-: ✧ :-゜・．

-: ✧ :-゜・．

The wind howled through the dark night, carrying the wail of distant sirens as the desolate road swarmed with police officers securing the crime scene.

The red and blue flashes of light reflected off the wet pavement, painting an eerie picture of chaos and tension.

Min Jungkook stood in the center of it all, his wrists bound in cold, unyielding handcuffs. His jaw was clenched, his face tense as frustration burned in his eyes. Two officers flanked him, their hands gripping his arms firmly despite his repeated warnings.

“I said don’t touch me!” Jungkook snapped, his voice low but seething with restrained anger.

One of the officers scoffed, adjusting his grip. “You’re accused of murder, Mr. Min. You’re lucky we haven’t done worse.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed dangerously, his tone sharp as he replied, “I didn’t kill her. I told you—it wasn’t me!” His voice broke slightly, desperation lacing his repeated claim. “It was an accident. I didn’t do this!”

The officers exchanged skeptical glances, their expressions a mixture of doubt and irritation.

Suddenly, the thick tension in the air shifted as the sound of tires screeching to a halt echoed through the street. Heads turned toward the sleek black Mercedes that had pulled up at the edge of the cordoned area.

The car’s door opened with measured precision, and out stepped Min Yoongi.

Dressed in a tailored black suit, his expression was calm yet chillingly devoid of emotion. His presence was commanding, an unspoken authority radiating from him as his dark eyes swept over the scene.

Every officer straightened instinctively, their posture rigid under his cold, assessing gaze.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, a glimmer of relief flashing across his face as he saw his older brother. “Hyung…” he muttered under his breath, his voice cracking slightly.

Yoongi’s gaze flicked to Jungkook, taking in his disheveled state and the handcuffs clamped around his wrists.

His steps were deliberate, his polished shoes clicking against the pavement as he approached with an air of predatory calm.

One of the senior officers stepped forward, his demeanor shifting from authority to deference. “Mr. Min,” the officer greeted, his voice steady but laced with caution.

Yoongi didn’t return the greeting. Instead, his gaze remained fixed on his brother before finally shifting to the officer. His voice was low, calm, and unnervingly cold. “Why is my brother in handcuffs?”

The officer hesitated, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “Mr. Jungkook has been accused of murder. We found him at the scene, and—”

“Who?” Yoongi interrupted, his tone sharper now, though his expression remained unreadable.

The officer cleared his throat nervously. “Bae Suzy. The—”

“The lawyer,” Yoongi finished for him, his voice devoid of any discernible emotion. He turned slowly, his sharp gaze slicing through the group of officers. “Move aside.”

The officers exchanged hesitant glances before stepping aside to let him through. Yoongi walked with purpose, his movements precise and deliberate.

As he neared the covered body, the crisp fabric of his suit caught the flickering light of the police cars. He stopped just short of the body, his eyes scanning the lifeless form of Bae Suzy.

The sheet covering her had been pulled back slightly, revealing her pale face and the dark stain of blood on her chest. Yoongi’s gaze lingered for a moment, his face a mask of stoic indifference.

Behind him, Jungkook’s frantic voice broke through the stillness. “Hyung, I swear, I didn’t do this!” he pleaded, his voice strained. “She came out of nowhere—right in front of my car. I swerved, and the car hit the pillar. When I got out, she was already dead. Someone shot her before I even got there!”

Yoongi turned slowly, his sharp eyes locking onto Jungkook. “You’re saying you didn’t shoot her?” he asked, his tone measured.

“I didn’t!” Jungkook’s voice cracked as he shook his head vehemently. “You have to believe me, hyung. It wasn’t me!”

Yoongi’s gaze shifted back to the senior officer, who stiffened under the weight of his stare. “You heard him,” Yoongi said, his voice smooth yet cutting. “He said he didn’t do it.”

The officer frowned, his professionalism faltering under Yoongi’s unrelenting presence. “Mr. Min, we can’t just take his word for it. The evidence—”

“Evidence?” Yoongi’s tone turned icy, his head tilting slightly. “What evidence? Did you find the weapon? Did you witness the act?”

