—Betrayal isn't just a crime—it's a death sentence paid with trust, loyalty, and blood.—

****

Consigliere Kim Heechul gripped the steering wheel, his mind racing as he drove toward the private mansion. Sehun's call had been urgent, and Heechul wasn't one to waste time. He had dealt with enough betrayal in this world to know that something serious had happened. The mansion loomed ahead, and as he drove into the premises, he noticed Hawk standing within the premises, waiting. Beside him in a wheelchair was Kim Jongin, who had been staying at the mansion for protection. Little Kyoong was playing nearby, completely unaware of the darkness surrounding the adults.

Heechul stepped out of his car. The sun was low, casting long shadows as he made his way inside the mansion. Hawk and Jongin bowed to him in respect. As he entered, Sehun greeted him with a respectful bow.

"Where is he?" Heechul asked, his tone curt as his eyes scanned the premises, already knowing who he was referring to—the assassin.

Sehun motioned for Heechul to follow him to the elevator. "This way." They both stepped inside, and Sehun pressed the button for the underground level. The descent was tense, the hum of the elevator the only sound as they prepared to confront the man responsible for the latest threat. Heechul knew that this was far from over, especially considering the history between Moon Dae-Jung and Don Chanyeol.

When the elevator doors slid open, the smell of blood and sweat greeted them. The assassin sat slumped in a chair, his hands and feet bound. His face was bruised and swollen from the beating Sehun had delivered earlier. The dim lights flickered, casting shadows on the cracked cement walls.

Sehun gestured towards the man. "This is him, he confessed. Moon Dae-Jung sent him to kill Don Chanyeol."

Heechul froze for a second, processing the gravity of the revelation. Moon Dae-Jung had already caused enough trouble with his unpaid debt of 20 million dollars, 18 of which he had managed to deliver. The remaining 2 million, along with the extra 5 million penalty for his delay, had pushed Don's patience to the limit. Heechul had been there when they broke Moon's fingers as a warning. It wasn't enough.

"You're sure?" Heechul asked, narrowing his eyes as he stepped closer to the assassin. "Tell me again," Heechul demanded, his tone sharp. "Who sent you?"

The assassin swallowed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Moon Dae-Jong," he croaked. "He... he paid me to do it."

Heechul stood up straight and exchanged a glance with Sehun, the weight of the situation settling between them. Sehun hadn't been there when they broke Moon's fingers, but Heechul knew the retaliation had been brewing.

"We need to inform Don Chanyeol," Heechul said, his voice low, almost a whisper, out of earshot of the assassin. They couldn't let the man know the full extent of Chanyeol's condition. His injuries were still healing from the recent shooting, and they couldn't afford to show weakness—not yet.

Heechul turned to Sehun. "For now, treat his wounds. Give him food and water, he can as well freshen up, but keep him locked in here. No contact with Moon Dae-Jung until Don Chanyeol is ready to handle him. Moon cannot know his assassin was captured. Not a word. Make sure one of the resident doctors in the estate checks on him regularly—he's no good to us dead."

Sehun nodded. "Understood."

"I'll need Hawk's help to free him from the restraints," Sehun added. "If I do it alone, he might try something."

"Do it," Heechul responded. "But make sure he stays in this room. When Don Chanyeol is ready, we'll deal with Moon Dae-Jung."

With that, Heechul turned, his coat swaying as he walked back toward the elevator, leaving the assassin in Sehun's hands. His mind raced as he prepared to return to the Fire and Light Mafia Estate. There was a storm coming, and it wasn't just about the money anymore.

~
~
~

Jongin had just finished tucking Kyoong into bed at the secret mansion. The little boy snuggled under the blankets, his small fingers clutching his favorite toy. Jongin watched him for a moment, his heart heavy, before gently brushing the hair off his forehead. Kyoong's peaceful breathing was a stark contrast to the chaos outside these walls.

Hawk had just returned from the Fire and Light Estate, carrying a couple of grocery bags as he stepped inside. Jongin with the help of his crutches quickly straightened up and bowed to Hawk, who nodded in return, setting the bags on the kitchen aisle. They moved around the kitchen in a familiar routine, with Hawk starting to unpack the groceries.

"How's Don Chanyeol?" Jongin asked, settling on a stool across from Hawk, his voice carrying concern.

Hawk glanced up, a small smile forming on his lips. "He's getting better by the day. The Don's strong, you know? He'll come around soon."

They shared a chuckle, both appreciating Chanyeol's relentless determination. Even bedridden, the Don had a presence, a strength that neither of them doubted.

Jongin looked at the groceries, raising a brow. "Did you go shopping?"

Hawk shook his head, chuckling. "Didn't have the time, to be honest. Chef Kyungsoo helped with it. I just want to ensure that asshole downstairs has something to eat." Hawk said, referring to the assassin under their watch.

"Oh," Jongin said softly, going quiet. He stared at the counter, fiddling with a piece of bread wrap absentmindedly. Hawk noticed the sudden shift in his demeanor and leaned forward slightly.

"You're not going to ask me about Kyungsoo?" Hawk's voice was teasing but with a hint of curiosity.

Jongin looked up, surprised by the question. "What?"

"You heard me," Hawk repeated, his eyes narrowing playfully. "Aren't you curious how Kyungsoo's doing?"

Jongin sighed, looking away. "I know he's fine."

Hawk studied him for a moment, sensing there was more to this than Jongin was letting on. He nodded slowly, unpacking another item from the bag. "Yeah, Sehun's been good company for him. Always around, keeping him in good spirits."

At that, Jongin's lips thinned, and he mumbled, "That's my problem... Sehun."

Hawk frowned, pausing mid-motion. "What do you mean?"

Jongin hesitated but then shrugged. "I've been gone for long, he may have forgotten me. Besides, I've known for a while that Sehun had eyes for Kyungsoo before the incident. I've just been giving them space. Figured it's what Kyungsoo wants."

Hawk scoffed, shaking his head. "That's nonsense. Man up, Jongin. If Kyungsoo's comfortable with Sehun, so be it. But don't stand on the sidelines like you don't have a say."

Jongin looked down, conflicted. Hawk's words cut through him, making him feel a bit foolish, but it was the truth. Just as the tension between them began to ease, Hawk's phone buzzed loudly on the counter. He glanced at the screen and frowned, immediately picking it up.

