Chapter- 26

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Please, ignore mistakes

Third person p.o.v

Trigger warning- Mention of blood

The dimly lit room pulsated with the unsettling symphony of low grunts and the visceral impact of heavy punches. The source of the light was a lone bulb, casting its feeble glow, illuminating a scene of horror that sprawled before the eyes. Blood, thick and unrelenting, coated every surface of the room. Everything was covered in crimson, from the walls to the floor to the chairs, painting a macabre tableau of violence. Torture instruments lay strewn upon a nearby table, their purpose was clear yet chillingly intimate.

The air hung heavy with the metallic tang of blood, a suffocating miasma that threatened to overwhelm the senses of any sane person. Nine figures lay prone upon the floor, their forms twisted and broken. The thing that was even more horrific was-

 Their hands cruelly severed from their body, except for one fortunate soul who was bound to a chair with his head hung low.

The floor around bodies of the men seemed like a pool of blood, making the environment hard to breathe with it's stench. Bandages, haphazardly wrapped around the stumps where their hands once were, offered a grim attempt at stemming the endless flow. They existed in a liminal state, neither fully alive nor dead, merely breathing in the agony that enveloped them. 

From the left side of the room emanated the putrid scent of raw flesh, a foul odor that permeated the air. where four Pitbull dogs were visible. 

Who were voraciously munching on half-eaten remnants which were human hands once, like the hungry beasts.

In this chamber of nightmares, two words alone could describe the scene:- horrible and gross.

The grunts grew increasingly faint as the tormentor relentlessly pummeled the person tied to the chair. His condition deteriorated beyond recognition under the relentless assault, his body bruised up badly and bathed in blood. Each blow elicited a spurt of blood as he gasped for air, his strength waning with every punch. Finally, his eyes got droopy, and his shoulders slumped as unconsciousness embraced him.

"Damn it, this bastard passed out again, It's getting boring. Can't even hear their screams now, no fun at all" the tormentor, known as Jimin, cursed under his breath, delivering one last kick to the motionless figure. "Where is Jungkook Taehyung? He should have arrived by now. This is taking far too long."

"I'm not sure," Taehyung replied, as he glanced at his phone. "I messaged him hours ago. He should be on his way."

"I can't wait for this to be over," Jimin muttered with a sigh, his hands stained crimson as he moved towards the basin to cleanse himself of the blood that clung to his skin like a macabre badge of honor.


Soon, the creak of the heavy chamber door broke the silence, drawing all eyes to the entrance. A figure shrouded in black strode in, trailed by Jackson and his retinue, exuding an undeniable air of authority. The guards, both new arrivals and those already present, lowered their heads in deference to the commanding presence.

"Finally decided to grace us with your presence, JK," Taehyung remarked, his tone laced with mild exasperation as he addressed Jungkook's belated arrival.

Jungkook's raven-black hair was neatly arranged, framing his piercing ebony eyes that seemed to bore into the very soul of whoever met his gaze. Each step he took resonated with an ominous energy, marking his entrance with an unmistakable aura of power. As he surveyed the room, a smug smirk played at the corners of his lips, a testament to his satisfaction at the chaos he beheld, the scent of fear lingering in the air.

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