Is it wrong that the only thing—person you can think of right now is Jungkook?
Especially considering the fact that you're on your way to meet a psychopath, right now is not the time to be wondering if Jungkook found enough bandages to wrap around his bloody arm.
Jeez. Should you even be thinking of that bunny-faced brat?
Your thoughts are cut off by a click that cracks at your locked door. You jolt, watching the chauffleur turn to you timidly. "Here you are, miss," he says, nodding politely for your dismissal.
Now, under the coral light of the car, you realize that the chauffeur is in fact very young. Sixteen to eighteen at most.
You blush with embarrassment, remembering that you called him a dickass earlier. Clearly, he's too young to be affiliated with the Snakes. And he doesn't look Spanish at all. His features are pure Korean. "Thanks," you tell the boy, stepping out awkwardly.
Without a sound, the limo glides off, leaving you utterly and mercilessly alone. Only now do you feel the subdued fear start to boil in your gut, simmering through your bones as you gaze at the massive ballroom before you.
Yes. It's actually a damned ballroom.
Swear to god... if Sam called you here only to dance with you, then you won't leave until you dance the life outta him.
Heartbeat lumped in your throat, you enter through the small set of white staircases. You don't bother knocking, feeling your fingers tremble around the icy doorknob that you twist.
This isn't supposed to get scary yet. But given that there's no source of lights around, you're going to excuse your dramatic take on this.
Gulping, you enter, hearing the massive door groan wider. But before you could take another step in, you quickly go through your pathetic plan in your head.
First, give yourself over to Sam. Second, let Jihoon go. Third... well, there isn't really a third one. If you die, you die. But you'll try to shoot him before anything.
Best plan ever. Note the sarcasm.
Inhaling sharply, you push the door open wider, sliding your body to the side in case Sam tries to shoot you as a way of welcome.
When you don't hear a sound, you peek inside, taking in the dark-academia-themed ballroom with a bar in front of you.
An empty ballroom, devoid of any guards or hidden spies hung like monkeys over the chandeliers above your head. Somehow, this terrifies you more.
Did the chauffeur drop you off at the wrong location?
"Y/N," your dad's voice suddenly comes to your right, his voice sending vibrations beneath your feet. You snap around, watching Sam walk in boldly through the foyer.
Ah.
This motherfucker.
He's wearing an olive leather jacket over an off-white shirt that's tucked under his black ripped jeans. There's a cocky smile to his face that you ignore, eyes falling behind him in hopes to see your dad.
Baffled when you don't see him, you turn to Sam, jaw tight. "I swear to God—Where is he?"
"I'm an imitator," interrupts the Spanish man proudly.
It takes a second for your brain to put the pieces together. Sam smiles delightedly at your reaction.
"And I think I did a fairly good job at imitating your dad; considering how you ran all the way here for nothing."
A burst of panic courses through your veins, and you shake your head adamantly at him. "No," you say firmly. "You can't—"
"Y/N," he says again, imitating your dad's voice precisely. The exact same amiable tone with a demanding resonance to it.
"Bastard," you grit out, hands clenching to your sides. "You tricked me."
His lips part in response, but in the next beat, you bolt for the door, desperate to get the heck out of here. Your dad isn't even here.
But when you try to pull the metal handle, the door doesn't budge.
It's locked.
Well of course.
Terror beats in your chest, rapidly hitting against your core as you stressfully fiddle with the handle. "Open the door," you hiss, turning to Sam with a glare. "I don't have what you want."
The man raises a brow at you, eyes flaring with curiosity. "And what is it that you think I want?"
He doesn't give you a chance to speak. "I know you don't have the file," he says. "But that's not what I want. I want you to stay here until your pretty boyfriend shows up."
Your stomach twists with a wave of nausea.
"He won't come, you asshole," you spit. "Open the door before I try to kill you."
"Wrong answer," he says, and you flinch when he suddenly raises his gun at you. "Try again. This time, I suggest you be more creative." You gulp dryly when a smirk smears on his lips.
"I want you to call him," he says. "Tell him you're hurt. I'm sure he'll come running for you," he mocks.
