There was a maelstrom of fire in my shoulder.

Emrys must not have had fired a gun before. The recoil made it go wild, the bullet digging deep into flesh and bone, ripping a scream raw from my throat as I all but buckled under the agony, knees crumpling.

The sound of the gun echoed round and round the empty warehouse.

I wanted to screech myself hoarse. I wanted to scream and scream and scream - oh the pain, the pain - !

Emrys had gone white. His fingers shook, and a flicker of doubt entered his eyes. His first shot had not hit the mark, it had not done its job, and now he would have to take another. If he had true intent to kill that would surely be no problem, he would keep firing that gun until I looked like a well-used target board. The question now was - did he?

I didn't care for the answer. I wanted to curl up in a little ball, crying myself until I had no more tears left in me, crying until my vocal chords gave up and left me mute; the beatings my father gave were nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to this. When Emrys walked near I heard it more than I saw it, and tried to lift my head. The bullet wound made everything hard; moving, breathing, living, existing -

"It came from here! The gunshot! This shop!"

The footsteps stopped coming.

The voice was probably just outside, maybe a few shops down max, but it sounded so far away. Emrys and I were in a little metal bubble of our own, empty saved for this whirlpool of physical torment and tears and the constant thought that it hurts, oh did it hurt.

A loud clatter, as the gun dropped and Emrys simply fled. I bowed my head, feeling the tears finally flowing down both my cheeks in a mixture of agony and relief. The old man, he must have walked out of his shop . . . breath of fresh air . . . seen the fallen grocery bags . . . police . . .

Metal shutters banged upward with force as black shoes came a-running in. They scattered to the back corners of the warehouse, men barking orders. I remained keeled over in my little corner, gasping as I tried to reel the pain in, my good hand pressing down on the wound as hard as I dared.

A pair of leather Louboutins came to a gentle stop inches away.

"Got yourself in a spot of trouble, did we, sweetheart?"

My heart sank. No no no, this could not be happening -

"Lucky for us you kept the ring on. Otherwise crime scene investigators would be the one discovering your dead body."

. . . Ring? I glanced down at my good hand. Now that the stone was mere inches from my face I could see it - the small tracking device embedded within, beeping with a light that melded perfectly with the musgravite's purple hue.

I should have known Jasper did not give free gifts.

"Shop clear!" someone yelled.

Another pair of shoes joined Jasper's brown ones. "There's an open door leading out the back, sir. He probably escaped that way. Should we pursue?"

The jewel on Jasper's ring finger gleamed as he twisted it between his long fingers. He'd gotten one of his own, an identical twin to mine. On his hands the crystal looked cold, sharp and deadly.

"No need."

A pause.

"I'll do it."

My head snapped upward. I tried to get up, couldn't, and clenching my teeth, dragged myself forward with my good hand across the dusty, dirt-streaked floor. Bloody fingers reached out to clasp themselves around Jasper's legs. He looked down, his lip curling back - in disgust, no doubt, as his mind wandered the various ways to punish me for allowing my blood to taint the luxurious silk of his dress pants.

"No. Please," I croaked. Pathetic, an inner part of me whispered. "Emrys had every right to fire that on me - please don't - Jasper, you can't - "

"Can't what? Hurt the man who hurt my fiancee? Help you get revenge?" From the pocket of his jacket he took out another ring, black this time, and put it on his index finger.

"Emrys . . . " he mused. "That's one of your schoolmates, isn't he? The one you shared a happy little detention with. Oh yes, sweetheart," he said as he saw the shock on my face, "I know all about your pretty little friends."

"I don't want you to hurt him. I don't want revenge. Please!"

Jasper gave a harsh shake of his legs and my fingers slipped right off. Flicking out his pocket handkerchief he wiped down my hand print.

"That's never going to come off," he almost snarled, and I faltered.

Jasper wasn't just angry. He was pissed.

Straightening himself he snapped a finger and men stood to attention.

