—A broken friendship is more dangerous than an open enemy because betrayal comes from the shadows where loyalty once stood.—

****

Caporigeme Sehun stepped out of the car, his face drawn with exhaustion and worry. His usual sharp confidence was dulled, replaced by a heavy air of devastation. As he made his way inside Don's secret mansion, the weight of the night bore down on him. Every step felt heavy as if his legs might give out beneath him.

Caporigeme Hawk, who had been resting on the couch, shot up when he heard the door. His hand instinctively reached for his gun, but he let out a long breath when he saw Sehun.

"You're back?" Hawk asked, his voice low but alert.

Sehun merely hummed in response, his eyes scanning the room briefly. "Where's Jongin?"

"Asleep," Hawk said with a nod toward one of the closed doors. "Kyoong too. They've been out for a while now."

Hawk hesitated for a moment, then asked the question that had been weighing on him since Sehun left. "And Don Chanyeol? How is he?"

Sehun stopped in his tracks, his jaw tightening. "Alive," he said. "The surgery was successful. He's trying to recover."

Hawk exhaled a breath of relief, nodding slowly. "Thank God."

Sehun, though visibly relieved, quickly shifted his focus. "Where's the asshole?" he asked, his voice turning cold.

"Tied him up in the underground," Hawk replied. "Still out cold from the punches you gave him."

Without another word, Sehun turned and made his way to the elevator. As soon as the doors slid open, he stepped inside, punching a few buttons that sent the lift descending into the underground. This was the same place where they had once kept Jongin, a space meant for more than just hiding.

When the elevator came to a halt, Sehun walked out into the dimly lit underground space. He bypassed the interrogation room and went straight to the small bathroom, grabbing a bucket from beneath the sink. He then filled the bucket with cold water from the tap.

With the bucket in hand, Sehun strode towards the room where the assassin had been tied down. The man sat bound to a chair, duct tape still covering his mouth, his head slumped over as he remained unconscious from the earlier beating. The room was cold, the faint hum of the building's ventilation system the only sound.

Sehun stepped forward and, without hesitation, dumped the cold water over the assassin. The sudden shock caused the man to jerk violently, gasping for air as he struggled to open his eyes, disoriented and shivering from the cold.

The assassin gasped and sputtered, his body shivering uncontrollably as the freezing water soaked through his clothes. His head jerked up, eyes wide and unfocused, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. It took him a moment to register where he was, and when he did, his body tensed in panic, straining against the ropes that bound him tightly to the chair.

Sehun watched him with cold, calculating eyes, his jaw clenched tightly as the man struggled. "You're awake now," Sehun said quietly, his voice low and dangerous. "Let's talk."

The assassin's eyes darted around the room, his breath coming in shallow gasps through the duct tape still plastered over his mouth. Sehun slowly crouched in front of him, ripping the tape off in one swift motion. The man winced but remained silent.

"I'm not here to waste time," Sehun said, his voice calm but filled with menace. "You're going to tell me who sent you."

The assassin stayed silent, his chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. Sehun stared at him for a moment, then slowly rose to his feet. Without warning, his fist shot out, striking the man squarely in the jaw. The chair rocked backward with the force of the blow, but the ropes held it in place. Blood dribbled from the corner of the assassin's mouth, but he still said nothing.

"I'll ask again," Sehun said, his voice tight with barely controlled fury. "Who sent you?"

The man coughed, spitting blood onto the floor, but remained defiantly silent. Sehun's patience wore thin. With a sharp motion, he grabbed the man's collar and pulled him forward, his face inches from the assassin's.

"I can keep this going all day," Sehun growled. "But I promise, you won't last that long."

He shoved the man back into the chair and landed another punch, this time to his gut. The assassin let out a strangled gasp, his body jerking against the restraints, but still, he refused to speak. Sehun's eyes flashed with anger as he landed another punch, this time harder, right across the man's temple. The assassin groaned, his head lolling to the side, but still, he stayed silent.

"Fine," Sehun said, his voice icy. "You want to play tough? Let's see how tough you are."

He delivered a series of blows, each one harder than the last, his knuckles bruising from the force. The assassin grunted and groaned with each hit, his body slumping further into the chair, his face a bloody mess. Sehun stepped back, his chest heaving with rage, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white.

"You've got one last chance," Sehun said, his voice low and deadly. "Who. Sent. You?"

The assassin coughed, blood dripping from his lips as he wheezed for breath. His vision blurred, his body on the verge of giving out from the punishment. Finally, his will cracked.

He looked up at Sehun through swollen eyes, his voice barely more than a raspy whisper. "Moon... Dae-Jung."

Sehun's eyes narrowed at the name, his heart hammering in his chest. "Moon Dae-Jung?" he repeated, his voice tight with disbelief.

The assassin nodded weakly, his body sagging in the chair. "He... He wanted the Don... dead," he choked out. "Said it had to be done."

"Moon Dae-Jung wanted the Don dead?" Sehun repeated, his voice tight with fury. He grabbed the assassin by the collar again, pulling him closer. "Did he also orchestrate the ambush yesterday? The one that almost killed our men and the Don?"

The assassin shook his head weakly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know anything about that," he rasped. "All I was paid to do... was kill the Don. That's it."

Sehun released his grip, letting the assassin slump back into the chair, his body barely able to stay upright. The man had said all he could, and now Sehun knew the truth.

"Please... I have a sick mother, she's 50 years old." the assassin gasped, his voice trembling. "Let me go... I'll leave town with my family right now, I swear. You'll never see me again."

Sehun's lip curled into a sneer as he took a step back. His eyes hardened, disgusted by the man's cowardice. "Shut the fuck up!" he spat, his voice low and dangerous.

The assassin's eyes widened as Sehun loomed over him, a dangerous look flashing across his face. Sehun's voice was low, almost a growl. "Pray that nothing happens to the Don," he warned, his eyes sharp as daggers. "If he doesn't make it, I swear you and everyone you love will pay the price. I'll take them all out—one by one—until there's nothing left of you or your life."

