Mafia's Caretaker; The Devil's Cure

Bonus; Utterly Defeated.

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Expensive shoes clicking sharply against the tile floor of the familiar corridor as the Mafia Jeon Jungkook paced the length of the corridor like a caged animal. His usual icy composure was nowhere to be found.

His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, running through his hair every few seconds before he resumed his furious pacing. His heart was pounding in his chest as if it just fall out any moment.

Jeon Jungkook was not a man prone to fear.

He had faced bullets, betrayal, and bloodshed without flinching. He had stared into the eyes of men who wanted him dead and had come out victorious.

But tonight?

Tonight, he was terrified.

He felt stifled. The air around him was too thick, his shirt suddenly too tight against his chest. He pulled at his collar, trying to breathe through the suffocating weight pressing down on him.

Behind the closed doors, his wife screamed.

Jungkook stopped dead in his tracks.

A sharp, gut-wrenching cry of pain torethrough the hallway, wrapping around his throat like a noose. His entire body locked up. A cold sweat broke out at the back of his neck, his fingers twitching uselessly by his sides.

His mind was a mess.

What if something went wrong?
What if she was in danger?
What if-

His heart slammed against his ribs, an erratic, unstoppable rhythm. He tried to calm himself, inhaling sharply, but the air felt thin, like he wasn't getting enough of it. His palms felt clammy, a rare betrayal of his iron control, and he rubbed them against his pants before clenching them into fists again.

Another scream. Louder.

Jungkook's body reacted instantly. No he can't do this anymore. He need to see his wife, right now. His feet were moving before he could think, storming toward the door-

"Boss." A hand caught his arm.

Jeon Jungkook turned so fast that Taehyung instinctively stepped back, his brows raising slightly. The sheer intensity in Jungkook's eyes was terrifying-raw panic barely restrained under his cold, furious exterior.

"Taehyung, don't." His voice was rough, dangerous, barely holding back the urge to tear through anything in his way.

"Boss, I know you're worried, but you need to wait," Taehyung reasoned, standing his ground. "The doctors know what they're doing."

Jungkook let out a sharp exhale, his jaw clenching so tight it ached. "I don't care." His voice was low, trembling slightly in a way that had nothing to do with fear-but everything to do with the utter helplessness clawing at his chest.

His wife was behind those doors, screaming.

He had been shot, stabbed, and beaten within an inch of his life. But never-never-had he felt this level of gut-wrenching anxiety.

Another scream rang out, louder, more agonizing.

Jungkook snapped.

His body moved before his mind could catch up, lunging toward the door-

"Taeyung, don't test my patience."

Taehyung blocked him, standing firm.

Jungkook's eyes darkened, his nostrils flaring. "Move."