Trouble Tamer

34. Just Anything

As the guards returned to their post, they found Jungkook exactly as they’d left him: seemingly bound, his arms still pulled behind the chair, an expression of indifference on his face. They exchanged smirks, mocking his “helplessness.”

“Didn’t think a brat like you could be this easy to keep in check,” one of the guards scoffed, lifting his drink casually. “Not so tough without your fancy husband around, are you?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, his mouth twitching with irritation.

“Professionals, huh?” he muttered, glancing between the two men. “I just thought actual ‘trained’ criminals might have been harder to fool.”

“Fool?” the second guard barked a laugh.

“Five years in this business, blondie. Don’t think you’re the first pretty face we’ve had in that chair.”

“Right. Must be why you’re hiding your drinks like kids sneaking candy,” Jungkook replied with a smirk, watching them down their juice without a second thought.

As the minutes ticked by, their bickering began to fade into silence. Jungkook maintained his blank, almost bored expression, keeping a close watch on them, waiting. Gradually, their eyelids began to droop, their speech slurring as they fought against the sudden drowsiness overtaking them.

“Wh—what… did you…?” one guard muttered before collapsing, his drink slipping from his fingers and splashing onto the floor. The second guard followed moments later, both of them slumped in their chairs, snoring softly.

________________________________________________________________

The room was silent, eerily so.

Taehyung stared at the screen of his phone blankly, his heart hammering as the video of Jungkook played out in front of him. Bound and helpless, Jungkook was forced to look straight at the camera, defiant even in captivity. Taehyung’s knuckles tightened around the phone as he watched his husband’s face, noting every fear, every worry. That doesn't suits him. And he will make sure that the people who did this gets 10 times much worst treatment than this.

The message was clear: they wanted him to come, alone and desperate. But what they didn’t realize was how dangerous he was when they touched what was his.

Without a second thought, he turned to his desk drawer, reaching into the back and pulling out his gun, fingers brushing over the familiar metal. It was a licensed weapon, one he rarely, rarely used, but this time he would not be taking any chances. As he gripped it tightly, he felt the cold metal calm him—focusing his rage into something he could use.

Bogum and Jimin were out scouring the city for any clues, unaware that Taehyung was here, alone, watching this.

Good.

He didn’t need anyone getting in his way.

As he slipped the gun into his coat, he muttered to himself, “I’m coming for you, Jungkook.”

________________________________________________________________

Elsewhere, with Jungkook

Jungkook let out a sigh of relief as the two guards slumped forward, unconscious from the drinks he’d spiked earlier.

“Some professionals…” he muttered, rolling his eyes as he "freed" himself completely from the loose binds he had put to not raise any suspicion earlier.

It had been all too easy: slipping the pills into their drinks while they were busy seeing off their so called boss. He remembered his frustration at Jimin, accidentally slipping those pills into his own pocket instead of the trash, but now they’d turned out to be his best chance at escape.

He quickly rummaged through the guards' pockets, finding a cellphone. He switched it on, hands shaking slightly from both adrenaline and the pain from his earlier struggles.

He knew he was somewhere in the city, judging by the street noises that had filtered in whenever the guards opened the door. They hadn’t thought it necessary to keep heavy security, which he planned to use to his advantage. Quietly, he crept toward the exit, checking once over his shoulder to make sure the guards were still out cold, but he had to move fast; his kidnappers' boss would be back any moment.

Once outside, he ducked into a shadowy corner, reaching into his pocket for the phone he’d swiped. Unlocking it, he realized with frustration that he didn’t remember Taehyung’s number.

“Thanks to technology,” he muttered sarcastically, annoyed at himself for not memorizing it. Time was ticking, and the realization only intensified his frustration.

He needed to be quick.

The place was busy, but unknown. People looked gruff and angry, no less than some criminals themselves, which made the option to ask help out of the list.

Jungkook tried to think on his feet. His eyes scanned his surroundings, looking for anything—a street sign, landmark, anything that could help Taehyung locate him once he found a way to get in touch.

Just anything....