The threat hit the assassin like a knife to the gut. Terror filled his eyes as Sehun's words sunk in. He started to cry, his body trembling in fear. He knew that Sehun meant every word, and if Chanyeol didn't survive, there would be no escape.

Sehun turned on his heel without another word, the assassin's sobs echoing behind him. His footsteps were firm, every movement filled with a deadly determination. As the door slammed shut, the assassin broke down completely, tears streaming down his face.

~
~
~

As the first rays of morning filtered through the trees surrounding the Fire and Light Mafia Estate, Heechul stood near the grand entrance of the hospital, arms crossed, deep in thought. His eyes were tired, haunted by the events of the night. When a black sedan pulled up to the front of the building, Heechul snapped out of his reverie. He recognized the license plate. It was Kim Jongdae, Chanyeol's cousin and a doctor, someone who could finally bring some much-needed support.

The car rolled to a stop, and as soon as Jongdae stepped out, Heechul approached with an air of seriousness.

"Doctor Kim Jongdae," Heechul greeted, his voice calm but laced with exhaustion. "We weren't expecting you so soon."

Jongdae adjusted his glasses, his face tense. "Heechul Hyung, the moment I heard Chanyeol was shot, I came straight here. You know I had to."

Heechul nodded, understanding. "He's stable now, but it was bad. They barely got the bullet out in time."

Jongdae's face grew even more grim. "Take me to him."

Heechul motioned for him to follow, and together, they walked inside the hospital toward the private medical ward where Chanyeol was resting.

~
~
~

Meanwhile, Baekhyun had just finished a quick shower, letting the water wash away the restless tension that had built up overnight. Despite trying to calm himself, his mind was still spinning. He hadn't heard from Chanyeol, and every passing minute felt like a weight pressing down on his chest. He slipped into clothes before heading toward his mother's room.

He knocked twice on the door before stepping in.

His mother was sitting by the window, her wheelchair beside her, as she gazed out at the morning sky. She turned her attention to him, her face warm yet curious.

"Good morning, Mom, I... still haven't heard from Chanyeol," Baekhyun said, running a hand through his damp hair. "Something doesn't feel right. I don't know what to think anymore."

His mother's eyes softened. She could see how troubled he was, but she also knew her son was rarely this vulnerable. "What do you want to do about it?" she asked gently.

Baekhyun sighed, pacing the room a little. "I want to go to Chanyeol's house. I need to see what's going on. I can't just sit here and do nothing."

Mrs. Byun looked at her son thoughtfully for a moment, her eyes taking in the way his face twisted with worry, the way his words trembled ever so slightly. Finally, she sighed, her voice gentle but firm. "Baekhyun... do you love him this much?"

The question caught Baekhyun off guard. His face turned a shade of pink as he tried to avoid eye contact. Does he love Chanyeol? "I—Mom, I don't know...what I feel,"

"You don't have to say it," his mother interrupted with a knowing smile. "It's written all over your face, Baekhyun. You're in love with Chanyeol. I can see it."

Baekhyun's blush deepened, and he fumbled with the hem of his shirt, trying to find the words to deny it. But his mother's gentle smile stopped him.

"I just hope, dear," she said softly, "that he returns the love you're giving him. A man who truly cares would never leave his partner in the dark for so long."

Baekhyun bit his lip, his heart sinking a little at her words. "He's not like that, Mom... Something's wrong, I know it."

His mother gave a light nod as if she believed him, but concern still lingered in her eyes. "Then go, Baekhyun. Go and see for yourself. And remember, you deserve someone who loves you just as fiercely as you love them."

Baekhyun nodded, feeling a sense of resolve building inside him. He would go to the Fire & Light Mafia Estate, and no matter what he found there, he would confront the truth head-on. With a final glance at his mother, he made his way toward the door, his heart heavy but determined.

~
~
~

The hallways of the Fire and Light hospital were eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the turmoil that had consumed the mansion the night before. Heechul led Jongdae through the corridor, their footsteps the only sound echoing off the marble floors. Tension hung in the air, thick and suffocating. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, a sign that preparations had been made to care for Chanyeol.

Heechul glanced at Jongdae as they neared the private ward, where Chanyeol was being kept. "He's been under heavy medication," he said, his voice low but steady. "The surgery was successful, but he's still weak."

Jongdae only nodded, his face set in a grim line. He knew his cousin, Chanyeol, was a fighter, but this wasn't just a street brawl or a back alley scuffle—this was life and death. And Jongdae couldn't help but feel the weight of it pressing down on his shoulders.

When they arrived at the door of Chanyeol's room, Heechul hesitated before pushing it open. The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn to shield the harsh morning light from disturbing the sleeping Don. Chanyeol lay still in the hospital bed, his face pale, his breathing slow and steady—an effect of the medication. A heart monitor beeped softly beside him, the rhythmic sound a reminder of how fragile the line between life and death could be.

Jongdae approached the bed, his sharp eyes scanning Chanyeol's form. The wound had been carefully stitched and bandaged, and from what Jongdae could tell, there was no immediate sign of infection. He let out a slow breath, one he didn't even realize he was holding.

"He's out of immediate danger," Jongdae muttered, almost to himself.

"He's been lucky," Heechul replied, standing at the foot of the bed. "No organ damage, no bone fractures. It was close, though."

Jongdae nodded, still focused on Chanyeol's vitals. "Luck won't be enough. He's got a long road ahead."

Just then, the door creaked open again, and the estate's resident doctor entered the room. He was a middle-aged man with graying hair, his expression tired but composed.

"Doctor Kim," the resident doctor greeted, with Jongdae offering a small bow of respect. "I assume you've been briefed?" The doctor asked.

"I have," Jongdae said. "But I need to hear the details."

