Jungkook's still holding your hand.

Your father and Seoungmin haven't felt the urge to separate you just yet, and you're more relieved than words can describe.

Because of the narrower cut of the hotel hallways, Yoongi can no longer stand abreast with the other two of you. He strides along in front of you, his gait sluggish and unconcerned.

He's going really, really slow - slow enough that even you have to shorten your stride as you keep pace behind him.

It's irritating Seoungmin, since he and your father keep having to slow their pace as Yoongi  peruses the corridors like he's got all the time in the world.

"So, I'm curious," Yoongi comments, inching by a painting in the hallway. His eyes appear to be intensely critiquing the vibrant splashes of blue and lavender paint, but you can somehow tell that he's not really thinking about the paining at all.

Although the thought is inopportune and out of place, you're a little proud that you can read the lilt of his chocolate eyes so well.

Yoongi's hedging comment rumbles inignorably by your father and Seoungmin.

The two of them seem reluctant to take part in any conversation with Yoongi, but you get the feeling that there's some type of obligatory respect due him for once being the biggest Boss in Daegu.

Neither of them look back, but your father motions for your companion to continue.

At the sign, Yoongi's lips purse and his eyes widen in a kind of comically fake innocence. "No ice sculptures? I thought this was supposed to be a classy party."

For the love of all things.

Even though neither your father nor Seoungmin deem that inquiry worthy of a reply, Jungkook lets out a small huff of air that sounds suspiciously like laughter.

That laughter sets Seoungmin over the edge.

He turns over his shoulder and snipes coolly, "I'm not sure you know what class is."

Your fearless leader, the man with a retort for everything, shrugs and says, "Well, I'm not sure you guys know how to throw a party."

You lean toward Jungkook. "I just wanted you to know that it was really great to know you. Honestly. But if we're reincarnated and meet again, please don't talk to me. I can't live through this again."

Jungkook snorts, pressing his lips together in a sad effort to muffle his untimely laughter, and you have to cover your own mouth in response.

Suddenly, it hits you.

The three of you are laughing.

It's just like the mansion's bathroom with Taehyung and the shampoo gun - lots of laughter in a very non-laughable situation.

The same, but also very, very different.

This time, Taehyung could be dead.

But then Yoongi sighs, "I really thought there would be a swan," and a giggle bursts from you.

It has to be the nervousness, the fear - two emotions that have such drastic pull on human behavior. Dangerously metamorphic feelings that can make you laugh in the face of death - literally.

Yoongi is once again ignored by the two men leading you down the corridor, but Seoungmin's jaw is set on edge.

Your father is as plastic as ever.

Eventually, the plush carpet angles sharply to the right, branching down a hall that veers off from the main path. At the end of the hall is an unmarked door, dead-ending the short detour.

Anyone else in the hotel might think it's a maintenance room or storage.

If you didn't know any better you'd think the plain wooden door is innocent; however, with Seoungmin and your father leading the way, it feels like a nearly-intangible phantom of malice is seeping out from the door's cracks.

Seoungmin steps forward and swings the door open, smiling eerily as your father passes through, and the three of you hesitate.

Yoongi marches through the threshold first, his lips pursed, a frosty contrast from his light-hearted attitude moments ago.

Tonight, emotions are coming and going so quickly that you can't keep track.

Jungkook goes next, his body a physical shield between you and Seoungmin, who stays behind to hold open the door. Your clasped hands guide you forward through the doorway, into a private sitting room.

Thick carpet sprawls across the floors, dotted sparsely with a few armchairs and one small sofa. The main feature of the room is a spray of desks, three in number, each topped with sleek computer monitors that show security footage from around the hotel.

The first set of screens shows the main entrances of the hotel, steady streams of guests and part goers alike moving in and out like currents in the sea.

The second set are flashes of the party in the ballroom, the loud colors of the dresses muted by the glare on the monitors.

When you look at the final set of monitors, your eye can only stay focused for a moment before they go painfully dry, then gloss over with tears. Beside you, Jungkook's quick inhale sends a shiver through his body.

You turn your face into his arm to hold back a sob.

It's Taehyung.

Yoongi says nothing, his jaw clenched in icy outrage.

There are one, two, three, four cameras angled over Taehyung, providing a crystal clear, detailed picture of his wrists bound behind him as he sits alone in the middle of an empty room. He's in a chair, slumped over as if unconscious, and you can see the white cloth of a gag pulled harshly against the corners of his lips.

His light hair is darkened and smeary, caked with blood.

They've taken off his shirt to leave him bare-chested and shivering. As you look over his skin from all angles, you can't help but feel your knees weaken in shock and disgust.

Taehyung's skin is mutilated, every visible spot of it covered with wretched black and purple bruising and the deep, nasty red of both fresh and aged cuts.

He's beaten, scourged, weak and frail.

At the hem of his pants you can see, with soul-wrenching agony, the tail end of a flowered vine peeping out.

Your heart shatters.

Yoongi strides forward slowly, eyes focused unwaveringly on the screens. There's no expression in his eyes - no light, no anger, no sadness.

Just pure, unadulterated nothing.

