I was dazed from being dragged across the floor, the pain coming - actually coming - from my head, throbbing like a drumbeat, and I groaned low, trying to push away from whatever constrained me. My hair was being pulled strong, so impossibly strong. Hazy from all the pain in my head, it felt like a cloud had finally found its home in my brain. I vaguely registered the voices speaking in Chinese. Chinese? Was this my end? No, this couldn't be my end this way; where the hell was Jungkook? What did they do with him in this very dire situation?

"Jungkook!" I yelled out, my voice vacating my body into the open, where maybe-someone-somewhere would hear me. But all I got in return was that unfeeling, impenetrable silence hanging in the air around me like a shroud.

"JUNGKOOK!" I yelled again, investing all the relief from strain in me into that one desperate, frantic cry for help. It came out from my parched lips as hoarse and rough, yet deep in my heart, I wanted its sound to seep through the thick and heavy wall of oppressive silence closing in on me. And then the jailer started talking-perhaps the most furious string of broken, rapid-fire sentences in Chinese that ever flew over my head like diamonds in the wind. I couldn't make out a single word being said.

A ringing, sticky warmth began trickling down my head, mixing with cold sweats starting to break on my skin. It never numbed but only echoed with every drop-a heavy reminder so cruel and unforgiving-of the situation that I was in. I tried to move my body; however, my limbs were too heavy, just like lead. They were saddled with physical and emotional exhaustion that wrapped around me like an endless, heavy blanket.

"Please...", I stammered, my voice shaking with emotion. My pleadings, small and barely audible, were laced with desperation that somehow it might reach someone, anyone who could hear me.

The pain in my head was no different from the ceaseless drum of a blacksmith, pounding in time with the racing of my heart. Dazed, semi-conscious, I was being dragged across the cold floor. My mouth was full of the metallic taste of blood; the scent of copper mingled with the sharp tang of sweat sticking to my skin. I groaned, fighting to push away from this hard grip holding me, but my body felt heavy, too heavy to fight back. My hair was yanked hard, and a cry escaped my lips as the burning pull tormented my scalp.

I heard voices, but they were hoarse and rapid, broken Chinese words spoken by invisible people through my haze of pain. It wrapped around me like a thick fog, far off and barely comprehensible. Chinese? My mind tripped over the word, foggy and a beat or more behind. This was it? It couldn't be. Not this, not in some dirty back room without so much as a last look at Jungkook. Where was he? What had they done with him?

The next thing I knew, I was hurled across the room like a rag doll. My body hit the floor hard, as though it landed with a jolt to every single bone within me. Dazed, I lay there amidst a swimming world that I tried to account for through blurred vision. The dim light cast eerie shadows along the walls, which seemed to dance around me and mock my pain and helplessness.

A cold, mirthless laugh rippled throughout the room. "Jeon's little jewel, huh?" the voice sneered; thick with a Chinese accent, yet in perfect, clear Korean. I flinched at the malice in those words, as my heart started its wild rhythm in my chest. Who was this person? Why was I here?

The figure said, "I'm here to claim what belongs to me," tall and overwhelming in silhouette, the features obscured by dim light, yet the tone unmistakable therein-dangerous and possessive. "You are mine, Moon."

"No!" I whimpered, my voice no more than a whisper, shaking all over with fear. A cold and cruel laugh then pierced the night; he was amused.

"Jungkook? That poor, little boy?" the figure sneered, inching closer, his voice sending my chest tight with dread.

I was defiant even in the haze of terror. "If Jungkook finds you, you're done for!" I spat, venom lacing my words. Yet, the figure smirked, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"He won't," he said coldly. "Not this time."

This figure loomed over me, his hot breath on my face, thick with the stench of power and corruption. My heart was racing; fear clawed my throat as hopelessness dawned in my mind. There was no way out. I was trapped, helpless, at this monster's mercy.

"It's time for you to learn your place," he whispered, the words sending a shiver down my spine.

I had barely seen the man's face in that little light, and his presence consumed me to the extent of not being able to breathe. His chuckle was one of those dark, twisted things that filled up the room with no hint of humanity whatsoever. "Wanna see why you're here?" he asked, his voice dripping with malice; each word a dagger aimed at my heart. There were tears welling up in my eyes, mingling with the blood and sweat that stained my skin.

