Next Morning

The grand study of the Jeon mansion is a blend of opulence and menace, its dark oak paneling and heavy velvet drapes absorbing the late afternoon light filtering through tall, arched windows. A massive mahogany table dominates the center, strewn with papers and a sleek laptop. Jungkook sits at the head, dressed in a casual black t-shirt and joggers, a stark contrast to his usual tailored suits, but his presence is no less commanding. His sharp eyes are glued to the manila folder in his hands, his brow furrowed as he scans the fabricated projections Mr. Choi delivered moments ago. The room is silent save for the faint rustle of pages and the distant hum of the mansion’s security system.

Mr. Choi sits across from Jungkook, his posture rigid but composed, the picture of a loyal subordinate. His gray suit is immaculate, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed, but his eyes flicker with a quiet intensity. The small tracking device—a sleek, black gadget no larger than a coin—burns a hole in his pocket. He’s been in the mansion countless times, but today, the weight of his mission makes every second feel like an eternity. He watches Jungkook’s focus, waiting for the perfect moment.

Upstairs, Yoongi leans against the railing of the second-floor mezzanine, hidden in the shadows of the dimly lit hallway. His black hoodie blends into the dark, his sharp eyes tracking every move below. He’s been suspicious of Mr. Choi’s visit from the moment he arrived, and Yoongi’s instincts—honed by years of navigating Jungkook’s dangerous world—are screaming that something’s off. He grips the railing, his knuckles white, as he observes the scene unfold.

Jungkook flips a page, oblivious to Mr. Choi’s subtle movements. Seizing the moment, Mr. Choi leans forward slightly, as if adjusting his posture, and slips his hand under the table. With practiced precision, he attaches the tracking device to the underside of the wood, its adhesive backing securing it in place. His heart pounds, but his face remains a mask of calm professionalism. He straightens, his hand brushing the concealed button inside his coat pocket—a signal to Namjoon and Taehyung, waiting in their office across the city. The button’s faint *click* is swallowed by the room’s silence.

**Jungkook** (still reading, voice distracted): “These numbers… Park Group’s pushing for a bigger cut than I expected. This deal’s a pain in the ass.”

**Mr. Choi** (nodding, voice steady): “Yes, sir. They’re insisting on finalizing the terms in person. They’ve scheduled an urgent meeting for this evening at the office. I’d advise attending—it’s a critical step to lock this down.”

Jungkook grunts, his eyes still on the file, unaware of the device now humming silently beneath the table, syncing with Namjoon’s tracking system. Mr. Choi’s pulse steadies; the hardest part is done. He keeps his hands folded, betraying nothing.

Upstairs, Yoongi’s eyes narrow as he catches the faint movement of Mr. Choi’s hand under the table. He’s too far to see the device, but he knows a covert move when he sees one. His mind races—Choi’s not just here for a file. Yoongi’s been piecing together Y/N’s situation, and this confirms his suspicions: others are moving to get her out. His gaze shifts to the security panel on the wall nearby, its blinking lights indicating active cameras and alarms. With a quick glance to ensure no guards are watching, Yoongi slips to the panel and types in a code, disabling the motion sensors in the study for a brief window. He mutters under his breath, a mix of frustration and resolve.

**Yoongi** (to himself, barely audible): “Choi, you sneaky bastard. You’re in on this too, huh? Makes my job easier.”

Below, Jungkook finally closes the folder, his expression a mix of irritation and determination. He slides the file back across the table to Mr. Choi, his tone decisive.

**Jungkook**: “Fine. I’m coming to the office tonight. Tell Park’s team I’ll be there by seven. This better not be a waste of my time.”

**Mr. Choi** (rising, bowing slightly): “Understood, Mr. Jeon. I’ll inform them immediately. If you’ll excuse me, I should take my leave.”

Jungkook waves a hand dismissively, already pulling his phone from his pocket to check messages. Mr. Choi doesn’t linger. He tucks the folder under his arm and strides toward the study’s heavy double doors, his steps measured but swift. As he exits, he passes through the mansion’s grand foyer, its marble floors echoing under his polished shoes. Outside, the evening air is cool, and he slides into his black sedan, his hands steady as he starts the engine and pulls away from the mansion’s iron gates. Only when he’s a safe distance away does he allow himself a small exhale, his mission complete.

Back in the mansion, Yoongi watches Mr. Choi leave from his vantage point. His mind is already calculating his next move. He knows the device—whatever it is—must be part of a plan to track Y/N, and if Choi’s involved, Namjoon and Taehyung are likely behind it. Yoongi’s own plan to free Y/N is still forming, but this development simplifies things. He doesn’t have to act alone. He starts down the grand staircase, his boots silent on the plush carpet, when Jungkook’s voice cuts through the quiet.

**Jungkook** (calling from the study doorway, tone casual but firm): “Hyung! Hold up.”

Yoongi freezes mid-step, his expression neutral as he turns to face Jungkook, who’s now leaning against the doorframe, his dark eyes unreadable. The air between them is heavy, a silent acknowledgment of the tension that’s been building for weeks.

