Jungkook steps closer to the monitor, his fingers pulling slightly away from yours.
For a moment, the screen goes completely blank with a gray mist of dust and rubble, flooding through the room and blanketing the camera like a sandstorm. Eventually, the particles start to clear away, leaving the camera lenses speckled with grit but functional.
Something vague and corporeal shifts in the dust still hazing the doorway.
With wide and gleeful black eyes, Jungkook watches as a familiar figure steps cautiously through the gloom and into the camera's picture.
The muted tones of the monitor cast the high angles of Jung Hoseok's face into sepia and ash-grey, his hair a murky brown streaked through with pale dust. The darkness of his clothing and hair make him momentarily blend into the rubble still drifting around him.
A shade amongst shadows.
Hoseok flushes out of the ash cloud and into the room like some grand hero, his shoulders back, spine straight and proud, clad in that sharp-cut tux that outedges his slender figure.
For an unending second, pride swells in your chest, almost to a breaking point.
There he is - your luck and your friend, the unexpected, uninvited, unstoppable force.
The dark horse, out to play.
Then Hoseok sucks in a lungful of air, and loses any intimidation factor he could've just gained.
He breaks into an epic coughing fit, face creasing in distress at the sudden attack of dust particles, and clutches his chest like he's dying. The wheezes of his breath are silent through the monitors, but his body wracks with the coughing in a visible ode to allergies.
Jin sighs.
Your father tilts his head, watching with distant fascination as Hoseok starts crying - a result of the grit in his eyes as well as his violent coughing fit. "One of yours, I presume?"
Jimin grins with a fierce, angry satisfaction, unperturbed by his hyung's unfashionable entrance, and Namjoon's eyes have gone flat to calculative brown slits.
You exchange a glance with Jin, whose lips are pursed up into half of a smug smirk, and half an embarrassed grimace.
When did Hoseok even get away? You ask with your eyes, narrowing them in question.
Jin shrugs, just as clueless as you.
As his coughing finally begins to subside a little, Hoseok peeks his head in through the wreckage and looks around with surprise, as if the wreckage is unexpected. He looks up and down, left and right at the blasted remains of the door, lifts a single eyebrow, and nods in impressed satisfaction.
"I made that bomb." Yoongi grins proudly. "It was just a prototype, but I think I've got a knack for it."
As he's speaking, Hoseok finally spies Taehyung and the man with the knife. They watch each other through the hazy dust, Hoseok's stance loose and ready.
Taehyung's eyes are wide above his gag, diving between his friend and his captor in bloody, scarred exhaustion.
Hoseok's opponent squares off to him.
The man's knife is a deadly flash of monotone on the screen, and he swirls it in his grip in a way that means he knows how to use it. Worry sprouts a bloom in your chest at the obvious skill of knife handling. Hoseok watches him for a moment, tilting his head at the knife, then at the man using it.
Then he shrugs, pulls a handgun out from the hem of his pants, and shoots the man in the chest.
"That settles that," Jin mutters as the man falls like a downed tree, sending up a puff of dust when he smashes to the ground.
How anticlimactic.
Hoseok slinks toward Taehyung, and your father pinches the bridge of his nose.
"Someone go get him," he grumbles, showing the first sign of discontent since you've seen him.
Even still, it's isn't panic or shock - your father simply showcases mild irritation, the very slightest hint of alarm.
He's underestimating them.
The mass of men that had been lining the back of the room shifts, a portion of them leaving the way they'd come to deal with the problem being displayed on the monitor.
Even though only a small number of men have left, as they shut the door behind them, you can see Namjoon and Yoongi communicating silently across the room.
You're able to discern the messages well enough.
The loss of those few men has evened the odds just enough - just enough that, with the six of you, you might be able to take them.
Not that you'll be any help in that endeavor.
It doesn't look like the other Bangtan Boys have made it through with any weapons, so it's got to be all by hand, but you can't say you aren't confidant in their ability to escape slippery situations.
Your opinion is duly reinforced as Jimin cracks his knuckles and looks at the remaining men, his eyes starting to glaze with that scary bloodlight that you've seen before.
They should be afraid.
Your father turns to your group, his watchful, icy eyes analyzing and severe.
Your father is a Boss, a criminal, and a man whose instincts have been honed to a fine point in order to thrive and survive - so he can feel it.
The power shift.
"Jimin," says Namjoon softly. "Would you like to help here or there?"
For a second, the orange-headed man hesitates. He reaches up and taps the piercing that's centered in the hollow of his cheek.
"I'll watch him for you," Yoongi offers, glancing at Jungkook, and you suddenly understand Jimin's indecisiveness.
Taehyung's there, but Jungkook's here.