"Take Miss Hayley back, fix up her wound and keep her in bed. Make sure she stays there. Cuff her if you have to. I'll return when I've finished my business."

I watched him walk away and felt the dread rose up like bile from my stomach.

"Stop! Jasper, don't! Please don't hurt him, please!"

A third ring went on his middle finger - the biggest yet - and he kept walking.

I screamed, louder than when Emrys had shot me in the shoulder. "Stop hurting my friends! Stop hurting all my friends, just stop it - stop it! Was Kaylan not enough?"

The back foot stopped in the midst of lifting up, the heel a quarter inch off the ground. I kept my eyes locked on his back, heart in my mouth, wanting, wishing, hoping he'd change his mind -

The foot went down and he never looked back.

|*|

The drain was uncovered and Emrys threw up right in it.

In his mind the whole thing flashed all over again - the smell of gunpowder, the sound of the crack, and the sight of blood, dear Lord the blood, just gushing out between Hayley's fingers . . . and her scream bouncing off every square space of the four walls.

And the worst part of it all was, he had failed anyway. He hadn't done it right. At the last second his hand had quivered, and that one quiver was all it took to send the bullet off the course it was supposed to take.

Mum. Dad. Sis. I've failed you. I've failed you.

He was a failure. In every aspect he was a failure and he had known it - as a student, as a brother. And now, as a son. His entire life it seemed, was doomed to never ever go his way.

Revenge. That was all he wanted. Plain and simple. Pull the trigger - that was it. That was it. And had he managed it? Of course not. 

Squeezing his eyes shut he slammed a frustrated fist on the pavement.

"And what would you be like if you had managed to kill her? Sitting on the street blubbering, in a pool of your own waste, no doubt?"

Emrys scrambled up. The man that stood in the street was tall, very tall, and his clothes were black, very black. It took a second before he could place the face - this was the man that had came gliding into the cafeteria the other day, proclaiming himself to be Hayley's beau.

It was a silent night. There was no one around except the two of them, in this empty alley behind empty shop lots, with the nearest roadside lamp broken. Hesitantly, Emrys took a step back.

"You can run if you like." Emrys watched him fiddle with the rings on his fingers. "Just make sure I don't catch you."

Little breaths puffed out of Emrys' lips. When he had heard the voice calling urgently outside the shop, he had assumed automatically that it was the police. Flight instinct had taken over and he'd even dropped his gun . . . it was okay though, he had stolen it and he never touched it without gloves. 

At that time, being arrested was the worst possible scenario he had thought could happen.

The man seemed almost bored. Lifting up a hand, he cracked a knuckle. The sound traveled wide and far.

It was a silent night.

Emrys ran.

He didn't hear the man take off after him, but he did felt the kick that connected with his side. The blow was brutal, like someone had slammed a frying pan straight into his kidneys. Who knew Louboutins could be so violent. He tripped, rolling twice over the rough road before stopping.

He winced, groaning, a hand clasping over his shoulder.

"Dang," he coughed out. "I hope Hayley knows she's entering a potentially abusive marriage."

"Get up," was the only reply.

He pulled himself to his feet, and had barely began to balance himself when the sole of Jasper's foot rammed into his ribs. He fell, landing on his behind.

"Get up," Jasper said.

Legs splayed ungainly on the ground, Emrys drew in a wracked breath.

He knew where this was going.

He'd had enough experience in the orphanage. In any other place, school perhaps, he would have been treated with sympathy, perhaps a little more lenience than anyone else. But in the orphanage everyone who was there had lost their parents, and his case was no different. What made him different were his nightmares, his tendency to wet the bed with his night terrors, and wake up to see the older boys smirking and jeering in the doorway.

Get up. That was how they always did it. It must have had been fun, Emrys supposed, to wait for the victim to get up only to kick them back down again. Watch them struggle and know you had complete power, that their efforts were in vain because you would make sure of that fact.

Get up. Now fall down. Get up. Now fall down. Get up - bam, down.

