The Jeon mansion looms like a dark monolith under the moonless Seoul sky, its towering walls and iron gates casting ominous shadows. Inside, the air is thick with tension, the silence broken only by the faint hum of security systems and the distant rumble of a car engine fading as Jungkook drives off to his office meeting. The mansion’s grand foyer, with its marble floors and towering chandelier, feels like a stage set for a tragedy. Yoongi steps through the front door, his black hoodie blending into the dim light, his sharp eyes scanning the space. His boots echo softly as he moves, his posture relaxed but alert, every nerve on edge after witnessing Jungkook’s departure.

Jungkook, descending the grand staircase in his tailored black suit, catches sight of Yoongi entering. Their eyes lock for a brief, charged moment—Jungkook’s gaze is heavy with unspoken expectations, Yoongi’s guarded but resolute. Jungkook nods curtly, a silent acknowledgment of Yoongi’s role in watching Y/N, and strides past him toward the door. The roar of his car engine cuts through the night as he speeds away, leaving Yoongi alone in the cavernous foyer.

Yoongi exhales, a weight lifting off his chest. He collapses onto a plush velvet couch near the entrance, his body sinking into the cushions as he runs a hand through his dark hair. The butler, a wiry man in a crisp black uniform, moves to close the heavy front door, but Yoongi’s voice stops him, low and commanding.

**Yoongi**: “Let it stay open. He’s here. Bring me a drink—whiskey, neat.”

The butler nods, his face impassive, and hurries toward the kitchen. Yoongi’s hand slips to his ear, activating a small earbud with a subtle tap. His voice is a whisper, sharp and urgent.

**Yoongi**: “I’m in. Front door’s open. Butler’s distracted. Move fast.”

The butler, unaware of the storm brewing, prepares Yoongi’s drink at a small bar in the adjacent dining room. As he pours the whiskey, a sharp prick stings the back of his shoulder—a tranquilizer dart, silent and precise. His knees buckle, the glass slipping from his hand and shattering on the marble floor. Yoongi is on his feet in an instant, catching the butler before he collapses fully, easing him to the ground. He presses the earbud again, his voice steady but urgent.

**Yoongi**: “I’ve got control inside the mansion. Heading to the back now. Namjoon, it’s your turn. Be quick.”

**Namjoon** (over the earbud, voice clipped): “Copy, hyung. We’re moving.”

Yoongi sprints through the mansion’s labyrinthine halls, his boots silent on the polished floors. He reaches the back exit, a reinforced glass door leading to the sprawling gardens and the escape route he’s memorized. The backyard is a maze of hedges and security lights, but Yoongi knows every blind spot. He pulls two silenced pistols from his waistband, his hands steady, his sniper’s instincts kicking in as he prepares to clear the area.

**Outside, 100 Meters from the Mansion**

The black SUV roars to life, its engine a low growl as Namjoon grips the wheel, his dark hoodie blending into the shadows of the driver’s seat. Taehyung sits beside him, his leather jacket creased from his restless fidgeting, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool night air. His hands tremble as he checks the clip of his gun, his usual confidence shaken by the stakes of the mission. Namjoon glances at him, his expression calm but authoritative, the Mafia King in his element.

**Namjoon**: “You ready, Tae?”

Taehyung meets his gaze, his jaw tight, and nods, though his eyes betray his nerves.

**Taehyung**: “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

Namjoon’s voice is steady, grounding. “Yoongi’s cleared the inside. I’ll handle the guards. You get Y/N. Yoongi’s got the back. We’ve got 20 minutes before the alarms reactivate. Time starts now.”

The SUV surges forward, tires screeching as Namjoon floors the gas, barreling toward the mansion’s gates. The iron barrier looms ahead, but the bulletproof vehicle smashes through with a deafening crunch, sending sparks flyingAllora

System: flying. The guards outside, caught off guard, open fire, their bullets pinging harmlessly off the armored SUV. Namjoon, with the precision of a seasoned predator, leaps out, his silenced pistol barking in rapid succession. The guards drop one by one, tranquilizer rounds rendering them unconscious in seconds. Taehyung bolts from the car, his heart pounding as he sprints toward the mansion’s open front door, his gun drawn but held low.

Inside, Namjoon moves like a shadow through the living area, his gun raised, eyes scanning every corner. The opulent room—filled with leather furniture and priceless art—feels like a warzone now, every shadow a potential threat. He presses his earbud, his voice low.