**Jungkook**: “I’m heading to the office tonight. I need you to keep an eye on Y/N while I’m gone. Make sure she doesn’t… wander.”

Yoongi’s jaw tightens, but he keeps his voice flat, masking the storm of thoughts in his head. He’s tired of Jungkook’s games, tired of watching Y/N suffer, but he knows better than to push back directly—not yet.

**Yoongi** (dryly, meeting Jungkook’s gaze): “Do I have a choice to say no?”

Jungkook’s lips twitch, not quite a smile, more an acknowledgment of their unspoken dynamic. He shakes his head, already turning to head upstairs, his voice trailing behind him.

**Jungkook**: “You know the answer to that. Just do it, hyung.”

Yoongi watches him disappear up the staircase, his footsteps echoing toward Y/N’s room. Jungkook’s going to wake her, probably to keep up his twisted charade of control. Yoongi’s hands clench into fists, but he forces himself to relax. He glances back at the study, picturing the device under the table, and a grim resolve settles over him. Choi’s move has bought him time, and with Jungkook out of the mansion tonight, Yoongi’s chance to act is coming.

**Yoongi** (muttering to himself as he heads for the front door): “Hang on, Y/N. This shit ends soon.”

He steps outside, the cool evening air hitting his face as he pulls his hoodie tighter. The mansion looms behind him, a fortress of secrets and surveillance, but Yoongi’s already planning his next move. With Choi’s device in place and Jungkook distracted, the pieces are falling together. Yoongi slips into his car and drives off, his mind sharp, ready to seize the moment when it comes to pull Y/N from this nightmare.

Meanwhile

Taehyung and Namjoon ‘s POV

The twilight sky over Seoul is bruised with streaks of purple and orange, casting a dim glow over the sprawling Jeon mansion, its iron gates and high walls looming like a fortress 100 meters away. Parked discreetly on a quiet side road, hidden by a cluster of trees, is a sleek black SUV with tinted windows. Inside, Taehyung and Namjoon sit tense, the air thick with anticipation. The car’s interior is a cocoon of high-tech gear—laptops, monitors, and a small receiver linked to the tracking device Mr. Choi planted earlier. Taehyung, in a fitted black leather jacket, grips the steering wheel, his knuckles white, his usually playful demeanor replaced by a simmering rage. Namjoon, in a dark hoodie, hunches over a laptop, his fingers poised over the keyboard, eyes scanning the screen for the signal.

The dashboard clock ticks past 6:45 PM. The silence between them is heavy, broken only by the faint hum of the receiver. Taehyung’s leg bounces restlessly, his jaw clenched as he stares at the mansion’s distant silhouette.

**Taehyung** (muttering, voice low and tight): “Come on, Choi. Where’s the damn signal? We’re running out of time.”

**Namjoon** (calm but focused, not looking up): “Patience, Tae. He’s in there. He’ll get it done.”

Before Taehyung can snap back, the receiver beeps sharply, a green light flashing on Namjoon’s screen. Taehyung’s head whips toward it, his eyes wide.

**Taehyung**: “That’s it?”

**Namjoon** (nodding, fingers flying across the keyboard): “That’s it. He’s planted the device. Give me a second to sync.”

Namjoon’s screen lights up with a digital map of the Jeon mansion, a blinking red dot marking the east wing. The tracking device is live, pinpointing Y/N’s location within a ten-meter radius. Namjoon adjusts his earpiece, and faint audio crackles through, a live feed from the device’s sensitive microphone. Taehyung leans closer, his breath shallow, as the sound of Y/N’s voice—raw and trembling—fills the car.

**Y/N** (voice breaking, laced with hiccups): “Go away, Jungkook! I don’t want to eat!”

Jungkook’s voice follows, low and coaxing, but with an edge that sends a chill through Taehyung.

**Jungkook**: “Baby, you’re pushing my limits. Eat like a good girl, or—”

**Y/N** (screaming, defiant): “Or what? What will you do, you pathetic monster? I hate you! I should’ve trusted Taehyung when he warned me, but I… I trusted you. I loved you, but you’re not worthy of my love, Jungkook!”

A loud crash—glass shattering—cuts through the audio. Taehyung’s eyes widen in horror, his hands gripping the steering wheel so hard it creaks. Namjoon’s jaw tightens, but he keeps his focus on the screen, his fingers steady.

**Taehyung** (whispering, voice shaking): “Shit… what the hell was that?”

**Namjoon** (calm but firm, glancing at Taehyung): “Tae, calm down. No matter what, we’re getting Y/N out of that mansion tonight. Stay focused.”

The audio crackles again, Jungkook’s voice softer now, manipulative, threading through the car.