This is all because of Jeon, he spat, his tone elevating in growing rage. He stole you from me! If you were mine, China and Busan would have peace." But no! My father was obsessed with you, wanted you as my bride and now look what's happened! " He snarled as the anger boiled over. "I can't even claim my title, my inheritance, because of a worthless bitch like you!"

The words cut like a whip, and a realization came down on me with brute force: this man was the Chinese heir, the one that had eyes on me for years. My mind was racing, seeking desperately an exit, seeking desperately some hope. Where was Jungkook? He needed to know I was in danger. He needed to come for me. Always did.

But as anger swelled in him, the madness was in his eyes, the unhinged desperation of a man who was cheated from what was rightfully his. My blood ran cold; the hopelessness of the situation sank in.

"He should be running here and there, looking for you," the man tittered ominously, his voice dripping with sadistic glee. He enjoyed my fear, finding pleasure in every moment of my helplessness.

"Jungkook," I whispered, the name slipping out of my lips as a sort of prayer. I wanted to believe in the man who had always been my savior. But what if uncertainty clawed at me-could he really find me in time?

The man's sneer deepened, his voice low and menacing taunting me. "Do you really think that he'll get here in time?" he sneered, his voice low, his hot breath dancing across my skin. "Do you think your precious Jeon can save you now?

But I wasn't to let him break me, and I wasn't going to give him that pleasure. Gathering whatever little strength remained in me, I lifted my head up and stared at him, my voice shaking, yet defiant. "He will find me," I said, managing to force each word with as much conviction as I could. "And when he does, you'll regret every single thing you've done."

For an instant, his mask slipped-a glimmer of doubt flickered across his eyes. In the next, it was gone, replaced by an icy, cruel smile that sent shivers down my spine. "We'll see about that," he replied, his voice cold and cutting, like a blade raised and ready to strike.

"Before he can find you, we'll be gone to China, my dear bride," he said, his voice sullying words with twisted satisfaction.

"I'm already married," I snapped, the words tumbling forth before my mind could catch them. The thought of Jungkook, of our life together, stoked the fire inside me, pushing back the fear.

"Oh, that!" The man's eyes sparkled with dark mirth. "We do need to negotiate over something, don't we? I heard Jeon's father ordered him to knock you up. Did he?" His voice was teasing and cruel as he stepped closer over me, a dark shadow looming.

My throat constricted, and I swallowed hard as the sweat beaded upon my forehead. A surge of panic went through me, and he leaned in, his breath fanning against my face. He merely tsked, his head shaking from side to side. "I need to find out, don't I?"

Cold, numbing, paralyzing fear clutched at my heart. What would he do? My back hit the wall, the rough surface pressing against me as he closed the space between us, his eyes gleaming with a hunger which was sickening to my senses.

"Don't touch me," I hissed, trying to infuse my voice with bravado, but it just shook with fear. It appeared to amuse him-the twisted smile curling his lips as he leaned over me.

"You belong to me now," he sneered through his teeth, the implied tone in that voice sending evil vibes. His hands grasped my arm and yanked me forward with a strength that sent the breath out of my body. I struggled against his grip, but he was too strong, his hold not loosing an inch. Panic surged through me as he roughly pushed me against the wall, his body pinning me there and trapping me in.

I tried to push him away, but he grabbed my wrists and slammed them against the wall over my head. His face was inches from mine. The smell of sweat mixed with something so much more sinister invaded my senses, and my stomach churned in revulsion.

"You're mine, " nhe hissed, his free hand roaming down my side, sending shivers of disgust through me. I struggled against him in earnest now, desperate to be free; he only clutched me tighter against the wall.

"Get off me!" I screamed, though my voice was weak, drained from me along with my strength by the fear and despair of it all. His hand slid lower, and a wave of terror washed over me unlike anything I'd ever known. I knew what was coming, knew I wasn't going to be able to do a thing to stop it.

"No..." I whimpered, tears stinging my eyes as I struggled uselessly. His cruel smile broadened and he leaned in closer, his hot breath like a wave of heat down the side of my neck. My heart was pounding against the wall of my chest, every beat a painful reminder of how vulnerable I was, how completely at his mercy I had become.