"Yeah?" Hawk's voice was sharp as he listened to the other end of the line, his expression darkening. Jongin watched him closely, sensing that whatever call this was, it wasn't good. Hawk's eyes flicked to Jongin, his jaw tightening.

"I'll be there soon," Hawk said before hanging up abruptly. Hawk turned to Jongin. "We need to go to the morgue," he said, his voice steady but grim. Jongin froze, his eyes wide with fear. "They found someone... we need to identify him."

The drive to the morgue was tense, the air thick with unspoken worry. Jongin stared out the window, lost in his thoughts, dread gnawing at him. Hawk didn't say much, but his grip on the steering wheel tightened as they neared the destination.

Inside the morgue, the sterile smell hit them both hard, but it was the sight of the body under the white sheet that sent a chill down their spines. The attendant pulled back the cover, revealing the lifeless face of Mr. Jisoo, Kyoong's grandfather.

Jongin's legs buckled beneath him. He stumbled forward, barely catching himself against the cold metal table if not for his crutches. "No, no, no..." His voice cracked, and before he knew it, tears were streaming down his face. Mr. Jisoo, a man who had only been trying to help Jongin during his most vulnerable time, didn't deserve this.

Hawk stood beside him, jaw clenched. He knew exactly who was behind this—Minseok. The ruthless efficiency, the message sent—it was all too familiar. Hawk didn't need to say it, but Jongin already knew. This was no accident; this was a warning, a punishment for those who dared to cross Minseok.

Jongin collapsed in despair, his sobs filling the cold, sterile room. Hawk remained silent, his eyes fixed on Mr. Jisoo's lifeless body, his mind already calculating what needed to be done next.

~
~
~

Chanyeol's recovery from the gunshot wound in his abdomen was a slow and grueling process. Just a few days had passed since the incident, but it felt like weeks, each day marked by pain that ebbed and flowed in sharp, burning waves. The hospital room was quiet except for the steady beeping of machines and the soft rustle of curtains as the wind shifted outside. Despite the stillness, there was a tension in the air—a reminder of the violence that had brought Chanyeol to this bed.

Baekhyun had barely left his side, his presence a steady comfort in the otherwise sterile, white-walled room. He hovered close, always watchful, his eyes tracking every movement of the Don. Chanyeol could see the worry etched into Baekhyun's face, though he tried to hide it behind soft smiles and light-hearted jokes. But the concern was there, lingering in the corners of his eyes, in the way he adjusted the blankets over Chanyeol's body, ensuring he was comfortable.

"Don't strain yourself," Baekhyun would say, his voice gentle but firm, especially when Chanyeol shifted to sit up. The wound, though stitched up, still throbbed with every movement, a painful reminder of the night it all went wrong. Chanyeol hated feeling weak, and vulnerable. It wasn't in his nature to stay idle, and even now, as his body demanded rest, his mind was already working through plans—thinking about the next steps, about revenge.

Baekhyun knew that look in his eyes too well. He placed a hand on Chanyeol's arm, grounding him. "You need to heal first. There's time for everything else later," he insisted, his voice low but filled with determination. There was no arguing with Baekhyun when he got like this—focused, protective.

As the days turned into a week, Chanyeol's strength slowly returned. The pain lessened, though it never completely went away. Baekhyun had become more than just his companion during this time; he had become Chanyeol's anchor. He ensured the doctors were diligent, and that no one got too close to the Don without Baekhyun's approval. When Chanyeol woke from a restless sleep, it was Baekhyun's face he saw first, his presence as constant as the ticking clock on the wall.

The night was the hardest. The dark hours dragged, and with the quiet came the memories. Chanyeol would feel the ghost of the bullet tearing through his flesh, the chaos of that night flashing in his mind. Baekhyun was there too during those moments, holding his hand, whispering reassurances when the nightmares crept in.

As the second week approached, Chanyeol could move more freely, though each step was still cautious, each breath a reminder of how close he had come to death. But with Baekhyun by his side, his recovery felt possible, the weight of his responsibilities a little easier to bear.
....

The resident doctor was relentless in his efforts to ensure that Chanyeol remained as still as possible during his recovery. Every time Chanyeol made even the slightest move to get up, to test his strength or rip out his stitches, the doctor would arrive like clockwork, sedative syringe in hand. Chanyeol would groan in frustration, eyes sharp with impatience, but the doctor's concern for his patient outweighed any defiance. "You need rest, not bravado," the doctor would mutter, adjusting Chanyeol's IV with practiced hands.

Meanwhile, Jongdae, Chanyeol's cousin, would stop by every few days, to ensure the medical care met his high standards. While Jongdae didn't stay for long, his presence was a reminder that Chanyeol's recovery was personal for the family. He would quietly confer with the resident doctor, his sharp gaze inspecting everything, from the medications to the equipment. He kept visiting each time he could, keeping a close watch on the wound that marred Chanyeol's abdomen, checking for signs of infection, and carefully noting his vital signs. Though their conversations were brief, there was an unspoken understanding between them. Jongdae knew the gravity of Chanyeol's position and what his recovery meant, not just for his health, but for the entire organization. Still, in these quiet moments, it was just the two of them—family, not crime lords.

Minseok, however, had not been able to face Chanyeol since the shooting. As the Underboss, it should have been Minseok's place to stand in for Chanyeol, to take on the weight of leadership in his absence. Instead, Minseok busied himself with everything else—coordinating operations, overseeing the soldiers, and ensuring the family's business ran smoothly. Yet he avoided the hospital room as much as possible, guilt gnawing at him. He hadn't been able to protect Chanyeol during the sit-down, and now, seeing the Don vulnerable, bedridden, only served as a painful reminder of that failure.

Each time Minseok came by, he lingered outside the door, hesitant to go in. When he finally did, he kept his visits brief, speaking to Baekhyun or the doctor more than Chanyeol himself. He couldn't look the Don in the eye, not after everything that had happened. The weight of his inadequacy hung over him like a cloud, and he couldn't shake it.

In contrast, Heechul stepped in where Minseok faltered. Despite his role as consigliere, Heechul had always been more than just an advisor—he was the voice of reason, the man who had Chanyeol's back in ways others couldn't. With Chanyeol weakened and unable to lead, it was Heechul who took on the mantle of control. He dealt with the family's affairs, made the hard decisions, and ensured that nothing went unnoticed. In these crucial weeks, Heechul was the one holding everything together, stepping into the leadership role with the ease and confidence that Minseok lacked.