The resident doctor moved toward the bedside, flipping through Chanyeol's medical chart. "He was brought in with a single gunshot wound to the left side of his abdomen. Fortunately, no vital organs were damaged, but the bullet did come dangerously close to the kidney. We were able to remove it without complications, but he lost a lot of blood. His vitals have stabilized since the surgery, but he's still weak. We're keeping a close eye on him for signs of infection or internal bleeding. The next 1-2 weeks will be critical."

Jongdae absorbed the information quickly. "What's the current treatment plan?"

"We've got him on IV antibiotics to prevent infection," the doctor replied. "He's also on a pain management regimen and fluids to keep him hydrated. We'll monitor him closely for the next few days to ensure no complications arise. Once we're in the clear, we can focus on his longer-term recovery."

Jongdae nodded, his medical instincts kicking in. "Good. He'll need to be under strict observation, especially in the first two weeks. No stress, no unnecessary movement. Keep him sedated as much as needed—he'll want to fight it, but we can't risk him aggravating the wound."

Heechul listened carefully, watching the exchange flow between the two doctors. He could see the way Jongdae's face tightened with worry. Despite being a professional, it was clear that the sight of Chanyeol lying so still had shaken him.

"How's he holding up mentally?" Jongdae asked, turning back to the resident doctor.

"He's been in and out of consciousness since the surgery," the doctor said. "But each time he wakes, he's disoriented and tries to move. We've had to sedate him to keep him from tearing the stitches."

Jongdae sighed. "That sounds more like him."

Heechul stepped forward. "What's the timeline for recovery, Jongdae?"

Jongdae rubbed his temples, thinking for a moment before responding. "If we're lucky and there are no complications, he could start to regain his strength in a few weeks. But he'll be weak, probably bedridden for most of that time. We'll need to keep him on a light diet and make sure his body doesn't reject the treatment. Best-case scenario, he's back on his feet in about six weeks, but even then, he won't be fully healed for at least a few months."

Heechul's face tightened. "I see. We'll handle the family business in the meantime. What's important is that he gets better."

Jongdae gave him a pointed look. "Make sure he doesn't get involved in anything too soon. The last thing he needs is stress."

Heechul nodded. "Don't worry, we've got it covered."

The resident doctor glanced at Chanyeol one last time before closing the medical chart. "I'll be monitoring him closely. If there are any changes, you'll be the first to know."

Jongdae thanked him, then turned back to the bed where Chanyeol lay in a deep sleep. He placed a hand on Chanyeol's arm, feeling the faint warmth of life still flowing through his cousin.

"You better pull through this," Jongdae whispered. "I need you. Your family needs you."

Heechul watched silently, his expression unreadable. Jongdae stood there for a moment longer before finally stepping back. They both knew that the coming days would test their patience, but for now, they had done everything they could.
---

Baekhyun sat in the back seat of the car, his mind racing as the two Mafia soldiers drove him back to the Fire and Light Mafia estate. The morning sun filtered through the windows, but it did little to ease the growing tension in his chest. He hadn't heard from Chanyeol all night, and his gut was twisting with dread. Something was wrong—he could feel it.

As the car pulled up to the entrance of the grand mansion, Baekhyun's heart pounded faster. The soldiers exchanged a glance before one of them opened the door for him. Baekhyun stepped out, his legs shaky but his determination stronger. He didn't wait for the guards to escort him, quickly making his way to the front entrance, his eyes scanning the mansion in desperation.

Kyungsoo stood at the entrance, his face grim. The moment Baekhyun saw him, his heart sank deeper. Something was wrong.

"Baekhyun..." Kyungsoo began, his voice was heavy with concern.

Baekhyun felt his pulse quicken, panic bubbling up. "Where's Don Chanyeol?" he demanded, his voice laced with urgency, though he already feared the answer.

Kyungsoo's eyes dropped for a moment before he looked back at Baekhyun. "Don Chanyeol was shot during the sit-down. He's in the estate hospital now."

Baekhyun's world froze. Shot. The word crashed into him like a tidal wave. His throat tightened, and he felt a cold sweat break out across his skin. For a moment, he couldn't breathe, the room spinning around him.

But he forced himself to stay standing. His knees felt weak, but he clenched his fists, using every ounce of strength to keep control. He couldn't lose it now, not in front of Kyungsoo, not in front of the guards. He swallowed hard, his voice barely steady when he finally spoke. "How bad is it?"

"He's stable now. The surgery was successful, but he's still recovering," Kyungsoo replied softly.

Baekhyun's chest tightened even more, but he nodded, trying to focus on the one thing that mattered: Chanyeol was still alive. He could still see him, still hear him. His thoughts were a whirlwind of panic, anger, and desperation, but he fought to keep it all bottled up. Without another word, Baekhyun turned and sprinted toward the estate hospital, his feet barely touching the ground. Kyungsoo, shocked by the sudden outburst, ran after him, calling out, "Baekhyun, wait!"

Baekhyun's heart was racing as he tore through the corridors, his mind consumed with thoughts of Chanyeol. The need to see him, to know he was okay, was overwhelming. He barely registered Kyungsoo's frantic calls behind him, his focus solely on reaching Chanyeol.

He scanned each area for any sign of Chanyeol. The sight of the doctors and nurses moving with purpose gave him a flicker of hope. He needed to see Chanyeol, to be reassured that he was still fighting.

Kyungsoo caught up, breathless, but kept a respectful distance, knowing how important this moment was for Baekhyun.

As Baekhyun rushed through the hallway of the hospital, he wasn't paying attention to where he was going. He collided hard with someone just coming out of the private ward. Strong hands caught him before he could stumble, holding him steady.

Baekhyun blinked, momentarily disoriented not just by the near fall, but by the speed in the way the person grabbed him. He felt a sudden wave of comfort wash over him as if that steady grip on his shoulders held more than just support—it felt protective.