Emrys spat on the ground and pulled himself up. "You guys ain't so different from common street rats now, are you?"

The blow swung higher and caught him in the face. Spine met ground, hard.

Jasper flexed his fingers. "At least when we shoot we don't miss." 

He wouldn't fight back. Some might call it the coward's way, but to Emrys it was survival. Even in the orphanage it had been like that. They would drag him out to the orphanage backyard, where they'd played a nice game of "humanball." Like football, but let's kick this useless lump instead! And he would keep time by counting the cars, passing vehicles which he could see through the holey fence.

With resistance, nineteen cars. Without resistance, eleven. So he learned to go limp and protect the parts he knew would bruise the most, until boredom took over and the boys left him alone for other more worthwhile pursuits.

That was how he'd survive orphanage. Alone.

"Up."

This wasn't orphanage, though. This was real world. And he wasn't alone. He had a sister.

"Up."

A sister waiting for him to come home.

"I said, up."

Emrys got up and charged headfirst. Jasper sidestepped him easily, and when he halted himself to turn back a fist had materialized before his eyes.

A fist wearing three hard, jewel-embedded rings.

Stars exploded every which way. There was a crack as his nose broke, and the blood began to flow. The pain rocketed around his skull, causing his head to pound and his vision to blur; Emrys blinked furiously, trying to get the tears out of his eyes and the agony out of his pain receptors. Jasper was dancing in and out of his world, sometimes there, sometimes not, and before he knew it there was another fist in his cheek, a blow to his stomach, and when he doubled over - a knee sharply up against his chin that sent him flying.

He crashed to the ground, groaned, turned to his side and coughed out blood. Deep, hacking coughs. Red-flecked spittle.

Jasper took out a blue handkerchief and wiped the blood off his rings. "I know all about you. You lost your parents in one of Blackcroft's missions. They were one of our . . . collateral damages. You were held back for one year, so I supposed you aren't what they called smart, but I would have thought even an idiot can tell Hayley isn't the target you're looking for. News flash - she was only seven when you lost your parents. She has nothing to do with any of it."

Colllateral damage. That was what his parents had been. Oh, nothing much, just another statistic in the number of deaths we've caused. The anger came louder this time, even louder than it had been with Hayley; it roared in his ears, it made his fists curl and gave him the strength to stand, shakily through the pain.

"Well here's a news flash for you, " Emrys growled, "who said I gave a damn?"

He ran, fist drawn back for a punch, and he could have sworn he saw Jasper roll his eyes. The first punch was dodged but Emrys had expected it, and he followed up with another punch with his left hand. What he didn't expect was that Jasper could recover so quickly, catching the flailing hand and wrenching it, straight up - he howled and Jasper pushed. Emrys tumbled to the ground, clasping his left shoulder. 

Something in his shoulder that was not supposed to move had just moved.

Jasper wasn't even breathing heavily. A slight edge entered his voice as he said, "That's the same shoulder your bullet lodged in Hayley."

A flick of the wrist as Jasper straightened out his cuff links. "Vengeance I get. I respect it, actually, a son with a fierce sense of filial piety, that drives him to seek for his parents' retribution. But a son who plots his revenge against the wrong person? Now that's just stupid."

"Who said it was the wrong person?" Emrys was having a hard time breathing through the pain. "Who said Hayley was innocent? I've been tracking you guys. Ever since you showed up in that cafe like some goddamn cliche Korean drama scene I knew you were bad news. And I was right. I stalked Hayley's apartment and I saw you bring her out to your little torture chamber, with Kaylan and his family."

Emrys hissed. "She might not have ruined my family, but she sure as hell ruined Kaylan's!"

Jasper let out a soft, derisive laugh. "So what? You're telling me you're helping Kaylan get revenge for his family? Please. You're a weak, insipid little creature who can't even graduate high school. Who are you to help others with their revenge schemes?" 