**Namjoon**: “Tae, where are you?”

**Taehyung** (over the earbud, breathless): “Upstairs. At Y/N’s room. There’s a lock—needs a password.”

**Meanwhile, in the Backyard**

Yoongi is a whirlwind of lethal precision in the moonlit garden. Two guards patrol the perimeter, their rifles raised, but Yoongi’s silenced pistols spit death before they can react. One guard drops near a rose bush, the other by a stone fountain, both hit with tranquilizer darts. Yoongi’s hands move with ambidextrous grace, his sniper’s instincts honed to perfection. The backyard is a battlefield now, bodies strewn across the manicured lawn, but Yoongi’s face remains cold, calculating. He taps his earbud.

**Yoongi**: “Fifteen minutes left, guys. Where are you?”

**Namjoon**: “Living room. Clear so far.”

**Taehyung** (panicked): “I’m at Y/N’s door. The lock’s got a keypad—two tries only. I can’t break it or shoot it.”

**Yoongi** (barking over the earbud): “Then open it, Tae! Figure it out!”

Taehyung stands before the reinforced door to Y/N’s room, his heart hammering. The keypad glows faintly, mocking him. He takes a deep breath, his mind racing. Jungkook’s mother’s birthday—he remembers it from a conversation long ago. His fingers tremble as he types: *I love you, Mom* followed by the date. The lock clicks, and the door swings open.

**Taehyung** (whispering, relieved): “I’m in.”

Inside, Y/N lies on the bed, her breathing soft, her face peaceful in sleep. The room’s soundproofing has shielded her from the chaos outside. Taehyung kneels beside her, his heart breaking at her frail appearance, the faint bruises on her wrists. He brushes a strand of hair from her face, his touch gentle.

**Taehyung** (whispering): “Y/N…”

Her eyes flutter open, wide with disbelief as she sees him. She reaches out, her trembling fingers grazing his face, as if testing reality. Tears spill down her cheeks, and she throws her arms around him, sobbing into his chest.

**Y/N** (choking on sobs): “Tae… you’re here… you’re really here…”

**Taehyung** (rubbing her back, voice thick): “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here. You’re safe now.”

She clings to him, her body shaking. Taehyung lifts her onto his shoulder with care, her weight light as a feather. He moves swiftly, carrying her down the grand staircase, his gun still in hand but his focus on her safety.

**Taehyung** (into the earbud): “I’ve got Y/N. Heading out.”

**Namjoon and Yoongi** (in unison, over the earbud): “Copy.”

Taehyung emerges into the foyer, where Namjoon waits, his gun still raised, eyes scanning for threats. Outside, Yoongi joins them, his pistols holstered, his face grim but composed. The front lawn is littered with unconscious guards, their bodies sprawled like broken dolls. Y/N gasps, her hand flying to her mouth.

**Y/N** (voice trembling): “Oh my God… I killed them. They’re dead because of me…”

**Yoongi** (quickly, stepping closer): “No, sweetheart. They’re not dead. I used tranquilizers. Ambulance is on the way. They’ll be fine.”

Y/N’s eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed, and Taehyung gently settles her into the back seat of the SUV. He slides in beside her, his arm around her shoulders, whispering reassurances. Namjoon takes the driver’s seat, but Yoongi lingers outside, his expression unreadable. Y/N looks at him through the open window, her voice weak but pleading.

**Y/N**: “Oppa, come with us. Please.”

Yoongi steps closer, patting her head gently through the window. His eyes soften, but his voice is firm.

**Yoongi**: “No, kid. I can’t leave him. Jungkook’s my brother, messed up as he is. I’m going to find someone who can handle him. You go with them.”

**Taehyung** (urgent, leaning out): “Hyung, he’ll kill you if he finds out you helped us. Come on!”

Yoongi shakes his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He glances at Namjoon, who’s watching him with a mix of respect and concern.

**Yoongi**: “I know where I’m going. I’ll catch up with you soon. I’m trusting you with her, Tae. Don’t make me regret it.”

Y/N grabs Yoongi’s hand, tears streaming down her face. “Oppa, please…”

Namjoon starts the engine, his voice low but resolute. “He’s right, Y/N. We need to move. Yoongi can handle himself.”

Taehyung pulls Y/N’s hand back gently, his own eyes glistening as he holds her close. The SUV lurches forward, tires crunching over the gravel as they speed away from the mansion. Y/N’s sobs fill the car, her face buried in Taehyung’s chest.

