Unspoken Agreement || J.JK

ғɪᴠᴇ

Now all my emotions are all 'cause of you

―⋆ ⭒⭒⭒ ⋆―

Same case scenario.

I'm dragged into the house not even a minute later, the furious man harshly holding onto my wrist and leading the way.

What's with him dragging me around every chance he gets.

We stop in the living room, eyes on us once more. I'm being traumatised and tormented and no one's even bothered about it.

"Listen," Jungkook begins in a low tone, alerting what I'm guessing are his family members and I feel uncomfortable under their judgemental gazes that turn to look. This feels like he's about to announce my death.

"From today on, she's going to be locked up. Nobody's allowed to go inside the room or let her out."

My face at the given moment probably looks just as disgusted as if I'd be looking at someone stuffing their mouth with burgers.

With a harsh sigh, I lean on the wall behind me, letting my hand be gripped in his hold. My eyes close to hope for better days and my free hand rests on my hip.

"You heard him." The elderly woman speaks up, turning her gaze to the others with a certain smug look plastered on her face. A thought crosses my head; I definitely don't like her.

My legs nearly lose balance once I'm dragged up the stairs, landing in the same place I tried to get away from.

"That wasn't the smartest idea, you know?" Jungkook says and I stay silent, standing in front of his bulky figure.

He smothers a hand over his face, keeping the other one on his hip as he walks around in frustration, turning to me suddenly.

"Listen, you won't leave this place until I say so. You won't be making calls or try to get associated with anyone." His conditions are too much.

My blood boils at his controlled behaviour, the look of hatred visible in my eyes. I feel a little more courageous, solely because of the fact that he plans to marry me, so maybe I'm not getting a bullet in my head yet.

"What, are you even going to tell me when to breathe?" I spit back, anger growing inside of me and we're way into each other's personal spaces by now, nose-to-nose as we glare at one another.

"Yes." He says lowly and I scoff out, turning in desperation. I don't want to believe this is actually happening to me.

"Jungkook? What is going on?" A voice asks from the doorway and there's two women standing there, probably as confused as I am.

One looks younger than me, while the other I've seen before in the living room. She called Jungkook a 'darling', which can only mean one thing. She's his mother.

Jungkook turns to look at both, tilting his head ever so slightly in his threatening state.
"Get out." He says, literally slamming the door in their faces as he turns his attention to me again.

"I'm not staying here with you." I say angrily.

"You don't have a say in it." He shots right back at me.

"I want my phone back."

He took my bag when we left my house and I know he still has it.

"I don't care about what you want. I'm bringing you some clothes later and that's it. Don't even think about leaving again." He glares as I regain my composture, raising my brow at him, but he's already out on the hallway and locking me inside.

I look over the balcony, seeing guards everywhere. I'm trapped.

That stupid fuck.

Now what?

If he can lock me up against my will, I can do something against his will too. There's just one little problem. Anything can cost me my life, but nothing will happen to him. I can't call the police. Not even my best friend.

My legs bring me to the black nightstand and I open the first drawer in anticipation.

A gun.

Typical.

I pick it up, holding it as far away from the trigger as possible, a side of me feeling as if it's going to explode in my hand. I put it on the bed and crouch down. There's a few more shotguns laying around, a bunch of weapons—some I'm seeing for the first time.

None of this can help me escape.

I don't know how to pick locks and I'm definitely not murdering all the men outside.

I continue looking around, opening the closet and my eyes set on a line of clothes neatly sitting in place. Every single piece is black. What a grim reaper.

I take out a sweater and swing it over my shoulder.

There's no other phones anywhere. Not even a laptop.

But if I want to get out of here, I need to stay patient. Maybe gaining his trust can be a key to freedom.

For the next few hours I can only stare into space, look outside and keep my own company. I have a week before someone figures out that I'm missing and that something isn't right. Even if I don't manage to call for help, the reassurance is there. I know someone is going to look for me at least.

I hear footsteps coming up the steps. I look at Jungkook walking in, but I keep my position on the couch, knees up to my chest. He comes closer and throws a bag on the couch beside me.

He eyes me suspiciously, seeing his sweater on my lap. He doesn't say anything for a long time. I watch him walk toward the bed, keeping his expression unreadable.

"You were sniffing around." He picks up the gun from his bed and puts it back into the drawer.

"Planning to kill me?" He smirks, tone mocking. When I don't satisfy him with an answer, he stops in front of me again.

"What were you doing with my stuff?" He questions, jerking his head up.

"Nothing." I watch him still, eyes cold as the leather. My feet move to the floor again and I stand up, his sweater in my grasp.

He inches closer, trying to take it out of my hands, but my grip tightens.

At the back of my mind, I keep repeating to myself; You're playing with fire, he has a damn gun.

"I got cold." I raise a brow. "The least you can do is let me have it if I'm stuck here for a while."

His chest vibrates as he lets out a chuckle. "Your stuff is over there. Use it." He pulls on the sweater, and I try to take it back. We find ourselves pulling each at one hem and suddenly my eyes narrow and I stop.

He stares back, cautiously, as if trying to figure out my next move. I know for a fact that he didn't lock the door, yet I don't aim towards it. Suddenly, I harshly pull at the end of the sleeve, my sudden strength taking him aback and he falls on top of me on the bed.

A ripped sweater in my hands.

Well shit.