Crouching down, Jasper's mocking black eyes met Emrys' burning ones. "And next time? Do your research. Kaylan's parents are far from innocent." The voice dropped low, almost tender. "You see, they help people, other people . . . just like us. Especially the father. He's a criminal lawyer, and trust me when I say he's not on the side of the angels."

" . . . What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, my dear sweet child," Jasper whispered, "that Mr Hood helps criminals get away when they're prosecuted. He doesn't help us of course, rather he helps our rival, and of course in this line of business that makes him our enemy as well. I'm sure his family has absolutely no idea what he's doing, but at least his son isn't stupid enough to help his parents 'claim vengeance' by attacking the wrong person."

Jasper paused, and tapped the bridge of his long, fine nose. "In fact, I believe the boy even confessed to Hayley about him having a little crush on her. Hmm. One could almost say he's been afflicted with Stockholm Syndrome, don't you think? Personally I find him rather rude to make a move on a girl who's already taken."

"You're disgusting," Emrys sneered. "The thought of you and Hayley makes me want to throw up. Did you even propose? Have you guys even dated? Because I'm the expert on this romance business, and I can tell you she has not a single ounce of feelings for you. Sorry bro, but I don't think you're close enough to even see the gate to her friend zone."

"Caring for her now, are you? You really need to make up your mind. I find bipolar people quite irritating."

He stood up, and Emrys was struck by how helpless the situation looked. Here he was, lying on the cold, hard road with a broken nose, a broken arm, damaged teeth and a face that had surely lost its previous handsomeness, while the man who'd done it all had not even a scratch on the polish of his 800-dollar shoes. 

"By the way, what's it like to be the elder brother? I've always been the younger sibling, so I wouldn't know. Do you do all that parent stuff like cooking, and cleaning up after your sister when she soils herself? I hear she's a little, you know" - Jasper whistled low, and made a twirling motion beside his temple - "loco en el coco."

"Touch her, you bastard, and I'll - " Emrys lunged forward and let out a cry, falling back. Pain blazed anew. He'd forgotten about his arm.

"And you'll what? You can't even take care of yourself, you wimp." It was funny how a playground insult could morph into a cutting barb when Jasper used it. 

Blackcroft's most dangerous man moved one step near. "I don't need a gun to kill you. I can break your arm, decimate your bones, and make you completely incapable of producing children." A pause. "Because you're dead, I mean. But I'm not going to do that. Why? Two things."

Jasper stepped closer.

"One. I have your sister. She's nuts, utterly defenseless, and you can't watch over her every single hour of the day." He clapped his hands in delight. "Perfect to hold over your head. Plus you can't tell anyone, or Social Services will take her away and separate the both of you. Two. Hayley has asked me not to. And before you jibe at me for being under the thumb of a woman, her actions show that she cares for you. A terrible decision on her part. But again, perfect, because that means I can hold you over her head. Or any of her friends to be honest."

He brushed an imaginary speck of dust off his fingers. "She's a complete nincompoop just like you. Give her a mission and what does she do? Make friends. Pah."

The shoes moved closer. Emrys now had to look directly upward to meet Jasper's eyes. 

"So what I'm going to do," and Jasper's eyes glittered harshly, "is leave you with a warning."

The leather shoe kicked against Emrys' bad shoulder and Emrys fell bodily backward.

"No one." The leather shoe rested against the dislocated arm. Emrys tensed.

"Touches." The leather shoe pressed down gently. Emrys struggled.

"My." The leather shoe lifted itself up. Emrys inhaled.

"Fiancee." The leather shoe stomped down, hard and vicious; there was a loud crack.

And Emrys screamed.

|*| *| * | * | * | * | *| 

Hi hi! This one's for CookiexJimin! By the way, I just became an ARMY too HUEHUEHUE and if you're interested to read my BTS fanfic (mystery/thriller/short story) you can always look up Letters to BTS by . I really appreciate the support you've shown this story and hope you liked this chapter! 

And since there can never be too much jikook :

Look how happy they are oh my lord *squeeee*