Heechul would sit beside Chanyeol, keeping him updated on what was happening outside those hospital walls. He spoke calmly, reassuring the Don that everything was under control. And in those moments, Chanyeol didn't have to worry about anything. He could let go of the burdens that normally weighed him down, trusting that Heechul had things covered. It was Heechul who made sure that the right people stayed in line, that their enemies didn't see weakness, and that the delicate balance of power remained intact.

Where Minseok had avoided the responsibility that came with Chanyeol's injury, Heechul embraced it fully. He never hesitated to stand at the forefront, keeping the family's operations smooth while Chanyeol recovered. But even as Heechul took charge, Chanyeol couldn't help but notice the distance between him and Minseok. It was a silence that spoke louder than any words, and one that Chanyeol knew he would have to address—once he was strong enough.
---

It had only been three weeks since Don Park Chanyeol's narrow escape from death, and the hospital room had become a temporary command post. Chanyeol, despite his wounds and the doctors' warnings to rest, remained deeply entrenched in the affairs of the Fire and Light Mafia family. His body ached from the injury, but his mind was still as sharp as ever. Bandaged and confined to his bed, his thoughts often returned to the moment of the shooting—the flash of gunfire, the chaos, and the searing pain that followed. But today, Consigliere Heechul had come with news that made his discomfort seem trivial.

Heechul stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back, his usual calm demeanor hiding the gravity of what he was about to say. "Don Chanyeol," he began, his voice low. "We have the man who shot you. Sehun captured him."

Chanyeol's eyes narrowed, focusing intently on Heechul despite the throbbing pain in his side. His breathing became shallow as the memories of the betrayal resurfaced. He didn't need to ask who the man was—he already knew it had been a calculated hit, not a random act of violence.

But Heechul wasn't done. He took a deep breath and continued, "There's more. Don Zico didn't survive the attack. He died in the crossfire."

Chanyeol's heart sank at the news. Despite the rivalry and the tension that had always existed between him and Don Zico, Chanyeol had never wished for his death. A fellow Don, a leader of men, even an enemy, deserved more than to die in the confusion of a shootout. He felt a pang of guilt, his jaw tightening as he processed the loss. Zico's disdain for him had been clear, but death was never supposed to be the outcome.

"I never wanted this," Chanyeol muttered, his voice softer than usual, as he stared out at the hospital's dim ceiling. He shifted in his bed, grimacing at the pain, but it was nothing compared to the weight of responsibility now pressing on his chest. "I would've never wished death upon him."

Heechul nodded, understanding the complicated emotions swirling inside the Don. "It's unfortunate. But now, we have other matters to address. What do you want done with the shooter? And Moon Dae-Jung..."

At the mention of Dae-Jung's name, Chanyeol's expression hardened. He was now aware that Moon Dae-Jung had orchestrated the hit, and though he was still bedridden, his authority remained absolute. He straightened slightly, wincing as he shifted his weight. His voice, though hoarse, carried the familiar command that had always marked his leadership.

"First, find Moon Dae-Jung, and take him to hell," Chanyeol ordered, his eyes cold. "We deal with him before anything else. If we don't, we risk letting him slip away, and that could be a bigger mess. He's behind this, and we need to make sure he doesn't get another chance."

Heechul nodded solemnly. "And the shooter?"

Chanyeol exhaled, the decision already clear in his mind. "I will think about what to do with him. Take him to hell too,"

The room fell into a heavy silence as Don's instructions hung in the air. Chanyeol's eyes momentarily closed the exhaustion of both his injury, the medication, and the weight of the decisions bearing down on him. Heechul quietly excused himself, knowing there was nothing more to say for now. The wheels had been set in motion.

~
~
~

The night was still and heavy with silence as Moon Dae-Jung and his family settled in for the evening, unaware of the storm that was about to hit their home. The estate, usually heavily guarded, now stood vulnerable. The guards stationed outside had been swiftly and quietly dealt with—each one was taken down by snipers armed with silencers from the shadows. The shots were precise, leaving no chance for alarm, no time for anyone to notice until it was far too late.

Inside the house, the atmosphere was tranquil, but there was no warning before the front door creaked open, soundlessly pushed by the gloved hands of the masked intruders. Dressed in black from head to toe, their identities were completely concealed—no logos, no markings, nothing that could trace them back to any organization. Even their faces were hidden beneath black masks, leaving no clue as to who they were or who had sent them.

The family didn't notice at first, but as Dae-Jung's wife moved through the hallway, she caught a glimpse of the shadowy figures stepping into the living room. Her heart froze, and she immediately screamed, rushing to her husband's side.

Dae-Jung shot up from his seat, his hands bandages from his broken fingers, but his little attempt to reach for the gun on the nearby table was thwarted. A swift kick from one of the intruders sent the weapon skidding across the floor, far out of reach. The men moved in, efficient and silent, as the fear in the room became suffocating.

"Don't hurt us, please!" his wife cried, clutching her young child close to her chest, trembling. Tears streamed down her face as she looked at the masked men. "Please don't hurt him... don't kill him! Please, we'll do anything—just don't hurt my family!"

Her pleas were met with cold indifference. The intruders said nothing. They were there for one reason and one reason only—Moon Dae-Jung. His family was inconsequential to them. There was no exchange of words, no threats, no demands. They ignored her completely, their black masks hiding any hint of emotion as they focused solely on their target.

Hawk, leading the group, stepped forward. His eyes, hidden behind the black mask, were locked on Dae-Jung, who sat frozen in place. Without a word, Hawk grabbed him by the collar and yanked him to his feet with brutal force. Dae-Jung's wife sobbed louder, but it made no difference. They had no intention of hurting her or their child—but Moon Dae-Jung's fate was sealed.

Dae-Jung tried to resist, his voice shaking as he begged, "Please... I don't know who you are, but you don't have to do this. I can—"

But his words were cut short as Hawk tightened his grip, pulling him toward the door. The rest of the family was left cowering, the cold terror of the moment too much for them to process. Dae-Jung's wife could only watch helplessly, still pleading in vain as her husband was dragged out of their home by the silent intruders.

The black van was waiting outside, the doors open and ready. Hawk shoved Dae-Jung inside without a word, his face still expressionless behind the mask. As they slammed the van doors shut, the silence of the night returned, leaving only the sound of the vehicle's engine rumbling as it disappeared into the darkness.

