mafia's daughter || k.th

prologue

"Bad bitches get riches"

He sat across officer kim who grumbled at the pictures of a fellow officer with a hole in his head, bullet penetrated deep into the skull. shit happens.

"hyung.." the young officer spoke quite anxiously, lips parted gently, then they were purses a second later. the whole office filled itself with noisy phone calls and tension.

"someone keeps killing our men! and for what reason? it doesnt make any sense." officer kim couldnt put his pieces together, it drove him insane. he slammed his fist down onto the desk, the pencil rolling near the edge of the wooden desk,

"namjoon hyung, can you calm down for a second." the young officer, taehyung counseled looking around to bow respectfully to those in the office.

namjoon, rubbed his face with large hands, eyes shutting for a second before proceeding to look back at the pictures on the computer screen. he could only rub his temples to alleviate the stress in his mind, yet not even that helped a lot

taehyung rolled his eyes, diverting to the screen of the other officer. the dead officer was a benevolent father, had a family of four, brought donuts to work. and poof, gone just like that. like a feather landing straight into the wrath of cold icy beach waves

"someone's holding a grudge against us, and i wanna know what for, and why." joon crossed his arms, eyebrows furrowed, eyes staring straight at what appears to be a folder filled with some death records of previous coworkers. detectives, cops of higher ranks.

"i know hyung, im working on the case with seokjin hyung right now and im trying my best to decipher any type of evidence obtained." countless pictures of dead officers, but they all had one thing in common. they were all shot in the head, with a red bullet, tip to base. sure there were red bullets, but these types of bullets were filled with a deadly poison.

fucking snake venom

taehyung pursed his lips, worried for his brother. its been weeks since the first attack, now its the fifth. one by one these officers are dying. namjoon seemed too afraid, afraid of imagining his own brothers next.

•

you walked towards the young tied up man, his body trembling in fear. eyes full of helplessness, his whimpers were loud and clear.

"please! i didnt do anything, i swear!" he begged, he cried and cried, eyes swollen. you tilted your head, your red gloss shimmering in dim light that the fluorescent light hung above his head gave off.

you never covered your face when killing someone. you wanted those in the arms of death to see your face before they die. a psychopath, they called you, but you only liked blood shed, the color.

you were a fucked up person, but that's just how you were raised. fucked up.

you slowly strutted to the man, straddling his lap, his body felt like fire. you leaned in, lips nearly caressing his ear.

"you know i hate when people lie to me, right?" you whispered humming softly, hands caressing his neck. you looked straight into his eyes, your gun in your left hand, sliding up his chest

you kissed the tip of your gun, leaving your mark before kissing his cheek after with a sadistic smirk.

"im not lying.." he choked out

"youre not lying?" your brows furrowed, giving him a sorrow look

"i didnt steal the money.. i never even touched it. it's not me you're looking for."

you looked away, tsking.

"that's funny. i never said anything about money." you tilted your head once more, eyes glued to your victim. he could only shut his mouth in fear.

you stood up, eyes looking down at the frightened man, youre just about tired of lies. tired of the endless bullshit being thrown your way for no absolute fucking reason but you always enjoyed the view of a prey within your grasp.

"ill give you anything, anything you want! please.. just dont kill me." and there it was again, the begging. you couldnt help but throw your head back in annoyance, a cocky grin plastered on your lips

leaning down once again, in his ear, you whispered all too soothingly, "you cant give anything to someone who has everything."

and then you shot him in the head. his blood splattering all over the place. drenching the floor as his head oozed out his liquid substance. something about the shade of blood gets you heated. you love the color so much.

you love the smell of the iron; the look of the dead; the shade of the blood. imagining bodies piled up as your throne, the shade of red glossed onto your lips followed by a rather small streak of blood that you slowly licked off.

you were a case, unsolved.