The officer hesitated, and Yoongi stepped closer, his presence suffocating. “Let me make this clear,” he said, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “You will not keep my brother here based on baseless accusations. My wife will handle you for this . Until then, I suggest you reconsider your actions.”

The officer opened his mouth to respond but faltered under Yoongi’s unwavering stare. Finally, Yoongi’s lips curled into a faint smirk, though it held no warmth. “I trust you’ll make the right decision.”

Before the officer could reply, Yoongi turned to Jungkook, his voice softening slightly. “Don’t say another word, Jungkook. Let me handle this.”

Jungkook nodded silently, his tense shoulders relaxing slightly.

Yoongi straightened, his gaze sweeping over the gathered officers. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a brother to take home.”

The officers exchanged uncertain glances, the weight of Yoongi’s authority pressing down on them. Finally, the senior officer nodded reluctantly. “For now,” he said, his tone begrudging.

Yoongi’s smirk deepened as he gestured for Jungkook to follow. “Good choice.”

As the two brothers walked away, Jungkook glanced at Yoongi, his voice quiet but full of gratitude. “Hyung… thank you.”

Yoongi didn’t reply immediately, his sharp eyes fixed ahead. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and firm. “This isn’t over, Jungkook. If you’re hiding something from me, I’ll find out.”

Jungkook swallowed hard, nodding. “I’m not, hyung. I swear.”

Yoongi’s expression didn’t change, but his silence spoke volumes. The night was far from over.

____________

The silence of the night was broken only by the faint rustle of leaves as a cool breeze slipped through the open window.

Y/N lay undisturbed on the bed, her soft breaths barely audible, her serene face glowing under the gentle moonlight. The thin sheet draped over her did little to hide her bare naked form beneath. She was at peace, unaware of the shadow lurking near.

A tall figure, cloaked in the darkness, slipped into her room with fluid grace. The soft creak of the wooden floor under his boots went unnoticed as his piercing gaze fixed on her.

His eyes, dark as the abyss, drank in the sight of her, a mixture of desire and something far more sinister flickering within.

His lips curved into a faint smile, but it was devoid of warmth, a predatory gleam lighting up his features.

He stood at the foot of her bed, his broad shoulders silhouetted by the pale light streaming through the window.

Slowly, he pulled a kerchief from his pocket and held a small vial of chloroform, his movements deliberate.

Dousing the cloth, he advanced toward her sleeping form, each step careful and calculated, his shadow stretching over her as if the darkness itself sought to claim her.

Kneeling beside her, he gazed at her face for a lingering moment. "Still so perfect," he murmured under his breath, his voice deep, smooth, and hauntingly familiar.

Pressing the cloth gently over her nose, he waited, his pulse steady as hers slowed even further into unconsciousness.

A deep sigh of satisfaction escaped his lips as he set the kerchief aside.

The man then climbed onto the bed, slipping under the sheets with a quiet possessiveness. His muscular arms snaked around her, pulling her against his solid chest as though he intended to merge with her entirely.

His touch was reverent yet charged, every movement deliberate. He pressed his lips to her bare shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses that burned despite their softness.

Hovering over her now, his features remained obscured, the dim light casting shadows that danced across his chiseled body but refused to reveal his identity.

His face dipped into the crook of her neck, where he inhaled deeply, as though her scent was the very essence of life he craved. He kissed and whipped at her skin, his tongue tracing a path of possession, leaving faint red marks in his wake.

Y/N stirred faintly, her unconscious body responding with a soft moan as her fingers brushed against the hard muscles of his back.

A low chuckle escaped him, laced with dark satisfaction. "Mine," he whispered, the word dripping with both tenderness and obsession.

As he continued to trail kisses along her body, his identity remained cloaked in shadows, the faintest glimmer of moonlight offering no clues.

