For some reason, you thought that killing someone would be more than this.

You thought that you would be able to feel it - something tangible, a hit to your gut as the life force of a human being floats away into oblivion because of you.

You thought you would be sick with yourself.

However, the whole event is shockingly anticlimactic.

The gun in your hand shakes and recoils, kicking back against your hand as the bullet exits.

As the tiny piece of metal rockets from the gun's muzzle, screeching out the sound of metal on metal in a deadly, piercing symphony.

The bullet slams into Seoungmin's temple with a dull, almost inaudible thud.

Seoungmin is staring at you.

You stare back.

And even though you watch him, meeting his eyes until his balance wavers and he tilts back, there's no certain point where you can tell that the life has left Seoungmin's eyes.

He just stares and stares and stares.

Then he falls.

The ground doesn't rupture and shake as he thumps to the floor - the world doesn't stop spinning as a small bit of blood wells up from the pitiful small entry wound on his forehead.

He's just...dead.

Min Seoungmin is dead, and you killed him.

But you're fine.

Oxygen is still flowing in and out of your lungs, and blood is still rushing through your veins.

This must be how Jimin felt when he was skipping around, covered in blood - not near as shaken as expected, and full of a giddy type of satisfaction.

You glance around the shocked audience of your father and his men, meeting their gazes one by one with a slight smile.

Just so they know.

You're fine.

And the second that the same realization permeates the room, Namjoon starts moving.

He drops to the floor in a crouch, shielded by the couch's tall back, and reaches out a hand on either side to yank Yoongi and Jin down with him.

As he's folding under the pressure of Namjoon's powerful tug, Jin catches your wrist.

Your knees crease and you stumble forward, collapsing onto the ground beside Jin. Your head smacks against the taught material of the couch backing.

Ouch.

Almost the same millisecond after your body is covered by the sofa, the rapid clicking of gun triggers sends a spray of bullets in your direction.

The movement of them cuts the room into a frenzied spiral of disturbed air, the harsh cracks of the bullets' exit a ring in your ears.

The bullets thud into the couch cushions, halted in progress by the stuffing as you're sure Namjoon intended.

He has to foresight to think about things like that.

Yoongi leans across the two men in between you and him, practically laying in Namjoon's lap as he slaps your knee with approving affection.

"Look at that," he says in that rumbly voice of his, heightened slightly in pitch by the excitement of having bullets flying around him.   He's far too casual for someone being shot at. "Y/N's first kill. We should throw you a party - like a quinceañera, but with less pink stuff."

Insanely enough, you're far too casual in your response.

You grin back at the ebony-haired man, feeling warmth well up inside you as you take in the happy tilt of his pretty eyes. The tear drop tattooed on his cheek folds up with his smile until it almost resembles a tiny heart.

This is where Yoongi's happiest - amidst firing guns and screaming.

These men are beautiful, loyal, and insanely lovable, but they sure do have a lot of crazy in them.

You're starting to rank Yoongi right up there with Jimin on the psycho-scary scale.

You love them anyways, though.

And you're starting to think that their crazy is more like a virus than anything - it's certainly rubbing off on you.

"Thanks," you mumble back, patting Yoongi's hand on your knee. "It's kind of a new start for me, I guess. A new me."

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you pause at the odd echo of the past that rings in them.

Didn't you say something similar to that, all that time ago? When you first walked into BB's Tattoo shop and beheld Yoongi at the front desk, tattooed and smoke-wreathed in a study of black, gray, and white?

It feels like centuries have passed since then, and surely you aren't the same person anymore.

Another new you has emerged.

Yoongi's contact with you is ruptured when Jin lunges his body at you.

"You...you..." Jin clasps your face between his hands, shaking you back and forth. "You precious girl. You've just rid the world of a piece of trash. I knew there was a good reason to keep you around."

Namjoon pinches Jin's ribs. "Focus. She'll be a precious dead girl if you don't."

He's right.