**Y/N** (whispering): “No… he can’t stay…”

**Taehyung** (soothing, his voice breaking): “He’ll be okay. He’s Yoongi. He’s got this.”

As the SUV disappears into the night, Yoongi turns back toward the mansion. The alarms begin to wail, their piercing shrieks cutting through the silence. Yoongi’s hand moves to his gun, and with a steady breath, he presses it to his stomach. A muffled shot rings out, and he staggers, collapsing onto the cold marble steps of the foyer. Blood seeps through his fingers, but his lips curve into a faint smile as he hears the distant wail of sirens—help is coming, just as planned.

The doctors and paramedics burst through the door moments later, their shouts echoing as they rush to his side. Yoongi’s eyes flutter shut, his breathing shallow but steady, the smile lingering as he slips into unconsciousness, knowing he’s bought Y/N her freedom—and maybe, just maybe, a chance to save Jungkook from himself.

Meanwhile Jungkook's Pov

The Jeon mansion is a fortress plunged into chaos, its once-pristine halls now echoing with the shrill wail of alarms. The grand foyer, illuminated by the cold glow of the chandelier, is littered with the aftermath of the rescue—shattered glass from a fallen vase, a toppled side table, and the faint scent of gunpowder lingering in the air. Outside, the distant wail of sirens grows fainter as the paramedics rush Yoongi to safety, leaving the mansion eerily silent save for the alarms. Jungkook’s black sports car screeches to a halt at the front gates, the engine’s roar dying as he leaps out, his tailored suit jacket flapping open, revealing a half-untucked dress shirt. His face is a mask of fury, his dark eyes wild with panic and rage, his hair disheveled from running his hands through it during the frantic drive back from the office.

He storms through the open front door, his boots pounding against the marble floor, his breath ragged. The mansion feels wrong—too quiet, too empty. His heart hammers in his chest, a sickening dread clawing at him as he calls out, his voice raw and desperate.

**Jungkook**: “Y/N! Baby, where are you?!”

His shout echoes unanswered through the cavernous halls. He sprints up the grand staircase, two steps at a time, his hands gripping the banister for balance. The door to Y/N’s room is ajar, the keypad lock blinking red, its mechanism disengaged. Jungkook shoves the door open, his eyes darting frantically across the room. The bed is empty, the silk sheets rumpled, the plate from her earlier meal still on the table. The air feels heavy with her absence, as if the room itself mourns her loss. His chest tightens, his breath hitching as he stumbles forward, his hands trembling as he touches the pillow where she’d been lying just hours ago.

**Jungkook** (whispering, voice breaking): “No… no, no, no… Y/N, where are you?!”

His voice rises to a roar, a mix of anguish and fury, as he tears through the room, ripping open the closet, checking under the bed, as if she could be hiding somewhere. The reality hits him like a freight train—she’s gone. Someone took her. His knees buckle for a moment, but rage surges through him, propelling him back to his feet. His fists clench, nails digging into his palms, drawing blood.

**Jungkook** (screaming, voice hoarse): “Who did this?! Who took my Y/N?!”

He stumbles out of the room, his vision blurring with tears he refuses to acknowledge. His mind races, piecing together fragments—Mr. Choi’s urgent meeting, Yoongi’s strange behavior, the open front door. Betrayal burns in his gut as he barrels down the stairs, his boots slipping on the marble. He heads straight for the security room, a fortified chamber tucked behind the living area, its walls lined with monitors and control panels. The alarms are still blaring, but only one screen flickers with life—the living area camera, looping footage from earlier that night.

Jungkook slams the door open, his chest heaving as he staggers to the console. His fingers fumble with the controls, rewinding the footage, his heart pounding so loud it drowns out the alarms. The screen shifts, and what he sees rips the air from his lungs. Kim Namjoon, the Mafia King, moves through the living area like a predator, his gun raised, his face calm but lethal. Behind him, Taehyung emerges from the staircase, Y/N slung over his shoulder, her body limp but alive. They move with purpose, disappearing through the front door as Yoongi’s figure lingers in the background, his pistols drawn, guarding their exit.

Jungkook’s world collapses. His vision tunnels, the edges darkening as his breath comes in short, ragged gasps. Namjoon. Taehyung. They took her. His Y/N. His love. The betrayal cuts deeper than any knife, slicing through the fragile threads of trust he’d clung to. His hands shake as he grips the edge of the console, his knuckles white.