**Jungkook**: “Baby, breaking things won’t help. Okay, if you don’t want this, how about I order your favorite food?”

**Y/N** (sobbing, voice raw): “Fuck off, Jungkook!”

**Jungkook** (tone darkening, a dangerous lilt): “Ah, baby, you’re acting like a brat now. If you don’t stop, I’ll fuck that bratty attitude out of you.”

**Y/N** (voice rising, desperate): “Is this your love? Caging me, making my life a living hell? What’s my fault, huh?”

**Jungkook**: “No, baby, don’t. I told you, just listen—”

**Y/N** (screaming): “Leave me alone!”

**Jungkook**: “Sleep, baby. You’ll feel better. Just a quick injection—”

**Y/N** (panicked, pleading): “No, please, don’t! I hate injections, please, no!”

**Jungkook** (softer, manipulative): “Okay, okay, I won’t inject you. I promise. Just eat the food, baby.”

**Y/N** (sobbing quietly): “I’ll eat… don’t inject me. I’m scared.”

Taehyung’s face contorts with rage, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He slams his fist against the dashboard, unable to listen anymore.

**Taehyung** (yelling, voice breaking): “That bastard! He’s gonna pay for this, I swear!”

He shoves the car door open and steps out, slamming it so hard the SUV rocks. The cool evening air does nothing to calm the fire in his chest as he paces, his boots crunching against the gravel. Namjoon calls after him, but Taehyung’s too consumed by fury to hear. He turns, ready to storm back to the car, when his body freezes. Standing a few meters away is Mr. Choi, his face pale with shock, and beside him, Yoongi—hood up, a sleek black pistol aimed directly at Taehyung. Yoongi’s lips curl into a smirk, his eyes glinting with a mix of suspicion and amusement.

**Yoongi** (voice low, laced with menace): “So I was right. You’re the mastermind behind all this, aren’t you, Taehyung?”

Taehyung’s hands raise instinctively, his heart pounding, but his voice is defiant.

**Taehyung**: “Put the gun down, hyung. You know what’s going on in there. You can’t be okay with this.”

Namjoon steps out from the other side of the SUV, his own gun drawn, aimed at Yoongi. His voice is calm, measured, cutting through the tension like a blade.

**Namjoon**: “We can talk like civilized people, Yoongi. No need for this. You know Jungkook’s keeping an innocent girl hostage. He’s lost it. You don’t support this, not deep down.”

Yoongi’s jaw clenches, his grip on the gun steady, but his eyes flicker with conflict. He glances at Mr. Choi, who looks like he’s about to bolt, then back at Namjoon and Taehyung.

**Yoongi** (gritting his teeth): “Yeah, and that’s why I’m here. To talk. But I don’t trust you two not to screw this up.”

Namjoon lowers his gun slightly, a gesture of good faith, his voice steady.

**Namjoon**: “Then let’s talk. Prove it, hyung. We’re all here for the same reason—to get Y/N out.”

Yoongi hesitates, then shoves Mr. Choi forward. Taehyung catches him, holding his arm tightly to steady the older man.

**Taehyung** (to Mr. Choi, urgent): “You okay? You need to get out of here before Jungkook suspects anything. Keep him at the office, no matter what.”

Mr. Choi nods, his face still pale but resolute. He glances at Namjoon, then Yoongi, and hurries to his car parked a short distance away. The engine roars to life, and he speeds off, tires screeching against the asphalt.

Namjoon turns to Yoongi, his gun now fully lowered, his expression calculating but open.

**Namjoon**: “I heard you in the mansion, hyung. You saw what Choi did. You know what’s at stake.”

Yoongi’s smirk fades, replaced by a lazy, almost resigned expression. He lowers his gun but keeps it in hand, his posture relaxed but ready.

**Yoongi**: “Yeah, I saw everything. Choi planting that device, Jungkook being a fucking lunatic. I heard it all in the living room. So, what’s your play?”

Namjoon steps closer, his voice firm, cutting through the evening chill.

**Namjoon**: “We’re getting Y/N out tonight. The device is live, we know where she is. Choi’s keeping Jungkook at the office. You in, or are you gonna stand in our way?”

Yoongi’s eyes narrow, but a slow nod betrays his decision. He tucks the gun into his waistband, his voice low and resolute.

**Yoongi**: “I’m in. But we do this smart. Jungkook’s not just crazy—he’s dangerous. And I’m not letting Y/N get caught in the crossfire.”

Taehyung exhales, his rage still simmering but tempered by the alliance forming. He glances at the mansion, its lights glowing ominously in the distance.

**Taehyung**: “Let’s move, then. She doesn’t have much time.”

Namjoon nods, climbing back into the SUV to finalize the extraction plan. Yoongi follows, his steps deliberate, while Taehyung lingers a moment, staring at the mansion, his heart heavy with guilt and determination. The audio feed crackles faintly, Y/N’s soft sobs echoing in his ears, fueling his resolve. Tonight, they’ll end this nightmare—no matter the cost.

To be continued ..