JUNGKOOK'S POV

I awoke feeling utterly wretched, as though the weight of the world had settled on my chest. The idea of getting out of bed felt like a cruel joke, and I lay there, hoping—no, pleading—for someone, anyone but her, to drag me out of this abyss.

The shrill vibration of my phone pierced the silence, its relentless buzzing invading the fragile stillness of my room. Groaning, I rolled over, not even sparing a glance at the Caller ID. Whoever dared disturb me at this hour would undoubtedly regret it.

“Who the hell is calling me at this ungodly hour?” I snapped, pressing the phone to my ear. My voice was rough, my patience already worn thin. Faint shouting filtered through the line, followed by a familiar chuckle.

“It’s 12 p.m., mate,” came Yugyeom’s infuriatingly casual response. His tone carried a smirk, and I could almost picture his smug face on the other end. I grunted, my reluctance to leave the comfort of my bed deepening.

“What do you want, Yugyeom?” My voice was laced with irritation. I heard him say something to someone—likely the source of the background chaos—and then he finally addressed me.

“Well,” he began, dragging out the word like the annoying prick he was, “I’ve got your not-so-secret admirer in the basement, and she just won’t shut up about you. Can you, I don’t know, come down here and deal with it?” His whine was the last thing I needed to hear.

I ended the call without another word, tossing the phone aside. With a heavy sigh, I dragged myself out of bed and threw on my usual attire—dark, blood-streaked, and utterly devoid of care. I wasn’t about to dress up for a nuisance like her.

The hallway greeted me with its usual suffocating silence. My workers glanced at me as I passed, their judgmental stares boring into my back. I ignored them, as I always did, and quickened my pace. The sooner I dealt with this, the better.

The moment I stepped into the basement, I was greeted by her shrill, ear-piercing screams.

“LET ME SEE HIM!” she screeched, her voice like nails on a chalkboard.

I obliged her. I slammed the door open with enough force to rattle the frame, and her face twisted from aggravation to something that made my stomach churn—lust.

There she was, bound to a dilapidated chair. Rusted chains wrapped around her fragile wrists, biting into her flesh and leaving angry red welts. Yugyeom’s handiwork, no doubt. Her skin bore the marks of his usual methods—bruised, battered, and raw.

My gaze drifted to her neck, and there it was. A trail of hickeys, dark and deliberate. The sight made my blood boil.

I shudder at the memory of that night. The thought alone churns my stomach, yet her wicked smile only widens as I take a step closer. Her confidence disgusts me, but I refuse to let it show. My gaze shifts to Yugyeom, standing silently in the corner.

“Give me a carving knife,” I commanded, my voice cold and devoid of hesitation. He nods wordlessly, handing the blade over with quiet obedience.

Dragging a chair across the floor, the sound scrapes the air as I position myself before her. She leans forward, her smile plastered to her face like a mask. “Did you miss me, baby?” she croons, her voice a sickly sweet whine that makes my skin crawl.

“Don’t call me that,” I snap, my tone sharp enough to cut glass. Leaning closer, I let the edge of the blade glint between us. “I’ll be the one asking the questions.”

Her grin only widens. “Ask me anything!” she chirps, her cheerfulness grating against every nerve in my body.

My expression remains stone cold as I hover the knife over the mottled bruises on her skin. “Why did you get close to her?”

The smirk twists her lips even further. “You mean that whor—”

Before she can finish, my hand moves on instinct, driving the blade into her flesh with a force that reverberates through my arm. Her scream pierces the room, high-pitched and raw, but the sound soothes the storm raging within me. My jaw clenches as her blood spills in crimson rivulets, staining her skin and pooling beneath her.

A grotesque symphony.

“Don’t you ever call her that,” I growl, my voice like a low thunder. The knife moves again, slicing through her neck with precision. A sliver of flesh falls to the floor, joining the growing pile. Her screams falter, turning into gasping sobs, but her eyes—wild, unrelenting—stay fixed on me.