The only certainty was the intensity of his actions, the hunger in his touch, and the possessiveness with which he held her who he was, and why he was there, a mystery shrouded in the night.

___________

Maria’s eyes widened as she saw Jungkook trailing behind Yoongi, his head bowed. Concern etched on her face, she hurriedly approached Yoongi, her steps faltering with unease.

"Yoongi! What happened? Why does Jungkook look like this? Did something happen?" Maria’s voice quivered, a mixture of worry and annoyance.

Yoongi turned to her briefly, his face calm but his eyes cold, as he said in an even tone, "Jungkook, go to your room. Now."

Jungkook didn’t argue, his shoulders stiff as he silently followed the command and disappeared upstairs. Maria, however, wasn’t one to let things slide.

"Yoongi, stop!" Maria stepped closer, her voice rising with urgency. "What is going on? Why is Jungkook being sent to his room? You come home late, and now this? Explain!"

Junghoo, seated on the couch, placed his hands on his knees and looked up at Yoongi, his deep voice steady but filled with concern. "Son, if there’s something we need to know, tell us now."

Yoongi’s gaze flicked to his father, then back to Maria. His tone was clipped as he delivered the bombshell. "There’s a murder charge against Jungkook."

"What?" Maria gasped, taking a step back as her hand flew to her chest. "Murder charge? How? When? Against our Jungkook?"

Junghoo’s brow furrowed deeply, his lips pressing into a grim line. "This is a serious accusation. What proof do they have?"

Yoongi didn’t answer. He simply looked at them both, his face an unreadable mask, before turning on his heel and heading for the stairs.

"Yoongi!" Maria called after him, but he didn’t stop. Her voice cracked, filled with desperation. "Don’t walk away from this!"

But Yoongi had already disappeared up the staircase, leaving his parents in a whirlpool of shock and unanswered questions.

As Yoongi stepped into his room, the sight of Y/N sleeping peacefully under the soft glow of the bedside lamp made him pause. His tense shoulders relaxed, and for a moment, the chaos of the outside world faded away.

He sighed heavily, removing his coat and loosening his buttons as he walked toward the bed. Sitting on the edge, he admired her serene face, her soft breaths steady and calming.

His hand brushed a stray strand of hair from her face as his lips curled into a faint, bittersweet smile.

Sliding under the sheets, Yoongi wrapped an arm around her bare waist, pulling her close until there was no space between them.

He buried his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent. "You’re the only peace I have in this world," he whispered, his voice low and filled with unspoken affection.

But as his eyes drifted to her neck, his peaceful expression faltered. His gaze zeroed in on a faint mark—a hickey.

Not just any hickey. It wasn’t his.

Yoongi froze, his body tensing as his jaw clenched. His hand, once tender on her waist, now tightened slightly as he carefully examined the mark. His mind raced.

He had memorized every inch of her body, every mark he’d left as his claim. This wasn’t one of them.

His sharp eyes moved to her right hand, where a crumpled piece of paper was loosely held. Slowly, he pried it from her fingers, unfolding it with measured precision.

As he read the note, his expression darkened with a cold fury.

"Did you miss me, Aera? You look as tempting as ever. Let’s see how long you can keep your little secret from him."

The note slipped from his fingers onto the bed as his entire body stiffened. His jaw tightened, and his eyes burned with an icy fire. Whoever had done this was mocking him, taunting him with their audacity.

Who touched her? His mind screamed, but outwardly, he remained eerily calm, his face a mask of contained rage.

Glancing back at Y/N, who was still peacefully asleep, Yoongi reached out and gently caressed her cheek. His touch was soft, almost reverent, despite the storm brewing inside him.

"You’ll stay safe, no matter what," he whispered, his voice cold yet protective.

He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead before settling beside her. His arm once again draped over her waist, holding her close, but his mind remained wide awake, calculating.

The note, the mark, the taunt—this was personal.

Yoongi’s low voice rumbled in the silence, a quiet promise to himself. "They’ll regret ever touching what’s mine."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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