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

84. Tomas

The clue had come like a drop of blood in an ocean-faint, but enough to set my rage ablaze again.

Kian had spread the papers, photographs, and notes across the table of the safehouse we were holed up in. I stood there, leaning on the table with both hands, my head down, my chest burning. The twins' faces-my Aarohi, my Advait-flashed in my mind. Eight years old. Eight. And already trapped in a nightmare they never should have seen.

I clenched my jaw so hard I could feel the crack of pressure in my skull.

Kian's calm, collected British drawl cut through the silence.

"Jungkook," he said, tapping a grainy surveillance photo, "this man here-Junghyun's fixer-was seen near an abandoned textile mill two nights ago. Same van that matches the description from the school."

My vision narrowed to the picture. I didn't see the fixer. I saw chains. I saw a locked room. I saw Aarohi's teary face as she said, 'Papa, they locked me away from Advait.'

I slammed my fist onto the table. The papers scattered.

"I swear I'll skin him alive." My voice was low, dangerous. "Junghyun thinks he can touch what's mine? My children? He wants war-he'll choke on his own blood."

Kian didn't even flinch. He leaned back in his chair, studying me with that irritating patience of his.

"You lose control, you lose them," he said evenly. "Your rage is your sharpest weapon, Jungkook, but if you swing it blindly, it will cut your own throat."

I snapped my head toward him, my eyes burning. "You want me to stay calm when my daughter is crying for me?!"

Kian met my fury with ice. "I want you to think. You're not a grieving father right now. You're the devil they fear. You play that role, we win. You slip, we lose them."

I paced the room like a caged beast. My fists flexed, my body shaking with the urge to tear Junghyun apart right now, this second. But Kian's words drilled through the madness-cold, logical. I hated him for being right.

I stopped, turning back to him. "So what's the move?"

Kian pointed to the map spread out under the scattered files. He circled the mill, red ink bleeding into the paper.

"We surveil the site tonight. Minimal noise, maximum eyes. If the twins are there, we extract. If not-we leave Harland's fixer breathing just long enough to tell us where Junghyun has them. Either way, tomorrow morning... you'll have blood under your nails."

A humorless smirk twisted across my lips. "Blood under my nails?" I chuckled darkly, dragging my knife across the table's edge until sparks of wood split. "Kian... I'll drown him in it."

He sighed, muttering under his breath, "God help the man who hurt your family."

"No," I growled, straightening to my full height, the monster in me no longer chained.
"God can stay out of this. This is between me and Junghyun. And when I find him-" I slammed the knife into the map, right through the circle Kian had drawn-"I'll make him beg for hell."

Kian's lips quirked into the faintest grin. "Good. Now that's the Jungkook I came to work with."

I grabbed my gun, tucked it under my jacket, and stalked toward the door. My voice was steel.

"Let's go. My kids are waiting."

The night swallowed the mill whole-the old textile plant sat like a dead whale at the riverbank, its broken windows like jagged teeth. The moon was a sliver; light was a rumor. We moved through the shadow like two predators born to darkness-me, a breathing storm; Kian, the cold compass at my side.