“Why?” I ask again, my voice eerily calm.

Her grin remains, manic and unwavering. “Because I love you!” she shouts, her voice shrill with desperation. “The only reason I got close to her was because of you! I even tried to have her killed with that nobody for you! Because we’re supposed to be together—”

The blade cuts her off mid-sentence, carving out another section of her bruised skin. Her screams erupt anew, louder and more agonised, but I don’t falter.

“You’re the one who sent Scoups after Y/N.” My words are a statement, not a question, my voice unyielding. She doesn’t deny it. Instead, she offers me that same sick smile, her eyes glinting with deranged delight.

“Why are you admitting all of this?” I demand, my hand tightening around her neck—not enough to choke her, but enough to make her feel my presence.

“B-because I would never lie to my love,” she breathes, her voice trembling yet growing louder with each word. “That bitch doesn’t deserve your love—I do! I killed that stupid bird for you! I tried to kill her for you!” She thrashes against the chains, the metal biting into her flesh as her words dissolve into a frenzied scream.

My patience snaps.

I finish carving the remnants of the hickeys from her skin and plunge the knife into her thigh. Her body convulses as the nerves rupture, her screams blending into the echoing chaos of the room.

“Don’t you dare say that!” I roar, my hands wrapping around her neck. The pressure builds as my grip tightens, tighter and tighter, until I can feel the rapid beat of her pulse beneath my fingers. But even as her breaths become ragged and shallow, her smile remains, twisted and grotesque.

“I-I would love to die by your hands,” she whispers, her voice weak yet laced with that same maddening glee.

That’s when I lose all control.

I seize a fistful of her hair with one hand, my other gripping her jaw, and with one swift motion, I twist her neck. The sickening crack echoes in the room as her body falls limp.

Her smile, at long last, vanishes. The light in her eyes flickers out, replaced by an empty darkness that mirrors the void in my chest.

I stand over her lifeless body, my breathing heavy, every ounce of bottled rage still coursing through my veins. I wanted her to suffer more, to bleed, to feel every shred of torment she inflicted upon me. But I couldn’t bear the thought of her existing for another second.

As the blood on my clothes drips to the floor, I catch Mingyu taking a cautious step back. He doesn’t dare speak.

“Do whatever you want with the body,” I mutter, my voice hollow as I turn on my heel and walk out of the room. The stares of my workers mean nothing to me as I ascend the stairs, fresh blood trailing behind me. I have only one destination in mind: my office.

Everyone who dared meet my gaze quickly looked away, their eyes widening with fear. A smirk played at my lips, a quiet satisfaction settling within me. This was how they should see me—formidable, untouchable—not weak.

The sharp trill of my phone pulled me from my thoughts. Glancing at the caller ID, a flicker of hope ignited in my chest. Trackers.

“Do you have anything?” I asked curtly, my voice steady yet expectant.

“Yes, sir,” came the subdued voice on the other end. “There’s a report from a small town northwest. A woman matching Ms. Y/N’s description was seen checking into a motel for two nights under her own first name. But…”

A scoff escaped me before they could finish. Was she seriously trying to lead me to her? Or was this some kind of trap?

“Put my best men on her,” I ordered, my tone clipped, “and include Eunwoo in the team.”

“Yes, sir,” the voice affirmed before the line disconnected.

I slid the phone back into my pocket, my thoughts swirling. I would get her back soon, of that I was certain. But I couldn’t go after her just yet—not directly. If I showed up now, it would escalate into a confrontation far more destructive than I was prepared for.

As I approached my office, the sound of hurried footsteps caught my attention. Lia. She was walking past me, her head down, her movements stiff with tension. I hadn’t seen her since the day she shouted at me, and now the regret was written all over her face.

Her pace quickened as she tried to avoid me, but I stopped abruptly.

“Lia.” My voice was calm, yet carried an unmistakable authority.

