danger

24: A Deadly Reckoning

♡

The world seemed to pause as the cacophony of gunfire erupted, drowning out everything else. The six men, their faces concealed behind dark balaclavas, stormed into the room with a chilling sense of purpose. They were a terrifying force—each armed with a deadly weapon, though one of them clutched a machete in his hand, his body a testament to the brutal punishment he'd already endured.

Minjun could barely breathe, the tremor in his chest betraying his terror as he watched the chaos unfold before him. The air was thick with the stench of gunpowder as bullets ripped through the room, leaving chaos in their wake. The walls shook with each shot, and the wild clatter of gunfire echoed like a relentless drumbeat.

The man with the machete, his injuries leaving him barely able to stand, shuffled silently into the shadows, his movements calculated and careful. He moved with an intelligence born of desperation, knowing that the fight was not his to win—but he could still play his part.

His eyes locked onto Namjoon, who was still bound to a chair. With barely a sound, the machete-wielder approached, slipping past the chaos as the bullets continued to fly. His hands worked quickly, methodical, untying the ropes that held Namjoon in place. A faint glint of metal—his own knife—was produced, and with a swift motion, he armed Namjoon, placing the blade in his hand like a sacred offering.

The masked man didn't hesitate. He reached the end of the line, pausing in front of Minjun, his presence a shield, blocking the teenager from harm. The carnage around them intensified, as one by one, the corrupt men dropped like flies, their blood staining the floor.

Bang Chan—their brazen leader—was the first to fall. A single bullet to the forehead, and he collapsed, his body a broken heap in a puddle of crimson. For a moment, there was stillness, the air heavy with disbelief.

The blond man, the one who had once pressed a gun to Minjun's head, charged forward with the reckless bravery of a cornered animal. But his courage was fleeting. Namjoon, now free and armed, reacted with deadly precision, stabbing the man seven times in the back before pushing him to the ground. But even as the thug crumpled, the assassin delivered the final blow—a bullet to the face—ensuring his death was swift and merciless.

The odds seemed impossible—five against thirteen—but the outcome was never in doubt. The battle was swift, brutal, and one-sided.

A round-faced boy, his eyes wide with fear, made the mistake of rushing at Minjun's bodyguard. He must have seen the limp in his step, thought him an easy target. But Minjun couldn't help but wonder at the absurdity of it. The boy was disarmed, no match for the seasoned warrior in front of him.

The masked man moved with brutal efficiency, a swift kick to the boy's groin silencing his attempt at a counterattack. But the boy wasn't done yet. Desperation filled his eyes as he slashed wildly with a blade, landing a hit in the man's chest. The wound was deep, but the thug didn't falter. In one smooth motion, the masked warrior ended the fight, plunging a knife into the boy's face, splitting it open with a sickening crunch.

Minjun could hardly look, the sight of the boy's bloodied face haunting him as he collapsed in a heap at their feet.

"Shit, that sucked," Taehyung muttered, his voice hoarse as he dropped his knife, massaging his throat. His face was pale, still raw from the suffocating grip of the man who had nearly choked him out. But before he could collect himself, his boyfriend—a younger, more innocent face—took him into his arms, holding him tightly in a moment of rare vulnerability.

"Are you okay?" Namjoon's voice was soft, but it held an undercurrent of concern. He turned to Seokjin, who gave him a weak smile, nodding, though it was clear he was still struggling.

Hoseok, ever the calming presence, moved to Jimin, kissing him gently on the temple before pressing down on his reopened wound. His hands worked quickly, pulling out supplies to patch him up, though the urgency in his actions was clear.

Then, Minjun's heart skipped a beat as the machete-wielding man in front of him turned to face him. Without a word, he removed his balaclava, revealing a face Minjun recognized all too well.

"Yoongi..." Minjun gasped, his voice filled with awe as a small grin tugged at his lips.

"Yoongi?" Namjoon's voice was filled with both confusion and recognition, and before Minjun could say another word, the room erupted with joy.

The masked men—his saviours—tore off their balaclavas, revealing familiar faces. Onew, Minho, Taemin, Key, and Jonghyun—each of them flashing a smile that betrayed the relief they felt in seeing their old friends again.

"It's nice seeing you boys again," Onew said with a smirk, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he gazed at the familiar faces. "Even if it's the second time we've had to save your asses."

The reunion was bittersweet, filled with the weight of what had just transpired. Jimin threw himself into Onew's arms, his laughter light despite the chaos around them. The others followed suit, exchanging brief hugs and relief-filled smiles as they caught their breath.

"How did you find us?" Jimin asked, his voice dry but laced with a hint of curiosity.

A wicked smile tugged at the corner of Yoongi's lips as he tilted his head. "These fuckers came knocking," he said, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Said something about an alliance meeting. When I realized you guys were gone for too long, I decided to track your phones. I mean, what kind of dumbasses toss their hostages' phones in the trash outside their complex?"

Minjun's heart pounded in his chest as the weight of their salvation settled in. They had survived—not just by chance, but because of the relentless, calculated effort of those who cared enough to save them.