For Moon Dae-Jung's family, the terror of that night would linger for a long time. The fear of not knowing who had come or where they had taken him would haunt them, but the truth was simple: Dae-Jung had crossed the wrong people, and now, he was being taken to face the consequences.
....

That night, as the black van carrying Moon Dae-Jung disappeared into the shadows, his wife, overcome with terror and dread, did what any desperate wife would do—she dialed the police in a frantic panic. Her hands trembled, her voice breaking as she tried to explain what had just happened.

"They took him! They... they came and just took my husband!" she sobbed into the phone, her words barely coherent through her tears.

By the time the police arrived at their home, it was too late. The Mafia had done their job cleanly and left without a trace. The guards lay dead outside, but inside, it was as if Moon Dae-Jung had vanished into thin air. The only thing that remained was the shattered peace of his family and the haunting silence of what had just transpired.

Detective Kim Junmyeon arrived soon after, his face grim as he took in the scene. He had seen this before—too many times. The methodical execution, the precision of the operation—it all pointed to one thing: this was Mafia business. The Wagons, the Fire and Light family, or any other Mafia family in South Korea, no doubt.

Mrs. Dae-Jung sat in the living room, her face pale and tear-streaked, cradling her young child who clung to her, frightened and confused. She was surrounded by police officers, their questions coming at her from every direction, but her mind was still frozen in shock. Her lips trembled, and she could barely answer, too overwhelmed by the weight of what had happened.

"Ma'am, can you tell us anything about the men? What did they look like? Did they say anything?" one of the detectives asked, his tone urgent but gentle.

She shook her head, her hands gripping her child tighter. "I... I don't know. They were all wearing masks... black. Everything was black. They didn't say a word, they just... just took him..." Her voice cracked as she broke down into sobs once more. "Please, you have to find him! My husband... my husband!"

Her tears flowed freely as she buried her face in her hands, the weight of her grief and fear too much to bear. The room felt suffocating with her cries, but there was nothing the officers could offer her—no comfort, no hope.

Junmyeon's jaw tightened as he exchanged glances with his partner, Detective Zhang Yixing. They had seen enough of these cases to know the truth. The likelihood of finding Moon Dae-Jung was slim, and if they did, it wouldn't be alive. This wasn't an abduction for ransom—it was retribution. Dae-Jung had crossed someone powerful, and now he was paying the price.

Yixing leaned in closer to Junmyeon, whispering, "It's them, isn't it? Fire and Light."

Junmyeon didn't respond immediately, his eyes dark and focused on the grieving woman before him. He had no doubt who was behind this, but saying it aloud wouldn't change anything. They were too late. The machine had already moved, and they were left to pick up the pieces.

"Call forensics, check for any trace. Though I doubt we'll find anything," Junmyeon finally said, his voice filled with frustration. He turned to Mrs. Dae-Jung, speaking softly, "We're doing everything we can. We'll need you to stay here for now. Can you tell us—did your husband have any enemies? Anyone who might've wanted to harm him?"

She shook her head furiously, still lost in her panic. "I don't know! He never... he never mentioned anything like that. He was just... he was just a businessman!"

But Junmyeon rolled his eyes in sarcasm, he knew better. Businessmen didn't attract these kinds of people for no reason. Dae-Jung had gotten involved with the wrong crowd, and now his wife and child were left in the aftermath.

As the hours dragged on, Mrs. Dae-Jung's tears continued to flow, her mind swirling with fear for her husband and what might be happening to him. The detectives and officers scoured the house for any clues, but the Mafia had left nothing behind. No fingerprints, no identifying marks, nothing that could give away who they were or where they had gone.

By the time the police were done, all that was left was the hollow sound of Mrs. Dae-Jung's sobs echoing in the house. She had tried to protect her husband and begged for his life, but in the end, there was nothing she could do. The Mafia had come for him, and they never left empty-handed.

Meanwhile, in the underground lair known only as Hell, Moon Dae-Jung was being escorted through dimly lit corridors. He had no idea what fate awaited him, but deep down, he knew it couldn't be good. His fate was sealed the moment they took him.

Later that night, Sehun stood before Don Chanyeol, bowing deeply as he entered the hospital room.

"Boss," Sehun began, his voice respectful but steady. "It's done. We've taken Moon Dae-Jung. Hawk led the team. It went off without a hitch—no one knows where we came from, no traces left behind."

Chanyeol's eyes darkened at the news, his mind still sharp despite the pain from his gunshot wound. "And the assassin?" he asked, his voice low but filled with intent.

"Both are in Hell as we speak. Sotto Minseok is tending to him. We'll deal with him as soon as we have your instructions." Sehun said.

Chanyeol nodded slowly, his face stern. "Good. Let's finish this. And tell Underboss Minseok—no mistakes."

With that, Sehun bowed again and left, knowing that Moon Dae-Jung's fate was sealed.
....

Moon Dae-Jung's heart raced as they dragged him deeper into the underground complex, known to those in the criminal world as Hell. The dim lights flickered above as the scent of cold steel and damp concrete filled the air. His mind raced with panic, replaying the terrifying scene at his home—the masked men, his wife's desperate pleas.

As they forced him into a chair, the door creaked open, and Hawk entered, his presence commanding attention. Behind him, two soldiers dragged another man into the room, and that's when Dae-Jung's heart nearly stopped. He hadn't known who they were then, but now, as the weight of dread settled in his chest, it began to make sense.

It was the assassin. The very man Dae-Jung had paid to eliminate Don Park Chanyeol a few weeks ago.

The assassin's face was bruised, his clothes torn and bloodied from whatever brutal interrogation he'd endured before being brought here. The sight of him jolted Dae-Jung into a sickening realization: the men who had come for him were from Fire and Light. He recognized the way they moved, the cold precision in their actions, and now it was clear—his attempt to take down Don Chanyeol had failed, and these men had come for retribution.

"Sotto," Hawk said with a slight bow, his voice low and steady as he addressed Minseok, who sat quietly at the far end of the room, watching the scene unfold with a calm but menacing expression.

Hawk turned his attention to Dae-Jung. "We thought you'd want to see him before it's all over." His tone was cold, almost mocking.

Dae-Jung's eyes widened in terror as the assassin was tossed to the ground beside him, groaning in pain. He tried to speak, his mouth opening to form words, but nothing came out. He was too overwhelmed by the shock, the weight of his betrayal, and the inevitability of what was coming next.