"Do—Doctor Jongdae?" Baekhyun stammered, instantly recognizing the person who had stopped him from falling. There was a subtle tension in the air, but Jongdae quickly cleared his throat, loosening his grip.

"Baekhyun," Jongdae replied, his voice calm yet surprised. There was a flicker of familiarity in the way he said his name and the connection between them was clear.

Behind them, Heechul watched the exchange with raised eyebrows, momentarily caught off guard. He wasn't aware that the two knew each other so well. Something in the way Jongdae held Baekhyun, firm but caring, made him wonder just how deep their connection ran.

Baekhyun, trying to compose himself, looked up at Jongdae with desperate eyes. "Don Chanyeol... how is he? Is he okay? Please, tell me he's alright."

Jongdae's expression softened slightly, though the seriousness of the situation was still reflected in his eyes. "He's stable, Baekhyun," he said, his tone reassuring but measured. "The surgery was successful, and he's resting now. It was close, but he's going to recover. No major organs were damaged."

Baekhyun let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, his heart pounding in his chest. "Stable..." he repeated, relief washing over him. "That's good, right?"

Jongdae nodded, keeping his gaze steady on Baekhyun. "Yes, he's lucky. But he's heavily sedated, and it'll take time for him to regain his strength."

Baekhyun's eyes glistened with emotion as he processed the news. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. "I need to see him," he said softly, his voice trembling with a mixture of relief and fear.

Jongdae gave a small nod, stepping aside to allow Baekhyun through. "He's still unconscious, but being there might help."

Heechul, who had been watching quietly from behind, gestured for Baekhyun to follow. Jongdae, with his usual calm demeanor, followed  Baekhyun down the corridor toward Chanyeol's room. The weight of what Baekhyun had just heard began to settle in as they walked, but his only focus now was seeing Chanyeol.

When they reached the door to the private ward, Jongdae pushed it open gently, allowing Baekhyun to step inside. As Baekhyun stepped into the room, his breath caught in his throat. Chanyeol lay there, pale and still, surrounded by monitors that beeped rhythmically. The sight of him, so strong and alive just days ago, now lying unconscious, sent a wave of emotion crashing over Baekhyun. His legs felt weak, and he took a shaky step closer to the bed.

His chest tightened as he reached for Chanyeol's hand, his fingers trembling as they gently brushed against Chanyeol's still ones. The weight of everything—Chanyeol's near-death, the fear, the uncertainty—hit him all at once. His vision blurred, and before he could stop himself, tears began to spill down his cheeks, hot and unrelenting.

"Chanyeol..." Baekhyun whispered, his voice breaking as the tears fell faster. "How did this happen?"

His sobs grew heavier, his chest heaving as he struggled to contain the flood of emotions. The pain of seeing the man he loved lying helpless, combined with the fear of almost losing him, was too much to bear. "I'm so sorry you are going through such," His body shook as he cried, and the room seemed to close in around him.

Jongdae, who had been standing quietly nearby, watched as Baekhyun broke down. Without a word, he stepped forward and pulled Baekhyun into a hug, wrapping his arms around him tightly. The embrace was firm, warm, and full of understanding.

"It's okay," Jongdae murmured, his voice gentle in Baekhyun's ear. "He's going to be alright. You don't have to worry."

As Baekhyun cried into Jongdae's shoulder, Heechul stood frozen, watching the scene unfold before him. The depth of Baekhyun's emotions, the raw pain and heartbreak in his sobs, struck him like a blow to the chest. He hadn't realized it before—how close Baekhyun and Chanyeol had become. He knew they had been spending time together, but this? This was different.

Baekhyun's anguish wasn't just concern for a friend. It was deeper and more personal, and as Heechul watched him collapse into Jongdae's embrace, the truth hit him hard: Baekhyun was in love with Chanyeol.

The realization left Heechul momentarily stunned. He'd known Chanyeol for years, seen him navigate dangerous alliances, betrayals, and power struggles, but he'd never seen this side of him—the side that could inspire such deep affection from someone like Baekhyun. And Baekhyun, so fragile in this moment, was pouring his heart out, revealing a love Heechul had never anticipated.

Heechul's mind raced. He had thought of Baekhyun as someone under the watch of Chanyeol from the day he took the oath of Omertà, but he hadn't realized just how close they had become—close enough to love each other. He hadn't seen the signs, hadn't picked up on the intimacy that must have grown between them. To him, Chanyeol had always seemed so guarded, so careful with his personal life. Chanyeol never falls in love, it's not his thing. But here was Baekhyun, crying as though his whole world had crumbled at the thought of losing Chanyeol.

Unbelievable.

Heechul's eyes flicked to Chanyeol's unconscious form. The Don, the man who commanded respect and fear, was at the center of all this emotion. How had he not seen it? How had Chanyeol managed to let someone so deeply into his life without anyone noticing? The surprise gnawed at Heechul, leaving him speechless for a moment as he tried to process the depth of Baekhyun's feelings.

Baekhyun's sobs began to quiet, and as Jongdae continued to comfort him, Heechul's mind settled on one clear thought: Baekhyun wasn't just a bystander in Chanyeol's life anymore. He was in love with him—deeply, irrevocably in love.

Heechul took a slow breath, his eyes softening as he gazed at Baekhyun. Whatever came next, this was no longer just about Chanyeol's recovery or the Family's business. Baekhyun's love for Chanyeol was now part of the equation, and it added a layer of vulnerability that Heechul hadn't expected.

Stepping closer, Heechul placed a hand on Baekhyun's back, his voice quiet and uncharacteristically gentle. "Baekhyun... we'll do everything we can. He's strong. He'll make it through this."

Baekhyun sniffled, still leaning against Jongdae, but he nodded, his tears slowly drying. The love that Heechul had just discovered was written all over his face. There was no denying it anymore.

