Vipers in the Lake | BTS Gang x Reader

2. The Angel and the Dancer

Everything happened in slow motion.

Ears ringing, vision blurring, you lay motionless on the floor. People were moving around you, running perhaps, but their motions were delayed and heavy. Pain shot up your arm from one of your wrists, pounding and fizzing. You could feel the blood pumping through your brain with a constant rhythm, and the awareness brought on a new wave of nausea. 

More gunshots cracked. Hundreds more, perhaps. 

Then, everything sped up.

Your ears still rang, but you could hear the shouting more clearly now. A lot of swear words, a lot of orders. Turning to look over your other shoulder, sunlight poured in through a huge gap in the wall, smouldering bricks and wood strewn around the surrounding floor. Something was on fire. And someone was out there.

Scratch that. Lots of someones were out there. 

A black SUV had pulled up round the side of the building, and the back door had been flung open. A group of men in all black, huge guns in hand clambered out, pointing to one another and back toward the inside of the building where you lay. It didn't seem as if the men holding you hostage had seen them yet. They seemed to be wearing some kind of vest - bulletproof, perhaps? They would need it, if the reloading of many guns behind you could foreshadow the events to come. Who are they? Police? You tried to rise onto your arms, tried to use your hands to push you up, but that searing pain tore through your arm once more. Your wrist. Was it broken? It was trapped beneath your body, you having landed on it when the explosion happened. Yes, it's probably broken.

The men from the van didn't come toward the gap in the wall. They veered off, going around the sides of the building and disappearing from sight. I need to get to them. They could help. But you simply could not rise onto your hand; the pain was too severe. A new wave of helplessness flushed over you. No, I won't cry. I've done enough crying. This is my chance t-

Rough, calloused hands grabbed you, yanking you up from the floor. A scream tore from your throat, frustration and anger and pure fear giving you back your voice. Whoever had grabbed you placed you roughly over their shoulder, thick arms tight around your back. Kicking your legs and wriggling, you tried to get him to drop you, to let go. Your wrist might be screwed, but your legs still sure as hell worked. 

"Stop it you little bitch!" Gruff voice guy tightened his grip, arm sliding around the back of your knees to immobilise you. You were held diagonally across his body, and well and truly stuck. He was moving, following a group of other men with guns held out in front of them.

"Do they know she's here?" Someone shouted.

"No, there's no way. They're here for something else. I don't know what. Just keep moving!"

 You cast a final glance back at the camera room. It was a total mess. Mens bodies lay under chunks of debris, their eyes sightless and skin pale. People had just died - right in front of you. And you had a feeling the death toll was only going to keep rising.

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Gruff voice and the other men were incredibly silent as they walked through the building. You took a good look around, seeing where you had been taken for the first time. A house - a completely normal looking house. But no furniture. No pictures on the wall. No side tables, no cupboards, no couch. A completely normal, but completely empty house. 

Mind flitting back to the men from the SUV, you tried again to scream out through the rope, ruining the silence that permeated the hall. You felt the switch in gruff voice's demeanour - he went from being on edge, watchful, to completely furious. Taking you by the shoulders and slamming you against the wall, you felt the bones of your wrist crumble once again, white flashing across your vision. Any more pain, and you might vomit all down gruff voice's leather jacket. He leant toward you, shaking your shoulders.