"So," Minseok's voice finally broke the silence, his words carrying the authority of a man who held life and death in his hands. "You recognize him, don't you?"

Dae-Jung swallowed hard, his throat dry. He nodded slowly, unable to look Minseok in the eyes. His voice was barely a whisper. "I didn't plan for this to happen... but as Park Chanyeol inflicted pain on me by breaking my fingers, I only wanted to get back at him. To make him back off from me," he stammered, trying to muster any defense he could think of. "It wasn't personal... I was just... I didn't know it would get this far—"

Minseok's sharp laugh cut him off. "Not personal? You sent someone to kill a Don, and you say it's not personal?" His eyes darkened, his voice laced with mockery. "Tell me, what is personal to you, Moon Dae-Jung?"

Dae-Jung's pulse quickened, his hands trembling as he glanced at the assassin, the very man who had failed him and now sat beaten and broken. The man's cold, empty eyes stared back at him, offering no comfort—just a grim reminder of the brutal world he had chosen to enter.

Hawk, standing beside Minseok, stepped forward, his imposing figure casting a long shadow over Dae-Jung. "Don Chanyeol was shot because of you. But unfortunately for you," Hawk sneered, "he survived. And now..." He paused, glancing at the assassin, "We just want to clean up the mess you created."

The assassin groaned as one of the soldiers suddenly kicked him roughly, forcing him to his knees. Dae-Jung's heart sank as he realized the finality of the situation. There would be no escape, no bargaining. The Mafia didn't deal in second chances.
....

Suddenly, Sehun entered the room with a cold, measured stride, his sharp gaze sweeping the underground lair where the grim dealings of Fire and Light were underway. His soldiers stood at attention, clustered near the edges of the dimly lit chamber, but it was the sight of Minseok and Hawk at the center of the room that caught his focus.

Sehun's footsteps echoed softly as he approached Minseok, nodding once in silent acknowledgment. Without a word, he glanced at the scene before him, the tension between the two captives thick enough to choke the air. Dae-Jung's eyes were wild with fear, his breathing shallow and panicked. The assassin, on the other hand, though bloodied and bruised, maintained a grim silence, his eyes fixed forward in steely resolve.

Sehun leaned in close to Minseok, whispering in his ear. Minseok nodded.

Immediately, Minseok stood up, locking eyes with Dae-Jung. "You made two mistakes. First, you came after Don Park Chanyeol. And second... you failed." He let the words hang in the air before he spoke again. "Hawk, bring him to the back."

With the wave of Minseok's hand, the soldiers yanked Dae-Jung and the assassin to their feet. Hawk moved swiftly, signaling to his men to drag both captives to the back of the underground lair, a place where no one was left alive. Dae-Jung's feet barely touched the ground as he was pulled along, the overwhelming fear choking him.

As they reached the hidden chamber, the door slammed shut behind them, sealing their fate. Moon Dae-Jung knew there was no way out, and his mind raced with regret. But the Mafia didn't care about regret—they cared about loyalty, consequences, and keeping their secrets buried deep.

Before anything else could be said, the assassin, now fully aware of his impending doom, turned to Dae-Jung, his voice a broken whisper. "You brought this on us, sending me to go kill a Don for you," he spat through bloodied lips. "I shouldn't have listened to you in the first place."

Hawk raised his hand, silencing them both with a single, lethal glance. "Aish! Too late," he said coldly.

Carrying out the Don's order, "Put them in the glass cell together. Let's play a game." Minseok straightened up and then turned to Hawk, his expression cold and unflinching. "Throw them in."

Hawk motioned to his soldiers, who grabbed Dae-Jung and the assassin and dragged them toward the bulletproofed glass-walled cell. The clank of the heavy door slamming shut behind them echoed through Hell. A small, menacing grin tugged at the corners of Minseok's mouth as he watched Dae-Jung shiver.

Moon Dae-Jung fell to his knees, clasping his hands together in desperation. "I'll give you everything!" he pleaded. "The full payment—I'll pay it now. All! Just let me live, please. I swear I'll disappear! You'll never see me again!"

It's too late for bargaining, Moon," Minseok said, his voice calm but chilling. "Don Chanyeol doesn't care about your money anymore. You crossed the line."

Minseok stepped closer to the glass, his voice loud enough for both men to hear. "Trust me, this game is fun. And I swear we will not kill anyone of you. Nah, we won't. But there are guns inside that drawer, just one bullet. Which means only one gun is loaded with one bullet. Anyone lucky amongst the two of you can grab the right gun and shoot. You've got one choice here. Only one of you is leaving this cell alive. If you want to live, you'll grab the right gun and kill the other."

As Sotto Minseok finished briefing the Mafia members about the twisted game of luck awaiting Moon Dae-Jung and the assassin, the room erupted in dark, mocking laughter. The absurdity of the situation—two men forced into a brutal fight for survival, only one allowed to walk away—amused the seasoned criminals. They reveled in the cruelty of it all, their eyes gleaming with a mixture of disdain and morbid excitement. The tension in the air was palpable, yet their laughter only deepened the sense of dread, knowing that for Dae-Jung and the assassin, it was a game where death was almost certain.

Sehun stood outside the cell, a cigarette hanging loosely between his lips, the sharp scent of tobacco mixing with the tension in the room. He took a slow drag, the embers flaring briefly in the dim light, his sharp eyes fixed on the brutal scene unfolding before him. Smoke curled from his lips as he exhaled, his gaze cold and calculating, reflecting no sympathy for the men about to fight for their lives. His fingers twitched slightly, holding the cigarette with practiced ease, while the others laughed around him.

Dae-Jung's hands trembled violently as he stared at the guns, then at the assassin, his face pale with terror. His breath came in short, panicked gasps. He had never been in a situation like this—where his very life depended on the next few seconds. On instinct, he lunged for the two guns, his shaking hands barely able to grip the cold metal.

But the assassin was quicker, snatching one from him with ease... He wasn't a hitman for nothing.

Before Dae-Jung could grab the weapon, a gunshot rang out, sharp and merciless. The bullet flew straight, embedding itself in the center of Dae-Jung's forehead. His body crumpled immediately, his knees buckling as he collapsed in a lifeless heap on the cell floor. Blood slowly pooled beneath him, staining the cold glass walls with the brutal reality of his fate.