Even though the four of you are safely tucked away behind your sofa buttress, there's still a certain thin-lipped, doe-eyed man struggling between the two Goliaths holding him captive.

You need to get Jungkook clear, then finish this.

And, personally, you don't intend for anyone to leave this room except for tour new family.

Namjoon chances a look over the top of the couch, peering out at where Jungkook is trying to free himself.

You can practically see the neurons in his brain firing as he concocts a plan to get you all out, can watch the trains of thought running circles of track across the stillness of his form.

"I know," Jin says. He slaps Namjoon's arm once, twice, and a third time, his wrist limp and slingy with enthusiasm. "We need a projectile."

"A what?" Yoongi asks. "What difference would that make?"

If Jin hears Yoongi's dry question, he shows no signs of taking heed of it.

He's too busy taking off his right shoe.

Amid the bullets and yelling and the distant sound of your father shouting, "Don't shoot the girl!", you're not capable of anything except for staring blankly at Kim Seokjin's concentrated efforts to untie the laces of his black his dress shoe.

As soon as he frees the laces from their bearings, he's sliding the heel off.

When Jin holds the shoe over his shoulder and twists up to look over the couch, his eyes locked on the two gorillas holding Jungkook, you already know that this idea is terrible.

Your opinion is only confirmed when Jin lobs his shoe in the vague direction of Jungkook's captors. It spirals trough the air, a shiny black missile, and thumps harmlessly against the shoulder of the man holding Jungkook's right arm.

The massive man looks down with a frown at where the shoe hit him. His eyebrows crease in irritated confusion.

"Great," Yoongi sighs. "You just made King Kong angry."

The man twists Jungkook's arm in his grasp, making his gasp in pain and kick his legs helplessly.

"Who-" yells Jungkook, "-just threw a shoe? Shoot him!"

"Oh yeah!" Jin reaches over again, sliding the smooth grip of your gun into his own hand. "I forgot about this!"

Jin resumes his sniper position over the couch's back, ducking momentarily to avoid a bullet before swiftly pulling the trigger.

Where the shoe was a fly buzzing in annoying harmlessness around the giant man, the bullet sends him tilting to the ground faster than you can keep track of.

You don't see anything after that - you're not able to keep watching as a bullet whizzes by your ear. Yelping, you duck down, resting your head on the couch's back.

You can actually feel the occasional vibration of a bullet hitting into the thick couch cushions beneath your cheek, each tremor sending a tiny spark of anxiety through you.

Bullets are such tiny things, so harmless looking, but you've experienced firsthand how deadly they can be. Neither the mental will of the cold-tempered Seoungmin or the physical might of the gorilla holding Jungkook could stand in the face of such a minuscule thing.

You hope that Jungkook doesn't get caught in the same grasp.

As if responding to your thoughts, a figure emerges in the corner of your eye, squashed down into the carpet and army crawling amidst the onslaught of shots.

You wonder how Jungkook's even breathing as he squinches along like a desperate caterpillar.

Swinging himself around the edge of the couch, Jungkook half sits on top of you and lets his head fall back, panting with exertion. The pitchy hue of his bangs is darkened further with a smattering of sweat, plastering the hair to his forehead.

There's a streak of blood on his wrist.

"Did you get shot?" Before you can process your own actions and words, your hands are on him, brushing over the length of his tuxedo jacket until you find a split above his left forearm.

The material is wet, and your fingers come away stained a terrifying red.

It's funny how you killed a man without an ounce of fear minutes ago, but the sight of blood on Jungkook's skin sends you into a panic.

"Just grazed me." He closes his eyes, trying to catch his breath. Then he opens them again, black and dark and endless. "Are you okay?"

You have to sit back and ask yourself the question again.

Are you?

Are you okay?

Because even though Jungkook is the man who's saved you countless times, brought you into a new family and has shown you the beauty of love for the first time, he's now also the man who murdered your precious grandfather; that's not even mentioning that he might also be responsible for the death of Taehyung's parents.

And before, you were standing next to him, holding his hand.

Now you're looking into his eyes.

