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

82. Hunt.

The night reeked of smoke, sweat, and sin.

I stood at the threshold of Harland’s underground world, a place disguised as a derelict opera house, but inside? It was hell in velvet curtains. Crystal chandeliers swung above while men in tuxedos and women draped in blood-diamond necklaces whispered behind their glasses of champagne. But the beauty was only a mask—behind every elegant smile was a predator, a buyer, a monster.

And I was the worst of them all.

I adjusted my cufflinks, black suit pressed to perfection. My hair slicked back, my jaw sharp under the low golden light. To everyone here, I was just another high-profile guest with pockets deep enough to buy flesh and guns. They didn’t know they had just let death walk through their doors.

Beside me, Kian Fletcher moved with irritating ease, his British arrogance fitting right in with the scum here. He leaned close, whispering, “Remember—Harland trusts me. Follow my lead, don’t blow your cover, and for God’s sake, don’t strangle anyone before we get inside.”

I gave him a side glance, my voice low and edged. “Don’t tell me what to do, Fletcher. If I smell even a hint of my kids in this place, I’ll paint these walls with blood.”

He smirked like he found that amusing. “Understood.”

The guards at the entrance eyed us suspiciously—massive men with guns strapped across their chests. I let my gaze slide over them like they were already corpses. Kian handed over two embossed invitations. The guard checked them, then stepped aside.

We walked in.

The auction floor was worse than I imagined. Women lined the stage in chains, men shackled at the ankles, exotic weapons displayed like art. People in masks raised numbered paddles casually, as if buying a soul was no different than buying wine.

My fists curled. I wanted to pull my gun and drop every single bastard in this room. But I couldn’t—not yet. My children came first.

Kian murmured, “Harland’s office is upstairs. He won’t have the twins here—not with so many eyes—but his files will. If they’re in his custody, their location will be there.”

I didn’t even look at him. My eyes were scanning, sharp and restless, devouring every corner of the room. “Then we go upstairs.”

“Not so fast,” Kian cautioned. “We can’t just walk past his guards. We need a distraction.”

My lips curved into something dark. “Distractions are easy.”

I strode forward, ignoring Kian’s hissed protest. People turned to look as I approached the auctioneer—an old, greasy man who was parading a terrified girl across the stage. She couldn’t have been older than fifteen. My rage spiked, a volcanic eruption barely kept under control.

“Sold to the gentleman in the back for three million!” the auctioneer announced.

Before the hammer fell, I snatched it out of his hand and snapped it in two with a loud crack that echoed through the room. Gasps filled the hall. Guns shifted.

All eyes were on me now. Perfect.

The auctioneer sputtered, “S-sir, this is highly irregular—”

“Shut the fuck up,” I growled, my voice slicing through the silence. “This isn’t an auction. This is a circus run by rats. And I don’t like rats.”

Tension thickened instantly. Guards raised their weapons, guests murmured nervously. Kian muttered under his breath, “For fuck’s sake, Jungkook…”

But before the first trigger could be pulled, a voice rang out from the balcony above. Deep, commanding, arrogant.

“Let him speak.”