Breathe, Y/N, breathe. All you do now is shoot the living brains out of him, then figure a way out of here.
Sam tilts his head to the side. "What do you say, sweetheart?" He takes slow strides towards you, making you clutch the gun under your coat.
"Rot in hell," you snap, pulling your gun out before him with two shaky hands.
Sam's lips curl with a cunning beam. He points his gun to you with more determination, making your breath hitch in your throat when his fingers brush against the trigger.
If you shoot him now, he'll gladly return the favor.
His index finger tugs on the trigger, but before he could apply more pressure, the door behind you slams open with a thud, making you flinch, turning behind to watch a slender man hovering at the entrance.
Jin.
Your mouth hangs open. What the heck.
"Oopsies," Jin says, shutting the door casually as if this were his own home.
You can only gape at the raven-haired man, wondering if he hit his head somewhere on his way here.
Before anything, a small dark green ball rolls unsteadily against the floor, a minor rumbling noise echoing the dorm. The ball stops between you and Sam, making you turn to Jin again, catching him wink at you. Only then do you realize that it's a freaking grenade.
"Shit!" You wail, scrabbling your legs with paranoia. But instead of hearing an explosion, smog abruptly fills the atmosphere, straining your eyes for sight.
Somewhere to the front, you hear Sam groan in pain, just after hearing a bullet shot. "Oh my god," you mutter, your line of vision permeated by chalky fog.
You freeze on your feet, hands falling down to your sides when you catch a silhouette of a broad gentleman a couple of feet away from you. In the obscurity of the scene, you considered him to be Jin or any of the boys.
But the man is masked.
God, this is ridiculous.
The man's torso turns more towards you, making you stay absolutely still in his sight. There are puffs of smog seeping around his well-fabricated tuxedo as he stares at you through his grayish-green eyes that stand out through his pale white mask.
With haunted eyes, your trembling lips part in an effort to muster out a word, but before you could, an arm grabs your shoulder from behind. "Y/N?" You snap around, squinting to see that it's Hoseok, his face scrunched with surprise, relief, and concern.
"Good Lord," he says, grabbing you in for a hug. "I thought we lost you, damnit."
His waffle scent fills your insides with guilt. "I'm sorry," you breathe, hugging him back with everything you could. "I-I wasn't thinking. My dad—I thought he—"
"Shh," he hushes you, hand gently patting your back. "Your dad's fine. Everyone's fine."
You melt. His voice is just so calming, embellished with a cartoonish vibe that somehow eases all the tension. Although now, while in his arms, you feel guilt hit your harder than ever.
You almost—almost killed Jungkook for this.
Suddenly, you break the hug, remembering that the masked gentleman is behind you. You turn to him, heart skipping a beat when you find him gone, vanished into the wonders of the moonlight fog that slowly clears out.
This is the weirdest shit out of all the other shits today.
What is this, Halloween? Now that you think about it, Halloween is in three days. So the masked dude was probably just desperate to go around and scare people.
But who even was he?
Your thoughts unsettle because on your next breath, a hand grabs your shoulder—a bigger one, and with more force that it makes your body stumble into the arms of a man.
"You're too clumsy, Park Y/N," teases Jimin's voice. You snap your gaze towards him, blushing hard when his scarlet wine lips play into a smirk.
But soon, a massive hand shoves his body to the side—the same hand that caused you to literally trip over.
"Get off her, you minion."
The voice now is foreign—you don't remember hearing any of the boys sound so deeply rich and powerful. It makes you squint up at the man hovering above, taking in his silver hair and sweaty face.
At your hawk eyes, the man smiles, his dimples cutting deep into his cheeks.
"Finally we meet, Park Y/N."
~~~~~
A/N: Unedited. The wait is over, ya'll. Joon is here.
I won't hv a lot of time in my hands for writing in the weeks ahead, & as a result, I will be keeping this book on hold. Know that I will return & finish this book so keep it in ur library/reading lists so u can come back to it. Hope u understand.
I'll be back
Luv u
~bubbletaeu