You can see the incriminating guilt glinting there.

You gave your mouth open to reassure him that you're fine, but the words catch in your throat like an unfulfilled sneeze teetering on the edge of release.

You want to know why he did it, and how, and when.

Until then, you can't honestly say that you're any sort of okay.

Tamping down the sudden emotion bubbling in your throat, you place a hand over Jungkook's, linking your fingers.

It feels like coming home - something you can't ignore, even in the face of his past.

"We'll talk when this is all over," you tell him simply. "Until then, I'll survive."

Maybe.

With a sudden sharp command from your father, all the shooting stops.

"You're pinned," snarls your father. He isn't calm anymore, isn't cool and collected now that his best man is dead on the floor and his daughter is in the height of refusal. "What more could you possibly do?"

"This," Namjoon says.

Then he rolls up into a crouch and braces his shoulder against the couch back, smacking Yoongi and Jin until they follow suit.

Unsure of the plan, you do the same thing, watching Namjoon for some sort of signal or explanation.

He doesn't give one.

Instead, he digs his heels into the carpet and pushes the couch out from under your shoulder.

"Crap!"

You scramble forward on your hands and knees, trying to catch back up as the other four men push the couch across the carpet like a row of linebackers behind a practice dummy.

Although the heavy carpet if providing heavy friction to oppose the movement, the men are strong and solid, easily pushing past the resistance.

The couch is now a moving stumbling block, headed directly for the knees of your enemies - and they have nowhere to escape.

With an entire couch hurtling toward them and the force moving it hidden out of reach, the men are helpless.

One tries to jump, another scrambling to the side, but the mighty couch lets no one escape.

It slams harshly into the legs of your father's men, sending them pitching forward in a painful front-bend.

You can basically hear their kneecaps popping out of socket.

As they go tumbling over the couch's cushions, the men's handguns are ripped from their hands while they do their very best to catch themselves. The guns fall over he back of the couch, landing at directly your feet.

Namjoon shoots you a grin and surveys the practical buffet of weapons to chose from.

The tide has shifted.

Yoongi cackles as he takes up a gun in each hand, popping up from behind the couch like a deranged jack-in-the-box, his pale fingers steady on the triggers.

Jin and Namjoon follow suit, more serious but just as deadly.

You start to stand, too, reaching for a weapon.

You can help now.

But Jungkook grabs your arm and halts you, then cradles the side of your face in his palm. "Please, just...stay here, okay?"

"What?!" you hiss back. "No, let me help! This is my fight too!"

"I know it is, Y/N, but...it's just-" He growls a little, a noise burning with frustration, and swipes a hand down his face.

Then he takes your face in both of his hands, holding your gaze to his.

"You, now, are very important to me," Jungkook says. His eyes are shadowed by his bangs, sweaty and tangled but somehow still beautiful. "And we have a lot to talk about."

His lips almost look like they're trembling.

"So?" you whisper.

With a scalding glance, black eyes burning like coal from below his lashes and bangs, black on black on black, Jungkook murmurs, "Please stay here. Make sure we have a chance to talk about everything, Princess."

Your throat clogs.

How can you feel this many things at once, in such a situation as this?

With Yoongi, Jin, and Namjoon mowing down the enemies who are trying to recover, and Jungkook's eyes branding a look into your soul, uncertainty and warmth war inside you.

Unsure how to reply, you say in a choked voice, "Then you have to stay here, too."

He doesn't verbally respond to that, but you can read the look in his eyes well enough.

Gentle denial.

"I'll keep you safe." His eye tighten at the cornered, wrinkling, and his lips purse. "It's the least I can do, hm?"

A stark reminder that splashes a burst of grudges chills across your skin.

Without another word exchanger, Jungkook snatches up a gun and pushes to his feet.

"Wait!" you call hoarsely, suddenly terrified, but he doesn't wait. Jungkook surges forward and joins his brothers in the fray, leaving you a lone, crouching figure behind the sofa.

It's your father that Jungkook's headed for.