As the assassin lowered his gun, his chest heaving with shallow breaths, Sehun's eyes remained fixed, studying every move. He took another long inhale, the ember glowing brighter before turning to Minseok with a faint nod. Minseok simply nodded in satisfaction before turning to Sehun.

"It's done," Minseok said quietly.

Sehun straightened, pulling out his phone as he stepped away to notify Don Chanyeol. The order had been carried out perfectly. There were no loose ends—only the cold, ruthless efficiency that defined Fire and Light.

As Sehun's voice echoed through the room, delivering the news to Don, his phone pressed to his ear as he listened to Don Chanyeol's voice on the other end. The order was simple, and Sehun's expression hardened as he hung up. He turned to Sotto Minseok, who was already watching him closely.

"The Boss said we should burn Dae-Jung's body," Sehun said, his voice low. "No traces left."

Minseok nodded, signaling Hawk and the other soldiers to start the process. Without hesitation, they moved swiftly, dragging Dae-Jung's lifeless body out of the glass cell. There's no time wasted in the underworld; efficiency is key, and Fire and Light don't leave anything behind that can be traced back to them.

Sehun walked back toward the glass cell, where the assassin was, his breathing labored but controlled. He stood at the doorway for a moment, observing him in silence. Then, in a low, firm voice, he asked, "What's your name?"

The assassin, still processing everything, met Hawk's gaze and answered, "Kang Jihoon." His eyes flickered between the men around him, calculating, unsure of his fate. Sehun nodded.

Minseok, standing at Sehun's side, stepped forward to address the assassin. "You've seen what happens to traitors," Minseok began his voice calm but laced with warning. "You have a choice now."

Sehun cut in, his tone sharp. "Join us, or you'll end up just like Dae-Jung. Burned. Nothing left but bones."

The assassin's eyes widened for a moment as he glanced toward the door where Dae-Jung's body had just been taken. The grim reality of his situation sank in fast, but there was no time for hesitation in a world like this. The thought of being reduced to ashes, erased from existence, made his choice easy.

"I'll join," the assassin said, his voice hoarse but resolute. He swallowed hard, looking at Sehun and Minseok, understanding now that this was no mere offer—it was survival. "I'll work for you."

Sehun exchanged a glance with Minseok, satisfied. The Don's orders had been carried out, and they had gained a new asset in the process.

Minseok nodded. "Good choice," he said, and there was a flicker of something—approval, perhaps—in his gaze. "But know this: betray us, and you'll wish you were dead long before we get to you. Get ready for your initiation."

And with that, Sehun and Minseok left the underground lair, their work complete for the night, leaving only blood and silence behind in Hell.

As the heavy metal doors of Hell creaked open, Kang Jihoon was led out, still dazed by the choice he had just made. A black sack was pulled over his head, shrouding his vision and heightening his disorientation. The cold, damp air of the underground world clung to him, but outside, the night was crisp and cool. Hawk and two soldiers faces still hidden behind their black masks, silently escorted him to the waiting car. No words were exchanged as he was pushed into the back seat, sandwiched between the two soldiers.

The car's engine roared to life, and they sped off into the darkness, leaving Hell behind. Kang Jihoon sat in silence, his mind racing. He had been inches away from death, yet here he was, alive. He could only feel the weight of the decision he had made pressing on him, and the black sack muffled his breathing. Despite the fear still gnawing at him, there was a flicker of gratitude—he had been given another chance to live.

As they approached the towering gates of the Fire and Light estate, the tension in the car eased. The estate loomed ahead, a sprawling fortress of wealth and power. The gates swung open, and the car rolled smoothly onto the cobblestone driveway. Kang Jihoon's heart pounded as he took in the grandeur of the mansion, even if only in his mind's eye, its lights glowing like a beacon in the night.

When the car finally came to a stop, the soldiers led him out, still blindfolded. Once they reached the entrance of the estate, one of the soldiers removed the sack from Kang Jihoon's head, and he squinted against the sudden brightness. This time, he felt less like a prisoner and more like someone on the edge of a new world. They walked him through the estate's grand hallways, past marble floors, and ornate fixtures until they reached a quiet wing of the mansion. A room had been prepared for him—lavish, comfortable, and far from the dark, cold prison he had imagined.

He was offered clean clothes, food, and a bed to rest in. The soldiers left him there, and for the first time in what felt like days, Kang Jihoon exhaled, his body sagging with relief. He had survived. More than that—he had been spared. And now, as he lay on the soft bed, staring up at the ceiling, he realized the weight of his gratitude. He owed his life to Fire and Light.

His initiation would come soon enough. But for now, he was safe, and he had been given something most people in his line of work never got—a second chance. And that, to him, was priceless.

~
~
~
More weeks later...

The heavy oak doors to the home office of Don Park Chanyeol creaked open as Capo Sehun and Consigliere Heechul walked into the room. Minseok was being summoned. The tension was palpable, the air thick with an unspoken expectation. Don Park Chanyeol sat behind his mahogany desk, his face calm but his eyes sharp. The weight of leadership settled around him like a cloak, but the gunshot wound beneath his abdomen made every movement a painful reminder of his vulnerability. Even with his recovery, the cane that rested by his side and the crutches that leaned against the wall were a testament to his struggle.

Chanyeol gestured for Minseok to come in and sit down, his gaze fixed on Kim Minseok, his friend, his Sotto Capo—the underboss of the Fire & Light Mafia family.

Kim Minseok stood near the door, trying to mask his anxiety, but the sharpness of his posture betrayed him. He quietly sat down in front of the Don. He hadn't expected this summon. Not now. Not after everything that had happened.

As Chanyeol signaled for Sehun and Heechul to take their seats, He didn't waste any time on formalities, his dark eyes scanning the faces of the men gathered before him. With a cold, steady hand, Chanyeol reached for a recorder on his desk and pressed play.

The voice that filled the room was unmistakable. It was Kim Minseok, speaking on the phone to Jackson.

"Chanyeol has agreed to the sit-down, I can't wait for the show to begin."

The room fell into silence as the recording played. Minseok's breath caught in his throat. His face drained of color as if every drop of blood had fled from his skin, leaving him pale, trembling slightly.

"I think I'm ready. 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."

