Crimson Park

Chapter 31

Your foot tapped rapidly as Jungkook drove you home.

"We don't have to do this. We have the tape now. I'll just arrest Namjoon and we'll get a warrant for Minho."

"No. He had a weak moment - he didn't actually go through with it. He's a victim, Jungkook."

"I wouldn't go that far," he grumbled. "And it doesn't mean that he wouldn't have."

"If it was me they threatened, wouldn't you have done the same?"

"Please don't put it into perspective, Y/N," he whined. "I don't trust him and I wanna be pissed."

"Do it later. We need to get back and get Minho moved before he realises I'm gone."

"How much did you give him?"

"I don't know, like... one dose per drink... he had like three?"

"Jesus," he chuckled. "He's not gonna wake up for a month."

"I don't know, Jungkook, I've never drugged my boss before."

The car rolled on for another mile, your questionable drug calculation not quelling the worry in your stomach. Jungkook was intensely caught up in thought as well.

"I fucking hate this," he broke before mile two. "I don't trust him. Not after what he did."

"He was desperate—" you began, but Jungkook kept ranting.

"If he had said something, I would have helped him. I went to him for everything."

"He's in a tough spot."

He scoffed. "Since when did you start believing people for their word, Y/N?" his tone was accusing. "It took me fucking months for you to even speak to me."

"You really wanna go there?" your voice sharpened and warned him. His lips pressed into a firm line as he figured out it was best to avoid that path.

"We're the God damn police, and all we're doing is using you again. It's fucking sick."

"It's okay, Jungkook."

"It's not fucking okay!" he shouted. "Stop saying that."

You sucked your teeth as an anger flushed through your system. You knew he was only lashing out because he was frustrated and worried, but you didn't really fucking care at the moment.

"Pull over."

"What?"

"I said pull over!" you demanded. Jungkook did, pulling along the shoulder of the darkened back road. When he shifted the gear into park, you unclipped your seatbelt and turned to look him in the eye. "First of all, I did not survive a bullet so you could kill me in this shit coloured rust bucket you call a car. So calm the fuck down." He turned his head forward to the darkened shoulder, his nostrils flaring and muscles tensing. Last thing he wanted was to calm down. He wanted to fight with anyone right now, you were just the lucky one to be near him. But it was you, so he squeezed his knuckles white over the steering wheel instead. "Besides, I have standards. I will only die in an Italian car that costs at least five figures to rent."

He sniffed, and you knew he was fighting back a laugh.

"Secondly," you continued, "do not take your shit mood out on me."

"You do that to me all the time," he snarked.

"I told you, I'm not a fair person."

He huffed a laugh this time, but it wasn't particularly in amusement. "Is there a third lecture for me today, Ma'am?" he asked mockingly.