Jongdae pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on Baekhyun's shoulders as he looked at him with soft, understanding eyes. "You're not alone in this, Baekhyun," he said quietly. "Chanyeol will need you when he wakes up. But for now, take it one step at a time."
---

Baekhyun left the ward alongside Jongdae, his steps lighter and his expression calmer. The heavy weight of fear had lifted slightly, replaced by a sense of hope. Chanyeol was still fighting, and that gave Baekhyun the strength to keep moving forward.

As they stepped into the reception area, Baekhyun spotted Kyungsoo sitting patiently in one of the chairs. The moment Kyungsoo noticed them approaching, he quickly stood up, his usual calm demeanor in place but with an undercurrent of concern in his eyes. He walked up to them, bowing politely to Jongdae in greeting.

Jongdae returned the bow with a soft nod, smiling as he placed a reassuring hand on Kyungsoo's shoulder. "Golden Chef, I presume," Jongdae said with a gentle smile, calling him by the nickname Chanyeol often used.

Kyungsoo let out a small chuckle, a rare smile tugging at his lips. The sight of Jongdae's calm demeanor and Baekhyun looking more at ease seemed to bring a sense of relief. "Good to see you're all smiling. Does that mean Don Chanyeol is going to be okay?"

Jongdae nodded softly. "Yeah... he's strong. He'll pull through."

After a brief conversation, Jongdae motioned to his car parked outside. "Let me see you off," Baekhyun offered, walking with him towards the entrance.

Once they reached the car, Jongdae turned to Baekhyun with a concerned but affectionate gaze. "Baekhyun, how is your mother?"

"She's better now," Baekhyun replied, offering a faint smile. "She's resting at home."

"That's good to hear. I'll drop by to see her before heading over to the hospital," Jongdae said, handing Baekhyun his business card. "And take care of Chanyeol, okay? He'll need all the support he can get. Call me if there's anything—anything at all."

Baekhyun nodded, grateful for Jongdae's words and his presence. "I will. Thank you, Doctor Jongdae."

With that, Jongdae gave Baekhyun a soft smile, waved him goodbye, and slipped into his car. Baekhyun watched as Jongdae drove off, feeling a bit more at ease knowing someone as capable and trustworthy as Jongdae was around.

As Baekhyun stood there, watching the car disappear down the road, Kyungsoo approached quietly, his steps light but steady. "You ready to head back?" he asked, his tone soft and understanding.

Baekhyun nodded the weight of everything still lingering but not as overwhelming as before. Together, he and Kyungsoo walked side by side, making their way back to the main mansion, the tension of the night slowly beginning to dissipate.

As Baekhyun and Kyungsoo made their way towards the main house, Baekhyun couldn't help but notice the soldiers throwing subtle side glances his way. Some of them, particularly the female soldiers, whispered among themselves, eyes flicking up and down in silent appraisal. A few were enamored, admiring his effortless elegance, while others had a trace of envy in their gaze. Baekhyun was used to this, though, and like always, he chose to ignore the attention, keeping his eyes forward as he walked beside Kyungsoo.

When they finally stepped inside the mansion, Baekhyun released a quiet sigh of relief, the air in the house feeling much less charged than outside. Kyungsoo, ever the observer, glanced at Baekhyun. "Have you had breakfast yet?" he asked, his voice casual but caring.

Baekhyun shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

Kyungsoo wasn't surprised but still pointed towards the fridge. "There's some fruit salad I made earlier. If you don't want anything heavy."

At the mention of the salad, Baekhyun's expression softened. He made his way to the fridge and smiled when he spotted the freshly made fruit salad. It was colorful, and vibrant, and looked incredibly refreshing. "This will do," he murmured, grabbing a bowl.

Kyungsoo gave a small, satisfied nod as Baekhyun took the bowl, but didn't say much more. He could tell Baekhyun needed some time alone, so he left him to it, heading off to tend to his tasks for the day.

Baekhyun, meanwhile, ascended the stairs with his fruit salad in hand. The house was quiet, save for the soft padding of his footsteps. When he finally entered his bedroom, a moment of peace settled over him. As he walked past his closet, though, something caught his eye—stacks of shopping bags from yesterday. He paused, his eyes lingering on them, and for a brief moment, a smile crossed his face.

He remembered the shopping trip with Chanyeol before everything went wrong, the memory of Chanyeol treating him to all those things bringing a soft warmth to his chest. But that warmth was quickly replaced by an ache as the smile faded. The reality set in. The man who bought those items was now lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life.

Baekhyun turned away from the bags, the joy from the memory tainted by the present situation. He made his way to the bed, sitting on the edge as he chewed quietly on the salad, his thoughts drifting back to Chanyeol. His mind was a swirl of hope and fear, the uncertainty gnawing at him.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed on the bed, shaking him from his thoughts. He glanced over at the screen and saw his mother's name displayed. Baekhyun hesitated, gripping his phone tightly as he wiped the lingering tears from his cheeks. He didn't want to tell her—not like this. Baekhyun sighed, preparing himself for the conversation.

"Hey, Mom," he said softly, trying to keep his voice steady, but the weight of everything felt like it was pressing down on him all at once.

"Baekhyunnie," her voice came through, gentle and concerned. "How are you? Have you spoken to Chanyeol yet?"

The question hit him harder than he expected. His throat tightened, and he bit his lip, trying to hold back the emotion welling up inside him. "Mom..." Baekhyun's voice cracked, and before he could stop it, the tears started to spill over. He brought a hand to his face, covering his mouth to muffle the sob that escaped. "I... I haven't spoken to him."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and when his mother spoke again, her voice was softer, more worried. "Baekhyun, sweetheart, what's going on? You said Chanyeol wouldn't just ignore you like this."

"Mom..." Baekhyun's voice wavered, barely able to get the words out. "Chanyeol... Chanyeol was shot."

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line. For a moment, his mother didn't say anything, the weight of his words sinking in.

"What?" she finally whispered, her voice filled with disbelief. "Baekhyun, what are you saying? Shot? Is he... is he alright?"