Minseok's eyes darted around the room, desperate to find an escape or some explanation, but there was none. Then his gaze fell on Jongin, who had been brought in with Hawk. Completely healed. Jongin's presence added another layer of disbelief to Minseok's expression. For months, he had been hunting Jongin, trying to eliminate him to bury the truth about the missing $50 million worth of cocaine. He thought Jongin was dead, or at least off Chanyeol's radar, but now, seeing him standing under the protection of the Don sent chills down his spine.

Chanyeol's voice cut through the tension like a knife. "Kim Minseok, or should I say Minseok Hyung?" he began slowly, his voice low and dangerous, "do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Minseok stammered, trying to find words. "I-I was just luring Jackson in, Don Chanyeol. I never meant—"

"Never meant to betray me?" Chanyeol's eyes darkened. "What I heard was betrayal, plain and simple. And worse, you've been in contact with Jackville. You know exactly what that means."

Minseok swallowed hard, trying to muster a response. "Don Chanyeol, this... this isn't what it seems. I was only trying to lure Jackson into a trap. I had no intention of betraying you. I swear, it was all part of a larger plan..."

Chanyeol's lips curled into a mirthless smile. "A plan? You call plotting my downfall and my death a plan?"

Minseok stammered, his eyes darting between Jongin, Sehun, Hawk, and Heechul, all of whom were watching him closely. "Don Chanyeol, you have to believe me. I was never going to act on it. I was only saying what Jackson wanted to hear to keep him close. I would never betray you. You know me."

Chanyeol leaned back into his chair, his cane tapping against the floor. "Betrayal is like a knife, Minseok. It only needs to be cut once to do its damage. Whether you acted on it or not, you spoke the words. You aligned yourself with my enemy. You plotted, even in jest, to take me down. That, in this world, is unforgivable."

Chanyeol let the silence hang in the air for a moment, his gaze unrelenting. "All this while, I thought you had mere family issues like you always said, Minseok," he said slowly, his voice laced with venom. "But you've been in contact with Jackville and you know what had transpired between us. You know how much he hates to see me breathe. Yet, you've lied to me, plotted against me, and now you expect me to believe you were just 'playing a game'?"

Chanyeol turned to his Consigliere Kim Heechul. "What's the punishment for betrayal?"

Heechul, ever calm and composed, replied, "It depends, Don. But for a Sotto Capo to betray his Don... the punishment must be severe. Stripping him of his rank, perhaps, but that's just the beginning."

Chanyeol nodded, his decision already made. "Kim Minseok, from this moment forward, you're no longer my Underboss or Sottocapo. Your power within this family is revoked."

Minseok's eyes widened in horror. "Don Chanyeol, please—"

Chanyeol held up a hand, silencing him. "You're lucky I'm not having you killed. But you will live the rest of your life knowing that you failed me, knowing that I spared you."

Chanyeol leaned back in his chair, letting the weight of his last words settle over the room. Minseok's face had drained of color, but Chanyeol wasn't done. His eyes narrowed as he looked at his former underboss, his voice low but sharp.

Minseok opened his mouth to respond, but Chanyeol cut him off.

"I'm not finished with you, Minseok. What about stealing from me?"

Minseok, still reeling from the loss of his rank, looked up at Chanyeol in confusion. He had thought the worst was over, but Chanyeol's expression told him otherwise.

"Oh? You think I didn't know?" Chanyeol continued, his voice cold as ice. "You think I didn't find out what happened with the $50 million? The missing cocaine under Jongin's watch?"

Minseok's eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening to protest, but no words came out.

"Tell me, Minseok," Chanyeol said, his voice dangerously calm. "Who did you connive with? Who did you plan with to steal my $50 million, kill my men, and frame Jongin for death?"

Minseok was speechless. He hadn't expected Chanyeol to know the full story. His mind raced, but he couldn't find an excuse. He had been so careful, so sure that his betrayal would remain hidden.

Chanyeol stood up, gripping his cane, using it for balance as he walked slowly toward Minseok. His steps were deliberate, and controlled, each one echoing in the silence of the room.

"You betrayed me once, Minseok when you stole from me and made me pay for your mess," Chanyeol said, his eyes burning into Minseok. "But that wasn't enough for you, was it? You betrayed me twice—when you plotted with my enemy to get rid of me,"

Minseok opened his mouth to respond, but Chanyeol cut him off, his voice rising. "Do you know what burns me the most? If you had come to me, if you had told me you needed that $50 million, fucking hell I would've given it to you. You know my hands are wide open. We've been in this life together for over ten years. Ten years, Minseok. And this is how you repay me?"

Minseok's face contorted with desperation, his eyes glistening with fear. He fell to his knees, pleading. "Don Chanyeol, please... I didn't— I didn't mean for it to go this far. I had no choice. I was pressured, I—"

"Pressured?" Chanyeol scoffed, his voice cutting through Minseok's pleas. "You made your choices. You could've come to me, but you didn't. Instead, you betrayed your own family."

Minseok's voice cracked as he begged. "I... I'm sorry, Don. I regret it every day. I thought... I thought I could fix it before you found out. I swear, I didn't want to hurt you."

Chanyeol leaned down, his lips inches from Minseok's ears. "But you did hurt me. And you almost cost Jongin his life. What did you think would happen when the truth came out? Did you think I'd spare you? Did you think I'd let this slide?"

Minseok sobbed, trembling under Chanyeol's voice. "Please... Please, Don Chanyeol... Give me another chance."

Chanyeol straightened, looking down at the man who had once been his trusted underboss. "You don't deserve another chance. But I'm not going to kill you, not today."

He paused, letting the words sink in. "You're going to live with the shame of what you've done. You've lost everything, Minseok. Your power, your status, your position in this family—gone. From now on, you'll be at the mercy of those who were once beneath you."

Minseok's shoulders slumped, defeated. He had lost more than he could have ever imagined.
....

Suddenly, Chanyeol turned his gaze to Sehun, who stood at the side of the room, his arms folded, as the tense meeting unfolded. Sehun's sharp eyes stayed focused on Minseok, his mentor for years, who had just been demoted by Don Chanyeol for his betrayal. The air was thick with tension, and Sehun had expected something brutal—a punishment fitting for someone who had betrayed the Don.

What Sehun didn't expect, though, was what came next from the Don.

Chanyeol's expression was unreadable but his tone was unwavering. "Caporigeme Oh Sehun," he said, and the room seemed to grow quieter as if everyone held their breath. "From this day forward, you will take Minseok's place. You are now my new Underboss and Sotto Capo of the Fire & Light Mafia Family."

