𝓟𝓼𝔂𝓬𝓱𝓸 (Psycho) || •PJM• ✔️

𝓔𝓼𝓬𝓪𝓹𝓮

Escape. That's the top priority.

Jimin pants, sucking in all the stale air around him, the pounding on the glass filling his ears. There are multiple exits throughout the house, but how the fuck did they know he was here? How did they find him? He moved for this specific reason: not to be found. Fate seems to be against him anymore.

The footsteps creaking against the wooden ground reverberates down the room, his hand reaching out to grab his pistol on his nightstand. This isn't the average invasion; there has to be at least a dozen in his house. 

With no other options, he crawls out from under his bed, taking the pistol and clicking off the safety. He goes over to the door and presses his back against the wall. His breathing goes quiet as he snaps back into listening mode, hearing the tiniest creaks not too far away. They're close now; he doesn't have much longer. It's only a matter of time until they find him, and he needs to get out of here fast.

He places the pistol in the waistband of his pants, going over to his bedroom's window and cranking it open. It makes a lot of noise, but there's not much he can do about that. 

"In there! The bedroom!" a male voice yells from outside. Jimin gulps, hoisting himself out of the window. Shit, he's on the second story. This is gonna hurt like a bitch.

He stares down at it, then sighs. He'll break his bones, and he can't afford that right now. Fight it is. Jimin climbs back inside, whipping around and preparing for them to open the door. Or... wait, he has a better idea.

Jimin quietly gets back under the bed, covering his mouth with his hand to mask his soft breaths. After another few seconds, the door opens, a couple of shoes coming into Jimin's view. The bed is pretty low (thank God Jimin's skinny), so the visibility is bad, but he can see enough.

"Dammit, that bastard jumped, didn't he?" a male voice says. "Get a team on the ground. The rest of you sweep the house to make sure he doesn't come back for anything." 

Jimin fights as hard as he can to keep his breathing silent, staying completely still while lying under the bed.

His heart is beating so fast despite how many times he's been in deadly situations before. However, his heart isn't beating for him. It's beating for his love. Where is she? Is she okay? He already silenced his phone in case something like this happens, but he doesn't want to be left in the dark for much longer.

The men move deeper in the room, observing the window. There's four of them in here. Not a big deal if Jimin gets the jump on them, but he's literally under a bed. It's gonna be pretty damn hard to get the jump on them. Fearing the worst, Jimin pulls out his phone, gritting his teeth as he turns down the brightness and brings up the familiar contact.

He lets out a long sigh, knowing he can't hold out any longer. He sends the address to the right man, shutting off his phone and sliding it away. They can't find out what he's done, otherwise it'll be bad for her. Jimin watches as the men check the closet, then the master bathroom, then they come over to the bed.

Jimin props his elbows up, holding the pistol. As soon as someone ducks down to check, he blows a hole through their skull, blood shooting out and staining the walls. At the sound of shouts and panic, Jimin jumps out from under the bed on the other side, shooting five more times, but only downing one more man.

He runs out of the room, amazed they haven't fired back yet. 

What are they waiting for? 

Jimin heaves and rushes down the stairs toward the front door. However, before he can reach it, he gets the wind knocked out of him. He yelps in pain as someone tackles him to the ground.

A struggle breaks out with Jimin attempting to claw the man's eyes out, but the person holding him weighs a good hundred pounds more than him, and biology takes over the fight.

It's safe to say Jimin loses the fight. 

"What the fuck do you want from me!" Jimin shouts, trying to squirm out of his tight hold. It doesn't work. 

"Tell the boss we got him and we're on our way," a man not too far away says. 

"Right away, sir," another replies, bowing before pulling out his phone.

There's a few seconds of silence as the man holding Jimin forces him to stand, kicking the pistol away and holding his hands behind his back. Jimin winces at his rough nature, his wrists sore from both the grasp and the handcuff pulling he's been doing these past few days.

"Yes sir, we have Mr. Park." There's a beat of quiet. "Right away, sir." Again, quiet. "We're on our way to you, sir. ETA ten minutes." Jimin looks at the man who comes closer, this one not as tall as the one holding him. "Meeting Mr. Park," the man says with a small smirk. 

"Do I know you?" Jimin asks in a hiss.

He chuckles. "No, but everyone knows you. The most infamous killer in New York. Turning you in would bring me millions, but I have a job to do." 

Jimin smirks. "Might as well turn me in, I always break out within a week anyway. Maximum security prison my ass." 

The man returns the smirk, then, he punches Jimin right in the face. Jimin coughs, spitting out blood from the hard blow. 

"If I were you, I'd keep your mouth shut, or else you and your little girlfriend are dead." 

Jimin's eyes widen as the men start dragging him away. "Y/n?! Leave her the fuck alone! I'll fucking kill you if you touch her!" he screams, writhing against the one holding him. "I'll fucking kill you!" 

But no matter what he does or says, he still gets dragged away.