His concentration is a tangible thing, pulsing in a bloody kind of eagerness as hestalks forward, a predator of tight-cut tux and ebony hair.

That he's so zoned in on your father worries you, because it isn't just your father who's an enemy here.

Although Namjoon might have kickstarted the entire event so that they had the advantage, the men that were bowled over by the couch are now regrouping.

Picking up fallen weapons, growling out furious curses.

Turning murderous eyes on your family.

Murderous intent.

It only takes a split second for everything to fall apart.

Jungkook is going going going, and as much as Namjoon, Yoongi and Jin do their best to cover his back, they're just plain outnumbered.

They can't keep an eye on all of them.

And your father is standing behind a trio of armed men, watching from safety with a sneer as Jungkook approaches.

The perfect place to watch in high definition detail when the bullet hits.

It's on the left side, but you can't actually see because Jungkook is facing away from you.

The only reason you know is because of the way he jerk to an abrupt stop, letting an errant hand carry up to press to the left side of his chest.

All you can think is 'That's where his heart is. That's where his heart is.'

Because that's where his heart is.

Yoongi sees, and grits his teeth at the stilled form of his younger friend.

"Keep pressure, Jungkook," growls the shorter man. He begins to work his way across the room toward him, dodging bullets. He has to step over Seoungmin's body.

Jungkook takes a stumbling step forward.

"Stop, Kook!" It' Jin from a cross the room, his arms locked around a man's neck but his eyes are locked on his brother. "Wait. Jungkook, please wait."

They keep calling him by his full name; not Kook or Kookie.

They almost never do that.

And Jungkook isn't waiting.

Every step is a painful lurch forward, his back stiff and tight with determination.

It's an opportunity that your father won't miss out on.

Jungkook's a slow-moving target, and your father is sliding a new clip into his gun, moving one third of his security detail out of the way for a clear shot.

Jungkook's still not stopping.

Yoongi's progress isn't quick enough. He keeps getting held back, wrestling through a sea of giant men.

There's no time.

The gun isn't aimed at his heart this time.

It's aimed at his head.

So you go.

You push yourself up from behind your shelter, and you run toward him.

Past him.

Putting yourself in the way.

And a hair-breath before your father pulls the trigger, you're there in front of him to swat the gun away.

Except, the gun isn't pointed at Jungkook anymore; in fact, it isn't pointed at anyone. It's hanging loosely by your father's side, and his other hand is wrapping in a bruising grip around your arm.

Like he was expecting you to do exactly what you did.

"Y/N!" Namjoon starts toward you, but his turn brings him into the restraining arms of another man. The struggle for a moment, then there's a sickening, wet crack, and a corresponding yelp.

And now Namjoon's clutching his left arm to his chest, the angle at which it's hanging sending swirls of nausea through you.

And Yoongi's surrounded by a group of three men, using the butt of his gun as a desperate weapon as he struggles to fend them off.

And Jin's sparring with a man that resembles a brick wall, his hands a blur of speed as he tries to use his smaller stature as an advantage.

And Jungkook.

He's falling to his knees.

"Break. The. Door. Down," demands your father.

Two of his bodyguards do exactly that, pounding the door with their meaty shoulders until it collapses out, screws and hinges groaning loose.

You try to use the same trick that you did with Seoungmin, stomping down with your heels, but your father is prepared for that. He keeps you an arm's distance away, skillfully avoiding the wild hits you throw at him.

Then he's dragging you out the door.

And the last thing you see in the room is Jungkook, a hand to his visceral, bleeding heart and his black eyes dim, falling into a still heap on the ground.

[A/N]
Reallllllly unedited.

In the past month, I've graduated college, transferred to a new school, moved houses, gotten all four of my wisdom teeth removed, started working a nearly full-time job, and have been making plans to move again into a new house in the fall.
I'm sorry you all thought I was dead.😭
For a while, I thought I was dead - but no. I've just been extremely busy. I'm very sorry for the delay of this chapter.
:( I hope you can forgive me.
❤️PB