"You're going to die for this," he says, so quiet that his ragged voice is almost swallowed by the plush carpet.

Your father doesn't seem too concerned.

In fact, he gives a vague smile at the threat.

Jungkook's hand in yours is nearly vibrating with anger, the kind of anger that swells and billows like an inflating balloon, physically pressing out his chest and shoulders.

His black eyes are burning, sparking embers.

Your father sighs and tsks, like he's dealing with a child throwing a temper tantrum. "Let's take deep breaths, hm? There's a reason we invited you."

You grind your teeth together.

How can he be like this? How is it that you never noticed, for years on end, the level of cruelty that your father is capable of?

You lived with this...this monster, slept under the same roof, breathed in the same air.

Felt affection for him, even - the wayward love of an ignorant daughter for her father.

Now, standing here, watching him lord your beaten brother over your head like some grand trophy, you can catch a glimpse of his cavernous lack of humanity, his disrespect for all human life.

Your father is missing an integral part of him.

He's sinister, demonic almost.

He's wrong.

The door behind you slams open suddenly, causing you to instinctually flinch into Jungkook's side.

You didn't notice Seoungmin leave before, but now he's bursting into the room, flinging the door wide open.

Everyone in the room rotates to watch as he steps back, face artfully cool, and lets a line of figures trudge in through the door.

You almost cry out loud when you see Namjoon at the head of the line, his eyes narrowed and angry.

"No," you whisper in dismay as, one by one, your friends- no, your brothers - file in through the door.

They're being forced forward by a group of men at the back, armed and glaring in that mercenary-kind of irritation.

"They're all here, sir," Seoungmin says. He steps back and starts to count again, double checking.

After getting a glimpse of Jimin's face as he follows close behind Namjoon, blood spattered and murderous, you have to turn away.

Hopelessness drops a stone in your stomach.

Everything went wrong. Everything, and now you're all trapped here, surrounded.

You know what they want.

Your father's going to make a trade deal - if they take Taehyung and go, but leave you, they can walk free. No fighting, no killing - the most efficient way to get what he wants while not wasting the lives of his own men as well.

And they'll have to choose - you, or Taehyung?

There's an obvious choice.

"Now that we're all present, we can get started." Your father clasps his hands in a generous, mannerly way, smiling in absurd politeness at your ragtag group.

A furious hiss slashes through Jimin's teeth when he sees the monitors showing Taehyung.

"I think you know how this is going to go. If you leave my daughter here, then I'll forgive you of everything. You can walk out with your friend, unbothered," intones your father.

Quietly, Namjoon says, "And if we don't?"

Yoongi bares his teeth.

"If you don't?" For a moment, your father looks up, considering.

Then he snaps his fingers.

On the screen, a man enters the room that Taehyung is in. You all watch with bated breath as the he pulls out a knife.

"Stop," Jin breathes.

The man approaches the unconscious Taehyung, tilting his head back and forth in an almost playful manner.

He stops abruptly when his eyes land on something and reaches out to lightly touch the half-finished angel wings on Taehyung's ribs.

You cover your mouth.

That's the same tattoo that Jungkook was working on the day you first met, the very one that was being inked into Taehyung's skin when he first gifted you with his sweet, quirky smile.

Jungkook never finished the tattoo.

Now, he might never get the chance.

The man on the screen presses the top of the knife into Taehyung's skin, and begins to trace.

There's no audio on the video feed, so when Taehyung arches back against the chair, waking up from whatever dazed state he's in, the screams being wrenched from his wide open mouth are silent nuances of implied agony.

Your father says, "If you don't, then I suppose none of you will be walking out at all."

You grasp Jungkook's sleeve with your free hand, pulling him down toward you.

"Let me go, please," you beg. Seoungmin flinches in the corner of your eye, but you ignore the odd motion. "It isn't worth him being hurt like this. Please, just give me over."

If they try to protect you, no one is getting out of here alive. You're all caught, like a mouse in a trap.

It's simple. Your plan failed.

They have to let you go.

There's isn't another way, other than certain destruction.

But Jungkook whispers, "Wait. They think they have all of us."

Huh?

"That's because they do have all of us," you mumble back.

"No." Jungkook's voice is low enough that only you can hear, his eyes trained on the group of his hyungs gathered at the back of the room. "Count again."

"What?" You turn slightly, and realize with shock that Seoungmin is also scanning over them, his eyes getting wider and wider with every pass over.

Quickly, you count.

One, two, three...

Three.

There should be four.

Combined with Jungkook and Yoongi at your side and Taehyung on the screen, there should be a total of seven men.

There are only six.

They missed someone.

You inhale sharply. "Where's Hoseok?"

In Seoungmin eyes, you can read the same question, crystal clear and outlined in pure panic.

Jungkook smiles grimly. "This isn't over yet."

"Sir," Seoungmin starts to say to your father, but doesn't finish.

Can't finish.

His words are cut off as, on the computer screen, the door to Taehyung's room explodes, caving into a crumble of dust, ash, and smoke.

[A/N]
Unedited
It's been so long. All I can say is that I'm sorry :(
Forgive me~
❤️PB