ɪɴᴋᴇᴅ ʙy ᴀ ᴍᴀꜰɪᴀ ᴍᴀɴ ( ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ ꜰꜰ )

chap 12

Y/n

"Stop the car," I yell, finally finding my voice. Everything has happened so fast.Ever since the first gunshot in the hotel room - the one jungkook fired, the bullet slamming into the guard's knee - all I've been able to think about is keeping Doggo safe.

Running across the fields, jumping into Jungkook's car,
speeding down the winding roads, and finally out into the countryside away from the city, all I've been able to contemplate is Doggo somehow getting hurt.

A stray bullet, a misplaced punch.

But now it's just Jungkook and me with the darkness all around us, his high beams cutting through the blackness. I cradle Doggo in my lap, holding him tightly, as though any second 's jungkook going to snatch him away.

Jungkook and I haven't spoken.

When he doesn't answer, I risk a glance over at him.

He looked like a businessman the first time we met.But now, in his dark clothes with his hair all messy from the mask, I can believe he's a criminal.

Something deep in my belly twists as though my core is screaming at me that he can't be a bad guy. I can't think of him that way, not when he's so tall and handsome and sending his protective signals, signals that tell me he's going to keep me safe, keep our whole family safe...when we have one.

Or if he's a bad guy, then he's mine. He belongs to me.

But none of that is true. I heard what he said in the warehouse.

"Did you hear me?" I snap. "Stop the car."

"That's not happening," he says bluntly. "Accept it."

"Stop the -."

"They saw my face. I have to get you someplace safe so I can arrange things, very fucking important things. Lives are at stake here, Y/n. I'm not stopping this car." He speaks in a blunt tone, his voice hard but not mean, not sadistic. It doesn't sound like he's taking me somewhere to hurt me as he claimed in the warehouse.

Hope dares to flutter in my chest.

"What are you going to do with me?" I whimper.

He growls out a sigh, glancing over at me. His hands squeeze the steering wheel tight, his knuckles the color of bone, tension etched in every part of him.

"That's the second time you've looked at me like that," he says.

"Like what?"

"Like you're scared of me. Like you think I'm going to hurt you. You even said it back there. You asked me not to hurt you."

Is he going to try and pull this crap and make me feel crazy, like I didn't hear him say it?"I was at the meeting," I hiss. "With Jackson. Where you told him -."

He sighs. "Oh, right."

"Yeah. So don't pretend like you want the best for me."

"None of that was true, Y/n. I had to think of a convincing reason why I might want to buy you. My consigliere came up with the reasoning, and I thought it made sense. It did make sense. Jackson agreed. But we underestimated how badly he wants you."

I sit back, staring at him, my head hurting. My legs ache from the run across the fields. "Are you telling the truth?"

He looks at me, his mouth tight, his eyes blazing with a thousand unsaid things. "I wanted to free you, Y/n. I'd never hurt you. The tattoo, the bird - it means something to me. I wasn't lying. I'm not lying." He turns back to the road, and we glide through the darkness for a time, saying nothing.