It's ingrained into Jimin by now, as a former bodyguard, to constantly watch out for Jungkook. It must be difficult for him to leave the younger man's presence in a time of danger, even to save his best friend.
On the monitor's screen, Hoseok steps over the body of the fallen man, grins directly at the camera, and waves.
Jimin nods. "I'll go there, please."
Namjoon flicks his finger toward the door, giving his permission. "Lock the door on your way out, would you?"
It's strange - a simple request, an average answer. The exchange is so polite, like a student asking a teacher to go to the restroom, that Jimin's next actions are almost comically out of context.
He turns, carrying his slight figure toward one of the behemoth men guarding the door. It looks, at first, like Jimin's about to kindly ask the man to move.
But he doesn't.
He just renders him completely useless.
A quick jab to the abdomen brings the man's face down to Jimin's level, accompanied by a grunt of pain that you're sure doesn't fully express the feeling of such a sharp, aggravated hit.
Jimin slams his balled-up fist into the man's jaw before he can recover, sending him reeling.
As their comrade is so abruptly attacked, the other guards begin to swarm towards Jimin with vengeance in their eyes.
You don't even have the opportunity to be frightened as, one by one, in a strangely casual way, Jimin sends the large men thumping to the ground.
He's scarily fast, blood-spattered and angry as he bounces like a pinball between all of them, the impact of each hit disabling his victims (victims, not opponents, because not one of them can so much as touch Jimin) to the point that they become groaning, agonized lumps around his feet.
His face is creased into that familiar, crazy smile - but his eyes aren't smiling at all.
Every time Park Jimin rears back, his shoulder blades sharp arches along the curve of his back, his body languidly coiled like a snake preparing to strike, you can feel the emotion pouring out of him.
One hit for the mob raiding the mansion house, two for the bomb destroying the safe house. Three, four, five - Hoseok's family, Yoongi's love, your freedom. For Jungkook and Namjoon and Jin, he won't hold back, and three more men are on the floor.
For Taehyung.
Jimin's eyes flare, he smiles like the Joker, and he doesn't stop even though his knuckles are raw and dripping blood.
For Taehyung.
By the end of it all, Jimin's not even sweating, standing surrounded by a ring of immobilized men.
He looks at you, the beautiful slants of his eyes burning, and walks out the door.
A moment later, a tremendous crack echoes across the wood of the door.
Seoungmin's nostrils flare, and he moves toward the door with a stiff, angry stride. When he turns the knob, a loud curse spews from his lips when it doesn't stop - the knob simply continues to rotate, around and around.
Jimin's somehow broken the doorknob so it can no longer be opened.
You're locked in.
Why?
"Leave it, Seoungmin," your father says softly. "They can go and save him all they want - what I came for is in this room."
Hoseok's begun to untie Taehyung, his fingers a soundless blur on the monitor. He looks like he's speaking but you can't make out the words, mouth flashing in a babble of silence.
You wish you could hear him - it's far too quiet in this room. It's a creeping, heavy silence, the kind that weighs down your bones and allows dread to come sidling in, and it's only broken by the soft shuffling of Jimin's victims struggling back to their feet.
It shouldn't feel like this.
Taehyung isn't alone anymore, and there's a good chance that the remaining five of you can get out unscathed.
Somehow, though, something feels off.
Maybe it's the way that your father's eyes have alighted on the interlocked fingers of you and Jungkook, and the oddly irritated expression that mists through them.
Suddenly, as if he's abruptly become exhausted, your father heaves out a great sigh and steeples his fingers in front of his face.
His eyes bore into yours, dancing from you to Namjoon to the sneer creeping up the corners of Yoongi's lips, from your brothers freeing themselves on the screen to where Jin watches back with glassy eyes.
"Let's end this, Y/N," he murmurs.
His voice edges toward the soft dip of what could almost be tenderness, a detail that sends shivers of disgust radiating through you. "You've had your fun, rescuing your friend, but this is the end. Come back now, and no one else will be hurt. We can enjoy the party together, just like we used to. This is the last time I'm asking."
You inhale sharply.
He wants to bring you back to the party - parade you around like a trophy in front of all the vital cogs in the criminal machine. A symbol of silent, personal victory that only he would know of.
Not even the Bangtan Boys could bring him down.
But, with a quick glance at the faces around you, you determine that tonight is an all-or-nothing kind of deal. They won't be letting you go any easier than they would let Taehyung go.
Meeting your father's gaze, you hold tighter to Jungkook's hand and stand firm.
He purses his lips.
Glances again at where your hand rests in Jungkook's. "Don't you think it's odd, Mr. Jeon, that you're the one my daughter found solace with? I've been trying to find you for a very long time."
A small, uneasy pit begins to form in your stomach.
You look at Jungkook, suprised to find his skin bleached white as a sheet, his eyes somehow resembling those of a frightened animal.
