[ complete ] 𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀'𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄 || 𝐉.𝐉𝐊 𝐅𝐅

75. The Funeral Of A Brother.

Jungkook’s POV

The message came in at 2:37 a.m.

Encrypted.
Routed through five servers.
And from a ghost.

A string of coordinates followed by one chilling sentence:

“Come alone if you want answers.”

I didn’t sleep.
Didn’t even breathe properly.

By 3:10 a.m., I was in the matte black Mustang, my hand clenched so tight around the steering wheel the leather creaked under my grip. The city passed like a blur—just black roads and flickering streetlamps, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

This wasn’t just any breadcrumb. This was intentional.
A trap, maybe. But I had no choice.

Because they sent the message to my personal number.

And only a handful of people in this universe knew that number.
One of them was Aiden.

My brother in arms.
The one who saved my life more times than I could count.
The one who held Aarohi the day she was born and swore to protect her with his life.

I drove for an hour, through the edge of the city to the industrial wastelands—half-abandoned factories, rusting containers, the air thick with silence.

The location?
A shut-down steel mill.
Perfect for bloodshed.

As I stepped out of the car, gun holstered, every sense was on high alert. My boots echoed off cracked cement. No birds. No wind. Just shadows and silence.

I pushed the metal doors open.
The hinges groaned.
And what I saw—

Broke me.

There, under the weak overhead light…
Lying in a pool of his own blood…
Was Aiden.

My lungs froze.
My heart didn’t even beat.

He was slumped against a rusted beam, his body limp, shirt soaked red. Blood had painted the floor around him like a brutal canvas. His eyes were half-open—like he’d been trying to stay awake. Trying to hold on.

“No. No no no—” I rushed forward and dropped to my knees beside him. “Aiden?! AIDEN!”

I pressed my fingers to his throat.
Nothing.
Gone cold.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

His hand was stretched out… fingers dipped in blood…
And on the dirty concrete beside him, written in his dying strokes, were two words:

“School of…”

That was it.

The rest was a smear.

My breath caught in my chest. “School of… what?!”

I looked around frantically. No cameras. No paper. No phone. Just him. His body. And that message. I shook my head violently, heart pounding. “You knew something. You knew. Why didn’t you call me, dammit?!”

I pressed my forehead against his. “You were supposed to watch my back. Not die for me.”

A gust of wind blew through the broken wall, and I could almost hear his voice in my mind.

“I’ll take the bullet before I let anyone reach your family.”

God. He did.

I stood up, fists clenched so hard my knuckles were white. Rage. Grief. Guilt.

“Junghyun,” I whispered, voice shaking. “You just made this personal. Again.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, eyes still locked on Aiden’s lifeless form.