She froze mid-step, slowly turning to face me. Her expression was a mixture of fear and hesitation. “Y-yes, Sir?” she stammered, her voice betraying her unease.

“Come with me to my office,” I instructed, my tone leaving no room for argument.

“I—I’m in the middle of—”

“Now.”

The single word silenced her. She nodded meekly and followed me, her hands trembling as I closed the door behind us.

“If you think I’m going to hurt you, I’m not,” I stated, watching her carefully. Her wide eyes regarded me warily, though she gave a small shake of her head.

“Why am I here?” she asked, attempting to sound firm, though the slight quaver in her voice betrayed her.

My gaze hardened at her tone, and I didn’t miss the way she flinched under my stare. “Because of what you think I did to Y/N,” I replied evenly.

Her eyes widened in shock, her silence speaking volumes.

“Don’t bother denying it—” I began, but she interrupted.

“I’m not,” she said quickly, though the guilt was already etched across her face.

I paused, the weight of the truth pressing heavily on me. “I was drugged,” I admitted quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. “Manipulated into believing that Ryujin was Y/N.” The memories clawed at me, but I forced them down, refusing to let them take control.

Lia stood there, stunned into silence. When she finally found her voice, it was barely audible. “I’m… I’m sorry I said those things about you. But why didn’t you tell her?”

My jaw clenched, and I let out a bitter laugh. “She didn’t give me the chance before she ran. And you—you screamed at me before I could say anything,” I said, my words sharper than I intended.

Guilt flashed across her face as she lowered her gaze. “I—I didn’t realise…” she murmured.

I sighed, my tone softening. “Still, I wouldn’t have been able to piece it all together without your outburst. So… thank you.”

Her head snapped up in surprise, her eyes wide as she stared at me, then quickly looked down again. “You’re… welcome,” she mumbled, her posture stiff and awkward.

“You’re dismissed,” I said, waving a hand toward the door. Without hesitation, she scurried out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

As the door clicked shut behind her, I exhaled heavily, running a hand through my hair. Hopefully, she’d pass the truth on to the others. Not that it mattered much—clearing my name was the least of my concerns right now.

I turned to my desk, which was strewn with documents and files—contacts, import agreements, logistical details that all demanded my attention. But no matter how hard I tried, my thoughts kept drifting back to Y/N.

She was out there, possibly in danger, and every second wasted felt like a dagger to my chest.

——
I managed to complete half of the documents, my focus teetering on the edge of distraction. Just as I began working on the next one, the door slammed open with a deafening force. My head snapped up, and there stood Eunwoo, his face pale, his nose bloody, and his chest heaving as though he had been running for miles.

“Y/N…” he gasped, his voice barely audible as he struggled for breath. His eyes locked onto mine, a glimmer of panic in their depths. “She got away.”

The words hit me like a freight train. My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. She… she really got away?

Eunwoo shifted uncomfortably, his face a mix of dread and exhaustion. “Boss,” he began cautiously, but I didn’t let him finish.

“Out.”

“Wait, I—”

“I said GET OUT!” My voice exploded from within me, raw and unrestrained. The fury that I had kept carefully contained erupted like a volcano, and Eunwoo flinched before hastily retreating, closing the door behind him.

The silence that followed was deafening.

She had managed to escape—not just one or two, but an entire team of my best men. The weight of her determination to evade me settled heavily on my chest. What would she endure, what risks would she take, just to ensure she never saw me again?

My hands clenched into fists, and I felt the tension building in every fibre of my being. With one final surge of anger, I slammed my fists onto the desk, the wood cracking and splintering under the pressure. A guttural yell tore from my throat, an agonised sound that echoed through the room.

The thought clawed at my mind relentlessly: What if I never see her again?

The idea alone was unbearable. My vision blurred with rage and despair as I stared at the broken remnants of my desk, my chest heaving with uneven breaths.

What if I’ve already lost her forever?