**Jungkook** (whispering, voice trembling with rage): “Namjoon… Taehyung… you bastards.”

His voice rises to a guttural roar as he grabs the nearest chair, a heavy leather monstrosity, and hurls it at the monitor. The screen shatters in a cascade of sparks and glass, the footage of Y/N’s escape vanishing in a burst of static. He screams, his voice raw, echoing through the empty mansion.

**Jungkook**: “Namjoon, I will kill you! You hear me?! You’ll pay for this! I’ll get my Y/N back, you fucking thief!”

He kicks the console, sending another monitor crashing to the floor, its frame splintering. His chest heaves, his eyes wild with a manic fury that borders on madness. He paces the room, his hands tearing at his hair, his mind spiraling. Yoongi’s face in the footage flashes in his memory—his hyung, his brother, standing with them. The betrayal is a physical pain, a knife twisting in his gut.

**Jungkook** (muttering, voice low and venomous): “Yoongi… you too? You let them take her? After everything?”

He storms out of the security room, his boots crunching over broken glass, his mind racing with plans—revenge, retribution, anything to bring Y/N back. He grabs his phone, his fingers shaking as he dials a number, his voice cold and commanding when the call connects.

**Jungkook**: “Get me everything on Namjoon and Taehyung. Now. I want their locations, their plans, their fucking weaknesses. They took what’s mine, and I’m getting her back.”

He hangs up without waiting for a response, his eyes blazing as he stares out the foyer’s open door into the night. The alarms continue to wail, a fitting soundtrack to his unraveling. Y/N’s absence is a void in his chest, a wound that fuels his rage. He clenches his fists, blood dripping from where his nails have broken the skin, and vows to himself in a whisper that carries the weight of a death sentence.

**Jungkook**: “I’m coming for you, baby. And they’ll all burn for taking you from me.”

The mansion stands silent around him, its grandeur mocking his loss, as Jungkook’s fury builds, a storm ready to tear the world apart to reclaim what he believes is his.

Time skips 2 hours Later

The Jeon mansion, once a fortress of opulence, now feels like a mausoleum, its grand halls swallowed by shadows and the piercing wail of alarms that have only just fallen silent. The air is thick with the aftermath of chaos—shattered glass crunches underfoot in the foyer, the chandelier’s golden light flickering as if struggling to hold back the darkness. Jungkook stumbles through the living area, his tailored suit disheveled, his dress shirt untucked, and his dark hair plastered to his sweat-slicked forehead. His eyes are wild, bloodshot, darting from corner to corner as if Y/N might still be hiding somewhere, as if this nightmare is a cruel trick. His breath comes in ragged gasps, his fists clenched, nails biting into his palms, leaving crescents of blood. The betrayal of Namjoon, Taehyung, and Yoongi burns in his chest, fueling a manic fury that drives him to pace the mansion like a caged beast.

He mutters to himself, his voice a low, guttural growl, barely coherent. **Jungkook**: “Y/N… my Y/N… they can’t take you… I’ll find you… I’ll kill them all…”

His boots echo on the marble floor as he moves toward the staircase, intent on scouring every room again, when the heavy front doors burst open with a thunderous crash. Floodlights from outside pierce the foyer, blinding him momentarily. Jungkook freezes, his heart lurching as silhouettes fill the doorway—uniformed police officers, their badges glinting, and behind them, Mr. Choi, his gray suit pristine but his face etched with a mix of pity and resolve. Two massive bodyguards, clad in black tactical gear, flank the group, their expressions unreadable but their presence menacing.

Jungkook’s eyes narrow, his body tensing like a coiled spring. **Jungkook** (screaming, voice raw): “What the hell is this?! Get out of my house!”

An officer steps forward, a stern woman with a clipboard, her voice calm but authoritative. **Officer**: “Mr. Jeon Jungkook, we have a court order for your immediate transfer to a mental health facility for evaluation and treatment. Please come with us peacefully.”

Jungkook’s laugh is sharp, unhinged, echoing through the foyer like a gunshot. **Jungkook**: “Treatment? You think I’m crazy? You’re all in on it, aren’t you? Namjoon sent you! Where’s Y/N? Where’s my Y/N?!”