Sehun's eyes widened, his usual calm demeanor faltering for the first time in the entire meeting. He blinked rapidly, stunned, unable to fully grasp what he had just heard. His mind raced—underboss? Him? The sudden promotion hit him like a punch to the gut, and though he prided himself on remaining composed under pressure, he couldn't hide the shock on his face.

He glanced over at Minseok, who looked utterly defeated. The man who had been his superior, his guide, now stood stripped of everything. Sehun's heart clenched. Despite the betrayal, he couldn't help but feel bad for Minseok, who had served loyally for years before succumbing to greed.

Sehun swallowed hard, trying to suppress the overwhelming mix of emotions—surprise, honor, and guilt. The responsibility that had just been handed to him felt immense, almost too heavy. He knew Chanyeol trusted him, but he wasn't sure he was ready to fill Minseok's shoes. His mind whirled with doubt, but he couldn't refuse the Don's decision.

Chanyeol's eyes never left him, as if daring Sehun to object, but there was no turning back now. With a deep breath, Sehun composed himself, bowing his head slightly in acceptance. "I... I won't disappoint you, Don Chanyeol."

But the shock, the disbelief, still lingered on his face, his thoughts echoing one clear realization—everything had changed in that moment.

Chanyeol turned away from them, gesturing for Hawk and Sehun to escort Minseok out. "Take him away."
....

After Don Chanyeol made his final pronouncement, Minseok stood frozen in shock, his face pale. The room seemed to shrink around him as the weight of what had just happened sank in. He had lost everything—his position, his power, his standing in the Fire & Light Mafia Family. And all because of a betrayal that, at that moment, felt like a distant and foolish mistake. His eyes flitted to Sehun, who stood quietly by the side, still reeling from the shock of his promotion.

Hawk and Sehun moved to escort Minseok out of the office. Hawk's usual smirk was absent, replaced with a look of solemnity. Minseok took a shaky step, his legs feeling heavier than they ever had. As they walked out of the door, Minseok's emotions bubbled over, and he turned to Sehun, his voice low but sharp.

"You knew this was coming, didn't you?" Minseok accused, his eyes flashing with bitterness. "You've been waiting for your moment, waiting for the Don to take me down and hand you the position."

Sehun's heart skipped a beat, the words cutting through the confusion he already felt. His shock at being promoted was still fresh, and the idea that Minseok thought he had seen this coming was far from the truth. Sehun shook his head, his voice quiet but firm. "No, Minseok Hyung. I didn't know. I didn't ask for this."

Minseok's eyes narrowed, his anger boiling over, but then something in his expression shifted. He could see that Sehun was just as surprised as he was. Minseok had known the risks of his actions—he had gambled, and he had lost. Slowly, the anger drained from his face, replaced by a somber resignation. He lowered his head for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

"I... I made mistakes," Minseok admitted, his voice rough with regret. "This isn't your fault, Sehun. It's mine. I lost everything because of my greed." His eyes flicked back to the door, the realization of his fate finally settling in.

Sehun took a step closer, wanting to say something, anything, that could make this less painful for the man he had looked up to for years. "Minseok Hyung, I didn't want it to happen like this. I was as shocked as you were."

Minseok turned away, his shoulders stiff with tension. "Doesn't matter," he muttered, his voice laced with bitterness. "It's done." Without another word, he walked toward the main door, Hawk stepping aside to let him pass. Sehun watched as Minseok left the mansion, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. There had been no outburst, no explosion of anger—just the quiet acceptance of a man who had fallen from grace.

Once Minseok was gone, Sehun felt the tension in his body return tenfold. The reality of his promotion had yet to fully sink in. He had been made Sotto Capo, the second most powerful position in the Mafia, a role that came with immense responsibility and danger. He had spent years working under Kim Minseok, learning from him, never expecting to take his place so soon.

Hawk, however, was quick to break the heavy silence. The moment Minseok walked away, Hawk's usual grin returned, lighting up his face. "Well, Sotto Capo Sehun," Hawk teased, clapping a hand on Sehun's back. "Look at you now!"

Sehun blinked, still too stunned to fully comprehend the situation. "I didn't... I didn't expect any of this," he muttered, glancing at Hawk, who was practically bouncing with excitement.

"Of course, you didn't," Hawk said with a chuckle, pulling Sehun into a quick, tight hug. "But damn if you don't deserve it! The Don knows what he's doing. You're going to be great, Sehun."

Sehun smiled weakly, though the weight of his new role still pressed heavily on his shoulders. He could feel Hawk's enthusiasm, but a part of him still felt guilty about Minseok. The man had been the Don's right hand for years, and now Sehun had taken that spot in the blink of an eye.

As they walked further from the office, Hawk kept talking, his excitement palpable. "You know what this means, right? You're going to have control over the biggest operations, and direct influence on everything we do! This is huge, Sehun."

Sehun nodded, still processing it all. He didn't share Hawk's excitement, not yet. The role of Sotto Capo wasn't just power—it was responsibility, loyalty, and carrying out the Don's vision without question. And after seeing what had just happened to Minseok, Sehun knew that any slip-up could cost him everything.

Despite the internal conflict, Sehun straightened his back, taking a deep breath. This was his new reality, and whether he was ready or not, he had to live up to it.
....

Chanyeol turned his attention to Jongin, who had remained silent throughout the confrontation.

Chanyeol's eyes softened for the first time that evening as he looked at Jongin. "I'm sorry you had to go through this, Jongin. Minseok tried to frame you, to make you take the fall for something you had no part in."

Jongin nodded, still processing everything.

Chanyeol sighed, lowering himself back into his chair. "But now that you're under my protection, no one will lay a hand on you. You've suffered enough. Minseok will never touch you again."

Jongin looked at Chanyeol, a mixture of relief and gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you, Don Chanyeol... for everything."

Chanyeol waved him off, but the weight of the evening hung heavy on his shoulders. He had just severed ties with someone who had been by his side for years, but in this world, betrayal was the ultimate sin—and the punishment had to fit the crime.

*
*
The Mafia Family Structure

Authors note 📝

Thank you for your kind support 😍

Did you see Minseok's demotion coming?

Did Chanyeol overreact?

Did Dae-Jung deserve his death?

Let me know your thoughts❤️