smooth but laced with something darker as she slid the paper across the table, its edges clattering softly against the wood before coming to rest under Namjoon's sleeve.

The woman's voice remained steady as she spoke, her words thick with gravity. "There's been a series of break-ins and murders in Seoul recently—four in a single day last week. They started in residential areas, moved to government officials' families, and most recently, gangs. SEVENTEEN and Big Bang were hit yesterday, and as far as we know, no one survived."

Namjoon's gaze darkened as he examined the list of names and addresses printed neatly on the sheet of paper, the colour draining from his face. "Alright, and what do you expect us to do with this?" he asked, his voice low, but the sharp edge of suspicion didn't escape Minjun's notice. "You looking for a place to hide?"

Yoongi's voice cut in next, his tone clipped, biting. "We don't exactly have a lot of space here."

Moonbyul, the leader of the women, looked utterly unfazed as she met their eyes, her fingers gliding absently through the knots of her violet hair, a slight sigh escaping her lips. She leaned forward, her smirk almost playful, yet there was something dangerous beneath it that made Minjun's blood run cold.

"No," she said, almost too casually, "nothing like that."

The atmosphere shifted, tension prickling in the air as her gaze flicked between the men, her words hanging heavy in the charged silence. The three other women behind her, with expressions unreadable, shared a knowing look, their faces devoid of fear, and yet something more chilling lurked beneath their stoic facades.

"We just wanted to warn you," Moonbyul's voice dripped with an eerie calmness, "your Wi-Fi's been down, Namjoon."

Seokjin's body stiffened, his grip on Minjun tightening as the words seemed to punch through the air, their suddenness rattling him to the core. Minjun could feel the shift in energy around them, the quiet hum of panic replacing what little stability they'd clung to.

The words didn't make sense at first, but then, as if on cue, Namjoon's phone buzzed urgently in his hand. His brow furrowed, the screen lighting up as he swiped it open with shaking fingers. The realization hit like a punch to the gut—Moonbyul's words were not some twisted joke.

Namjoon's eyes darkened, his voice dropping to a growl as he read the alarming notifications that flooded his phone.

'FRONT DOOR 1 HAS BEEN BREACHED'

'BEDROOM 3 HAS BEEN BREACHED'

'MOTION DETECTED; BACKDOOR'

'BEDROOM 6 HAS BEEN BREACHED'

'BATHROOM 2 HAS BEEN BREACHED'

"What the fuck," Jimin muttered, his voice cracking through the thick tension as he gave a snicker that didn't reach his eyes.

Namjoon's face drained of colour. He tossed his phone onto the table, the clatter of it ringing in the otherwise still room. Seokjin's heart sank at the noise, his body going rigid as the gravity of the situation set in. Minjun's fingers curled tighter around the fabric of Seokjin's hoodie, the dread creeping up his spine, suffocating him in waves.

"Answer me!" Namjoon's voice was harsh now, but it didn't seem to rattle the women in the slightest.

Wheein stood from her chair, a slow, deliberate movement as she walked closer, her grin unsettlingly calm as she met Namjoon's fierce gaze. "Us," she said, her words cutting through the growing panic, "and the lovely assassins just outside these doors, want our ranks back."

The words didn't register for a moment, the gravity of the situation slipping through the cracks of Minjun's panicked thoughts. It was only when Solar casually pulled a pistol from the back of her trousers, her stance coldly confident as she aimed it at Namjoon, that the weight of her words struck him.

Her finger rested dangerously close to the trigger.

The room erupted in chaos, the sharp sound of guns being drawn, the cold steel pointed at the women, the men shouting and moving with purpose. Minjun's heart pounded in his chest, the noise deafening in his ears as his body trembled under Seokjin's protective hold.

But Minjun, clinging to the only source of warmth he could trust in that moment, inhaled deeply, desperately, the scent of Seokjin's clothes soothing him in a fleeting attempt to silence the ringing fear that clouded his mind. His grip loosened on Seokjin's sweatshirt, if only for a moment, but the moment gunfire cracked through the air, the tension finally breaking, his hands clenched again, so tight that the skin on his palms split.