Just as his hand began to tug at the hem of my shirt, the door to the room burst open with a deafening crash, the sound hanging in the air like a gunshot. The man froze, head snapping toward the door, grip on me loosening just enough for me to wrench myself free.

"Boss!" Someone called out, urgent and panicked.

I huddled onto the floor, my knees tucked up to my chest, and tried to make myself as small as possible-to be invisible. My breathing was now in short, ragged gasps; my tears fell unabashed, as awareness of what had happened descended upon me with full force.

The man who had pinned me against the wall cursed under his breath; his face was distorted with anger. He cast one last, devious look in my direction-a promise in his gaze that this was far from over. "This isn't over," he snarled, venom dripping from his tone.

He turned and strode out of the room, his lackey close at his heels. The door slammed shut after them, leaving me all to myself in the smothering blackness.

_

The moment I heard the door click shut, I snapped awake with adrenaline suddenly racing through my veins. Bruised and aching, my body screamed to stay down, but instinctively, I sat up. My heart thumped wildly in my chest as I watched a shadowy figure move toward me, the dim light barely illuminating his face.

As he came closer, the features of the man were well outlined, and a wave of terror started to overwhelm me, as if from a bucket of ice-cold water. It was one of the guards of the Chinese heir, the very same man who had stared at me with such lewdness in his eye earlier that night. His dark grin now was even more ghastly, his eyes threatened a predator, a vile intention oozing out.

"Looks like Jeon abandoned you," he jeered, voice dripping with venom as he towered above me. The pleasure in his tone sounded sickly, and his eyes made my skin crawl. "You'll be our young master's whore soon enough. But why should I wait? Why not enjoy you first?"

My heart was in a tight clamp of panic, and I tried to shrink away, but there was nowhere to go. His hand shot out, grasping brutally at the front of my shirt, yanking me toward him. The fabric tore under his grasp; the ripping of the cloth sounded loud in the silence, and I felt a cold gust of air on my exposed skin.

"Get off me!" I yelled, bucking against his hold, my voice full of fear and fury. But he was stronger, and his unyielding grip pressed me back up against the wall, trapping me between his body and the cold, unyielding surface. His other hand went to my waist, fingers biting into my flesh with a bruising force.

My mind flashed back to the self-defense lessons Jungkook drilled into me. Every move, every maneuver was replayed frantically within my head. I was not going to be a victim. I was not going to let this happen.

Using every last ounce of strength, I drove my knee upward into the soft spot between his legs. My knee connected with a sickening thud, and the guard's eyes went wide with surprise, his grip on me faltering as pain exploded through him.

He let out a strangling cry, suddenly doubling over in agony. Seizing the moment, I twisted my body violently, yanking myself free from his hold. My fist swung up in a wild arc, connecting with his jaw with all the force I could muster. The impact sent a jolt of pain through my hand, but I didn't care-I needed to get him away from me.

The guard stumbled backward, cursing under his breath, his hands clasped over his face, his eyes afire with anger. But before he could recover, I saw it-a holstered gun at his side. My heart skipped a beat as fear and determination clashed inside me.

In a split second, I had reached for the weapon, my fingers closing around the cold metal before he could even think about it. I yanked it free from its holster, my movements fueled by adrenaline and raw survival instinct. The weight of the gun felt foreign in my hand, yet I didn't have time to doubt myself.

"Back off!" I shouted, the gun shaking barely as I held it square at him. The guard's face contorted in shock; his bravado buckled, and for a moment he faltered, looking at me then at the gun barrel.

"You little—" he snarled, taking a step toward me, but I didn't give him the chance to finish. My finger tightened on the trigger, and a deafening gunshot echoed through the room.

The recoil pulled my arm backward, and the loudness sent an ache through my ears. His body bucked and his eyes went wide in surprise as the bullet struck him dead center in the chest. Blood flowered on his shirt like a dark star, and he fell to the floor with a dull thud, face frozen in shock.

I stood there, frozen in place, my breathing in short, ragged gasps, staring down at the lifeless body before me. Heavy was the gun that felt like lead in my shaking hand, and heavy was the reality of what had just been done, finally crashing down on me like a tidal wave. I had killed him. I had taken a life.

Guilt and fear would have to wait. It wasn't over-not by a long shot. I could hear footsteps in the distance, voices shouting in a language I didn't understand. There would be more. They'd find me, and they wouldn't show mercy.