"He's in the hospital," Baekhyun said quickly, trying to hold back the sob threatening to rise again. "They did surgery, and he's stable, but... but it was bad, Mom. He's still unconscious."

Another heavy pause. Baekhyun could hear his mother's sharp intake of breath, the shock settling in. "I'm so sorry my darling...Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she asked, her voice trembling with both worry and frustration. "Baekhyun, you shouldn't go through this alone."

"I... I didn't know," he stammered, tears falling once more. "I didn't want to believe it myself. But I knew something was off."

His mother's voice cracked, but she stayed strong for him. "He's going to pull through, Baekhyun. You have to believe that. And you'll be there for him when he wakes up."

Baekhyun nodded even though she couldn't see him, trying to push back the overwhelming fear gnawing at him. "I will," he said softly. "I'll be right here."

Baekhyun's mother hesitated for a moment before softly adding, "By the way, Baekhyun, Doctor Kim Jongdae came by earlier to check on me. He just left not too long ago."

Baekhyun blinked, feeling a small sense of relief knowing that Jongdae was still looking out for his family despite everything. "He did?" he sniffled, his voice shaky but calmer.

"Yes," his mother replied.

They exchanged a few more words, his mother trying to comfort him as best she could from afar. When the call ended, Baekhyun lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts swirling around everything that had happened. Even though the weight of the situation still pressed down on him, his mother's words—along with the memory of Jongdae's calming presence—offered a sliver of comfort.

He wiped his tear-streaked face, feeling just a little bit stronger. For Chanyeol, for himself, he had to keep going.

~
~
~

Jackson Wang had been trying to reach Minseok ever since the disastrous sit-down, his calls ringing out, unanswered, one after another. Minseok had been dodging them, knowing full well the reason Jackson wanted to talk, but today, the pressure had mounted too high to keep avoiding it. The gunshots, the betrayal, and the chaos from that night left Jackson restless and furious. Minseok was no better, barely holding himself together.

Finally, Minseok's phone buzzed again—Jackson's number flashing on the screen. With a reluctant sigh, he picked it up, bringing the phone to his ear without a word.

"Minseok," Jackson's voice crackled through the line, sharp and impatient. "We need to talk."

"I'm not in the mood for this right now," Minseok replied, voice heavy with fatigue.

Jackson's tone dropped, laced with authority. "This isn't a request. We meet, in an hour. You know where."

Minseok clenched his jaw. "Fine."

The next hour, Minseok drove to the meeting spot—a half-completed building on the outskirts of the city. It was a massive, looming structure, a project too large and ambitious to be overlooked. The construction site was silent, except for the low murmur of voices from Jackson's men patrolling the area.

As Minseok's car pulled to a stop, two guards approached swiftly, their faces stern. One of them knocked on his window, gesturing for him to step out. Minseok complied, maintaining a calm exterior. One of the men patted him down, running his hands over Minseok's torso, legs, and arms, searching for any concealed weapons. When they found him clean, one of them pressed a finger to the earpiece in his ear.

"He's clean," the guard muttered.

There was a brief pause before Jackson's voice filtered through the earpiece. "Let him through."

Minseok was led inside the building, the cold air biting at his skin as they ascended through the concrete skeleton of the structure. On the second floor, Jackson sat at a makeshift table, surrounded by the soft glow of several burning barrels. The acrid smell of smoke and cheap cigarettes filled the air. Around him, his men were busy counting cash—bundles of it spread out over wooden crates. The remnants of their recent drug deal were scattered, and the scene reeked of a successful yet dirty business.

Jackson glanced up from his cigarette as Minseok approached. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, his lips curling into a slight smirk. "You finally came."

Minseok didn't bother with pleasantries. His voice was cold, indifferent. "Go straight to the point."

Jackson's smile faltered, his eyes narrowing as he leaned forward slightly. "I'd appreciate a little respect, Minseok. No matter how things stand between us, I'm still a Don."

Minseok's lips thinned, his expression unwavering. "Respect? I only give that to Park Chanyeol. Even though, right now, he may not deserve it."

Jackson's eyes flashed with irritation, but he let it slide. "Sit down."

Minseok remained standing for a moment before finally lowering himself onto a chair opposite Jackson. The scent of burning tobacco was suffocating, mingling with the bitter cold air of the unfinished building. Jackson's men, guns slung across their shoulders, stood around the room, watching with quiet vigilance. The tension was thick, the unspoken violence hanging in the air like a storm ready to break.

Minseok crossed his arms, his gaze hard as he met Jackson's eyes. "Why did you call me here?"

Jackson stubbed out his cigarette, the embers glowing faintly in the darkened space. "I want to know why your people tried to shoot me at the sit-down."

Minseok's brows furrowed, genuinely confused. "My people? That wasn't us. We had nothing to do with that."

Jackson's jaw clenched as he pointed a finger at him. "You expect me to believe that? That shooting wasn't an accident. I barely got off the plane and went straight to the sit-down. There was no time for me to orchestrate an attack. That was someone from your side, trying to kill me."

Minseok's heart sank, but his face remained impassive. "Why would I want you dead?"

Jackson leaned back, his eyes hard and calculating. "I don't care what your reasoning is, Minseok. Someone in your camp wanted to make sure I didn't leave that meeting alive."

Minseok gritted his teeth, anger bubbling beneath the surface. "I don't know who it was, but it sure as hell wasn't me nor my men."

Jackson let out a slow breath, nodding slightly as he assessed the truth in Minseok's words. "If I find out you're lying to me, it won't end well for you."

Minseok stared back, his expression cold. "I'm not lying. Now, if there's nothing else, I've got my problems to deal with."

Jackson watched him for a long moment before finally waving him off. "Fine. But this conversation isn't over."

Minseok stood, ready to leave, but before he could take a step, Jackson's voice cut through the air, calm but with a hint of something darker underneath.

