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The echo of footsteps reverberated through the cold, dimly lit room, each one ringing with the promise of more pain. Jungkook had taken the fall for Taehyung, offering himself up as the target to divert attention. The thundering beat of fists had left their mark—his eyes bruised, swollen, the skin around them darkening like a storm brewing on the horizon. His lip was split, the blood still fresh and bitter against his tongue. But despite the pain, there was a strange sense of relief in his chest. It had been him. It had always been him.
The air tasted metallic, thick with the scent of blood, sweat, and fear. Once the sadistic criminal, Bang Chan, finally stepped back, Jungkook's body gave way to a sharp, involuntary cough, sending a mixture of blood and spit dripping onto his lap. His breath came in ragged gasps, each inhale a battle of its own. But still, he kept his eyes shut, wishing for the pain to fade, wishing for the nightmare to end.
Bang Chan's voice broke through the haze of his suffering, smooth as silk yet sharp as a blade. "Who's next?" He said it as though the very question was a game, something to toy with. The fingers of his gloved hand brushed through Jungkook's tangled hair, a sickeningly soft gesture before it twisted into something much darker. He yanked Jungkook's head back, forcing the boy to stare at the ceiling. Jungkook's breath hitched, a primal instinct warning him of the cruelty that was to come.
But Bang Chan, like a predator tasting the blood of his prey, was already moving on. "I'm gonna need someone to decide who's dying first."
His words held no mercy as his fingers toyed with the gun strapped to his chest. It was clear that the weapon was nothing more than an extension of his malevolent presence. His eyes flicked from one gang member to another, each one shrinking under his gaze, as though he could smell their fear.
"How about you?" Bang Chan's voice was low, dripping with dark amusement as he stopped in front of Hoseok, his gaze lingering on the mechanic. Hoseok's usually bright eyes were now dull, hollow, filled with terror. Tears glistened at the corners of his eyes as he shook his head, his lips trembling.
Bang Chan chuckled, the sound smooth and taunting. "No? You're too much of a coward for this." His smirk widened as he stepped closer to the next victim, moving from Hoseok without another word.
"I want to see your reaction," he purred, his breath hot against the cold air. His fingers twirled the gun in his harness, almost as if deciding how to make this torment last. His eyes flickered over each man, daring them to make a move, daring them to defy him.
But it was Hoseok who couldn't hold back any longer. The sob tore through him like a violent storm, an involuntary response to the horror unfolding before him. He fought against the ropes that bound him, but they were unforgiving. His chest heaved, a desperate plea trapped in his throat, but there was no escape.
Bang Chan's eyes gleamed with sadistic delight. "Hmm, not you," he murmured, almost bored. He turned his attention to Namjoon next, the calm leader who was the epitome of strength in the face of chaos. The contrast between them was electric—Namjoon's stoic, unwavering gaze and Bang Chan's wicked, playful grin.