This is how he looked at you in the van before, when he had muttered that skittish, strangely-terrified whisper of your name.
"Y/N," he had said. "Y/N, I-"
"What are you talking about?" you ask ruggedly. Your father doesn't respond - his eyes are focused solely on Jungkook, harsh, unrepentant, and almost...smug.
Because he knows something you don't - because Jungkook knows it too.
Because, whatever it is, Boss Song knows that Jungkook hasn't told you.
You're the tiniest bit relieved at the fact that Namjoon, Jin and Yoongi don't understand either. They're sending furtive glances toward Jungkook.
"It's not odd," Jungkook says. "It's not."
Your mind is scrabbling at scraps of inflection and expression, trying unsuccessfully to string together random elements of the situation in order to make sense of it.
Why is it odd that it was Jungkook?
It makes you remember how, in the beginning, you recognized him from the photo hung in your father's office that was surrounded by implicating red strings and research. After finding out the true occupation of the BB's Tattoo Shop employees, you had brushed off that detail as the simple awareness between one major criminal and another.
Now, you aren't so sure.
If your father was only tracking the Bangtan Boys all those months ago, then why Jungkook?
Why not Namjoon, or Jin or Yoongi?
Why him?
The sickly paleness of his skin and the strange, guilty gleam in Jungkook's eyes only heighten your unease.
What's going on?
Namjoon edges around the back of the sofa, putting it between himself and your father as he turns to look him in the face. The dark blonde of his hair, usually so neat and clean-cut, is ruffled into unruly peaks.
Namjoon says, "I just want to make things clear."
His tone is strong as steel, the kind of voice that can, with a harsh word, tear down your confidence, and with a kind one rebuild it to its highest heights in an instant - the voice of a leader.
"I'm not sure what happened here," he continues, switching a finger between your father and Jungkook, "-but it's irrelevant. Our family has been through worse than this, and we'll survive long enough to go through more. You're not strong enough."
"Hyung," Jungkook whispers.
Your father chuckles.
"You think you're all a family?" he asks. His dark eyes close, crinkling at the corners as he laughs again.
He stops laughing.
Points at you.
"That is not your family, Boss Kim," sneers your father mockingly. "That's my daughter, do you understand? Mine. And she's mine to do with what I wish. If you think for one second that my daughter belongs with your group of sewer rats that just can't seem to die off when you're supposed to, then you're much dumber than I expected."
The slew of venomous words pours into the room like a noxious cloud of poison, sinking into your skin and chemically reacting with your anger until you're ready to explode.
Sewer rats.
How dare he? To your brothers, who're more honorable men in their youth than your father ever could be?
But Namjoon doesn't even blink.
He simply says, quietly, "Y/N is our family. You haven't been her father for a long, long time."
Click.
Something inside you, a part of you that you didn't know was absent, settles soothingly into its place.
Thinking to yourself that these men are your brothers is a different situation entirely from this - this validation. From the reassurance of mutual love, mutual acceptance.
This is your family, the only one you've ever had.
The only one you ever will have.
If you die today, it will be fighting beside the only people in the universe who have ever genuinely loved you to the end - to a fault. If they didn't love you, it would be infinitely easier to leave you behind.
But nobody's being left behind today.
If you're going down, it'll be side by side.
Yoongi sidles up beside Namjoon, and Jin follows. Jungkook pulls you over, too, to join the united force standing against your father, defiant, separated by only your non-conformity and a sofa.
"You aren't getting Song Y/N today," Jin says, "-and you aren't getting her ever."
Yoongi tilts his head back, somehow managing to look down his nose at your father and Seoungmin, even though he's a good inch shorter than both. "Come and get her. I dare you."
You're strong enough together.
A strong enough family, solid and stalwart in your bond. Unbreakable, inseparable.
Ready.
You're ready to live.
"Look at that, Seoungmin," murmurs your father. "Look at her, siding with them. I didn't know that family kills family."
...what?
Jungkook's lips tighten at the corners, his piercings two strained indents against them.
Your father turns directly to you, knowingly serious as he stares into your eyes.
"Aren't you ashamed, daughter?" he asks. "Shacking up with a murderer?"
"What?" you ask. "I don't-"
He cuts you off. "Of course you don't know. Why would he tell you? He would lose you, wouldn't he?"
All in a moment, the pieces snap into place.
Murderer.
Family killing family.
Why Jungkook looked so frightened in the car - not because you asked him about the rain.
Because you were talking about-
"Your grandfather. Isn't that right, Mr. Jeon?" Your father glances at Jungkook, and, for the first time, grins in outright malicious glee. "Why would he tell you that he killed your grandfather?"
[A/N]
Severely Unedited
Sorry
❤️PB