"Don Zico is dead."

Minseok froze, his back still to Jackson, processing the words. His mind raced, but outwardly, he remained composed. Slowly, he turned to face Jackson, his expression hard, hiding any flicker of emotion.

"I don't understand," Minseok said, his voice flat, eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"

Jackson took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke before leaning forward slightly, his gaze never leaving Minseok. "What's there not to understand? I'm telling you, Zico's dead. Shot yesterday. You didn't see him?"

"Shot?" Minseok repeated, his voice betraying nothing. "Yesterday was chaos. I didn't have time to check who got hit and who didn't. It's a pity, but... there's nothing anyone can do now."

Jackson watched him carefully, eyes sharp as he stubbed out his cigarette. "Nothing anyone can do?" he echoed, his tone dangerously low. "You better hope you didn't have a hand in Zico's death. His Mafia family will come for you and your people. The fire and the fury... you know what that means. You'd better be ready."

Minseok's lips curled into a tight smile, but his eyes were cold as he turned to face Jackson fully. "Is that a threat?"

Jackson smirked, waving his hand dismissively. "A threat? No. Just a reminder. We attended a sit-down, and one of the Dons didn't make it out alive. That means someone in this room orchestrated the attack. We better start talking, because I know it wasn't me." He leaned back, arms draped over the back of his chair. "I don't reside here, Minseok. I came into this country just for this fucking sit-down. So, if there's anyone who had time to plan an ambush, it wasn't me."

Minseok's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, letting the tension thicken in the room. After a long pause, he spoke again, his voice steady and measured. "It's a pity what happened to Don Zico. I'm sorry for his family, but we had nothing to do with his death."

He turned to leave again, but Jackson's voice called after him, his words like a sharp blade.

"Are you still planning on eliminating your Don? If you want to go through with it, let me know. I'll assist you." Don Jackson leaned back in his chair, a cigarette dangling lazily between his fingers, he continued, "By the way, how's your Don, Park Chanyeol, coping with those gunshot wounds, Minseok?"

Minseok's eyes widened for a split second, caught off guard by the question, but he quickly composed himself. He turned slowly, his eyes locking with Jackson's. "How did you know about that?" he asked, his voice calm but laced with tension.

Jackson exhaled a slow cloud of smoke, his lips curling into a sly grin. "I have my ways of finding out things," he said, tapping the ash off the cigarette and ending his sentence with a casual wink.

Minseok's expression hardened as he responded, "Mind your fucking business, Jackson."

Jackson scoffed, leaning forward slightly, his tone dropping to a more menacing edge. "Mind my fucking business when Park Chanyeol is still alive and breathing while my friend is gone? No way. Chanyeol is my business."

Minseok didn't say a word. His expression gave nothing away, but the silence between them was louder than any response he could have given. Jackson raised an eyebrow, waiting, but when no answer came, he gave a small nod, a silent understanding passing between them.

Without another word, Minseok, turned on his heel as he made his way back to his car. The weight of Jackson's question lingered long after he had left the building. His mind raced, unsure of who could've set the ambush, but one thing was certain—Jackson wasn't the only one who had doubts. The situation with Chanyeol was growing more precarious by the day.

And now, Minseok was caught in the middle.
....

Heechul stood outside the ward where Chanyeol lay, his expression tense as he listened intently to Sehun's urgent voice on the phone.

"Baekhyun," Heechul called sharply, turning towards the hallway where Baekhyun stood guard a few feet away. Baekhyun glanced up, his features softening with concern as he approached Heechul.

"Consigliere," Baekhyun bowed in greeting. "You called me," Baekhyun asked, his voice hushed, eyes flickering between Heechul and the closed hospital door.

Heechul gestured for Baekhyun to come closer, his voice low but urgent. "Sehun just called. I will be stepping out for a while. But I need you to stay here and watch over Don Chanyeol."

Baekhyun nodded, his expression serious. "Of course, I'll take care of him. What do you need me to do?"

Heechul's gaze hardened as he leaned in, his voice barely a whisper. "Do not let anyone into that room alone. If anyone—a doctor, nurse, anyone—comes in, you stay in there with them. Don't let Chanyeol out of your sight."

Baekhyun nodded again, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Got it. I won't leave him alone."

Heechul placed a reassuring hand on Baekhyun's shoulder before briskly walking away down the corridor. Baekhyun watched him go, his mind racing with worry for Chanyeol and determination to carry out Heechul's orders.

Once Heechul disappeared from view, Baekhyun returned to his post outside Chanyeol's room. He took a seat on a nearby bench, positioning himself within sight of the door. His senses were heightened, every sound in the hospital corridor making him alert. Baekhyun checked his watch, knowing he had to be vigilant until Heechul or Sehun returned.

With a deep breath, Baekhyun settled in for the wait, his gaze fixed on the door behind which Chanyeol lay, ready to protect his boyfriend at all costs.
....

Minseok gripped the steering wheel tightly as he drove towards the Fire and Light Mafia Estate, his eyes glancing at the commotion outside. By the time he arrived, the news of Don Zico's death had already spread like wildfire. He parked his car and watched through the tinted windows as the Mafia soldiers stood in clusters, murmuring to each other, their expressions tense. Their eyes were glued to their phones, whispering in low voices about the shocking news they'd seen—Don Zico was dead.

As Minseok stepped out of the car and made his way to the hospital, the tension was palpable. Even in the hospital reception, the television blared the latest headlines: "Mafia Leader Don Zico Shot Dead: The Secret Kept by the Wagon Family Unfolds." The announcer's voice was somber, recounting the events that had been hidden overnight by the Wagons, Zico's powerful Mafia family.

"Don Zico was shot dead in what appears to have been a targeted ambush. The incident took place at a secluded location where several high-ranking Mafia members were gathered for a private meeting. Details are scarce, and the family, known as the Wagons, has yet to provide a full account of how the attack occurred. Speculation is rife, but for now, we wait to hear more from the family..."