He lunges toward the officer, but the bodyguards move faster, their massive hands clamping onto his arms with iron grips. Jungkook thrashes, his strength fueled by desperation, but the guards are immovable, their faces stoic as they restrain him. He kicks out, knocking over a decorative table, sending a porcelain vase crashing to the floor in a spray of shards.

**Jungkook** (roaring, voice breaking): “Let me go! You can’t do this! She’s mine! I need her! Y/N!”

Mr. Choi steps forward, his eyes heavy with something akin to sorrow. He’s known Jungkook for years, watched him spiral from a brilliant young man to this shadow of obsession and paranoia. His voice is soft, almost fatherly, but it carries a weight that cuts through Jungkook’s frenzy.

**Mr. Choi**: “Jungkook, this is for your own good. You’re not well. You need help. Y/N… she’s safe now. You have to let her go.”

Jungkook’s head snaps toward him, his eyes blazing with betrayal. **Jungkook**: “You… you traitor! You were in on this too? You let them take her! I trusted you!”

He strains against the bodyguards, his muscles bulging, veins popping in his neck, but they hold him firm, dragging him toward the door. His screams echo, raw and primal, as he fights to break free, his boots scraping against the marble.

**Jungkook**: “I’ll kill you all! I’ll find her! You can’t keep her from me!”

Mr. Choi steps forward, his eyes heavy with something akin to sorrow. He’s known Jungkook for years, watched him spiral from a brilliant young man to this shadow of obsession and paranoia. His voice is soft, almost fatherly, but it carries a weight that cuts through Jungkook’s frenzy.

**Mr. Choi**: “Jungkook, this is for your own good. You’re not well. You need help. Y/N… she’s safe now. You have to let her go.”

Jungkook’s head snaps toward him, his eyes blazing with betrayal. **Jungkook**: “You… you traitor! You were in on this too? You let them take her! I trusted you!”

He strains against the bodyguards, his muscles bulging, veins popping in his neck, but they hold him firm, dragging him toward the door. His screams echo, raw and primal, as he fights to break free, his boots scraping against the marble.

**Jungkook**: “I’ll kill you all! I’ll find her! You can’t keep her from me!”

Mr. Choi watches, his face a mask of pity and resolve, as the bodyguards force Jungkook outside. The floodlights bathe the scene in harsh white light, illuminating the chaos—Jungkook’s thrashing form, the officers forming a perimeter, and the ambulance waiting beyond the gates, its red and blue lights pulsing like a heartbeat. Jungkook is shoved into the back of the vehicle, his shouts muffled as the doors slam shut. The bodyguards stand guard, ensuring he doesn’t break free, as the ambulance pulls away, its siren cutting through the night.

Mr. Choi lingers in the foyer, the silence deafening now that Jungkook’s screams have faded. He exhales, his shoulders sagging, the weight of his actions settling over him like a shroud. He pulls out his phone, his fingers steady as he dials a number, his voice low and measured when the call connects.

**Mr. Choi**: “Sir, it’s done. Jungkook’s been taken to the facility, just as you instructed.”

A deep, gravelly voice responds, calm but laced with authority. **Voice**: “Good, Mr. Choi. You know what’s next. Wait a few days, then inform Y/N of everything—where she is, what’s happened. I’ll be there soon. I’ll handle Jungkook myself. And take care of Yoongi. He’s played his part.”

**Mr. Choi**: “Understood, sir. Yoongi’s stable, in the hospital. I’ll ensure he’s looked after.”

The call ends with a click, and Mr. Choi pockets the phone, his expression unreadable. He moves through the foyer, his steps deliberate, pausing to survey the wreckage—broken glass, toppled furniture, the remnants of Jungkook’s unraveling. He reaches the front doors, pulling them shut with a heavy thud, and locks them with a key from his pocket. The mansion is sealed, a tomb for the chaos it held. Mr. Choi steps outside, the cool night air biting at his skin, and slides into his black sedan parked beyond the gates. The engine hums to life, and he drives off, the mansion shrinking in his rearview mirror, its lights flickering like a dying star.

Inside, the empty halls echo with the ghosts of Jungkook’s screams, the weight of his obsession lingering in the air. Outside, the world moves on, but for Jungkook, locked-away and raging, and for Y/N, now free but haunted, the story is far from over. Mr. Choi’s car disappears into the night, carrying secrets that will soon unravel, as the mysterious figure on the phone prepares to step into the fray, ready to confront the wreckage of Jungkook’s world.

To be continued..