Minseok paused briefly, his eyes scanning the screen. There was no surprise in his expression; Jackson had already told him everything. Still, the reality of seeing Zico's death broadcast so publicly stirred something in him. He watched the screen for a few seconds, the weight of the situation sinking deeper.

Without a word, he turned away from the reception area and started down the corridor, his footsteps echoing in the otherwise quiet hallway.
....

Ten minutes had passed since Heechul left, and Baekhyun remained on high alert, his gaze flicking between the entrance to the hospital and Chanyeol's door. He ran his hand through his hair, determined to follow Heechul's orders to the letter. The air in the corridor was still, only the occasional footsteps of nurses breaking the silence.

As Baekhyun sat there, he noticed someone approaching, walking with careful, measured steps. His eyes widened slightly as he recognized the man—Sotto Capo Kim Minseok. Minseok kept glancing over his shoulder, checking to see if anyone was following him.

Minseok's sharp gaze landed on Baekhyun as he closed the distance. "What are you doing here?" he asked curtly, frowning.

Baekhyun stood up, bowed in respect, and straightened his posture, facing Minseok head-on. "Consigliere Heechul told me to stay here and look after the Don," he said respectfully but firmly.

Minseok raised an eyebrow, looking past Baekhyun toward Chanyeol's room. "That's good. Okay, I'm here now. Go back to the mansion," he ordered, his tone dismissive. "I'll look after the Don."

A wave of discomfort settled over Baekhyun. Something didn't feel right. He didn't trust anyone to look after Chanyeol, not after what had happened. "I appreciate that, but Consigliere Heechul left me in charge of this. I'd prefer to stay here and make sure nothing happens."

Minseok's gaze darkened as he took a step closer. "Are you challenging my authority, Baekhyun?" he asked, his voice dropping dangerously low.

"With due respect, Sotto, I'm not challenging you," Baekhyun said, swallowing the tension rising in his throat. "I'm just following the instructions Consigliere Heechul gave me. I'll stay here and watch over the Don with you if that's okay."

Minseok's lips curled into a smirk, though there was no warmth behind it. "I'm giving you an order, Baekhyun. Go back to the mansion." His voice grew harsher, colder. "You're not even part of the mafia. You're not a soldier. Who are you to stand here? What are you doing here?" His gaze flickered with disdain. "Oh, right. You're the Don's little plaything. And so fucking what? Get out of my way."

Baekhyun flinched at the insult, but his resolve hardened. "I'm not a plaything and I'm not leaving," he repeated, standing his ground. "I'll stay with you while you check on the Don, but after that, I'll remain here. I was told not to leave him alone, and I won't."

Minseok let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "So you've got some nerve, huh? You think just because you sleep with the Don, you've earned the right to tell me what to do?" His voice dripped with scorn. "You think you've made it?"

Baekhyun shook his head, his expression calm despite the venom in Minseok's words. "Sotto Minseok, Sir, that's not what I meant, and you know it. I'm only doing what I was told to do, by Consigliere Heechul."

Minseok's eyes narrowed, frustration flickering in his expression. He stepped closer, his presence looming over Baekhyun. "I am the underboss. I'm Chanyeol's second-in-command. I have the authority to punish you right now for defying me. Do you know that?"

Baekhyun's heart raced, but he stood his ground. "I know you do. I respect your position, but please, let me do what I was told. I won't get in your way, but I can't leave Don Chanyeol's side."

For a moment, there was a heavy silence between them. Minseok stared at Baekhyun, anger simmering just beneath the surface. But Baekhyun's unwavering gaze met his, the determination clear in his eyes.

Finally, with a grunt of frustration, Minseok stepped back. He shook his head, casting one last glance at Baekhyun. "You've got guts, I'll give you that," he muttered. Minseok entered the room to check on Don Chanyeol with Baekhyun following up on him, and without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving Baekhyun standing there, heart pounding but resolute.

Baekhyun exhaled, his hands slightly trembling from the tension. He had held his ground, but he knew this wouldn't be the last confrontation. He glanced back at Chanyeol, his resolve strengthening even more. He would protect him—no matter what it took.
....

Minseok stormed out of the hospital, his footsteps heavy with anger. His mind raced as he replayed the confrontation with Baekhyun, his teeth grinding in bitterness. Baekhyun, he thought. The nerve of him. Never in a million years had Minseok imagined that the little thing Chanyeol had with Baekhyun would give the latter the audacity to stand up to him—*an Underboss*.

He clenched his fists at his sides, fury bubbling in his chest. To be defied, disrespected, in front of others? By Baekhyun, of all people? He shook his head as if to rid himself of the memory, but the embarrassment lingered.

By the time Minseok reached his car, he was seething. He yanked the door open and sank into the driver's seat, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary. His jaw tightened as he stared through the windshield, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

But this wasn't just about Baekhyun—it was about Chanyeol. Chanyeol had given Baekhyun this courage, this sense of power. That fact made Minseok's blood boil even more. He needed to end this, and quickly.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone, scrolling to a familiar number. His hand shook slightly with pent-up frustration as he pressed the call. The line rang once before it was picked up.

"I think I'm ready," Minseok hissed into the phone, his voice low and dangerous. He stared out into the hospital parking lot, but his thoughts were elsewhere, already imagining the downfall of Chanyeol. "I can't wait to see Chanyeol gone... That man's reign is almost over. Jackson, we'll take him down, and when we do, Fire & Light will be mine."

There was a brief silence on the other end, followed by a soft chuckle.

"Noted," came the voice, calm and confident.

The call ended just as abruptly as it had begun, leaving Minseok alone in the quiet car, his chest heaving with the weight of his decision. The bitterness in his throat tasted sweeter now—this was only the beginning. Soon, everything would be his.
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Author's note 📝

I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. Let me know your thoughts. Thank you.