27

[Y/n's POV]

As we cruised down the dark, winding road, the tension in the car was suffocating. I sat in the front passenger seat, staring at the rearview mirror, watching Namjoon squirm in the backseat.

His mouth was duct-taped, his eyes darting around wildly as he shifted uncomfortably. Seri, his own wife, held him at gunpoint, her face hard as stone. Jimin sat next to him, silent but deadly, his eyes never leaving Namjoon.

Driving the Porsche had never felt so powerful for Jungkook. His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, his jaw clenched in concentration.

The car hummed beneath us, a smooth and powerful machine, just like the man driving it. I could feel the adrenaline still coursing through me, but it was nothing compared to what was coming.

We were heading back to the hotel where all this madness started. Namjoon had tried to capture me by barricading the pool area, thinking he had the upper hand. But Jungkook had outplayed him. I smirked at the thought.

Namjoon had no idea he’d been walking right into a trap the whole time. He thought he was the mastermind, but it was Jungkook who had pulled the strings.

As we approached the hotel, Namjoon’s eyes caught sight of the workers he’d paid off earlier. His body stiffened in the backseat, and a muffled grunt escaped his taped mouth.

Jungkook glanced at him through the rearview mirror, smirking as if he knew exactly what Namjoon was thinking.

“Relax, you’re not in charge anymore,” Jungkook muttered under his breath, rolling down the window and motioning to the hotel staff. “Prepare the safe room. Disarm him. Don’t let him out of your sight.”

The workers nodded and hurried off. Namjoon’s grunts became more frantic, his body thrashing in the seat as the realization hit him. He’d been doubled over.

This whole thing—everything he thought he had control over—was just part of Jungkook’s plan. And now, there was no way out.

We parked in front of the hotel, and I got out of the car first, my legs shaky but steady enough to walk. Seri dragged Namjoon out of the backseat, her gun still pointed at his head as she shoved him forward.

He stumbled, his hands bound, his mouth taped, and his eyes full of fury. Jimin followed behind, his face a mask of silent anger, his fingers twitching near his own weapon, ready to strike at any moment.

We headed inside, Jungkook speaking into his earpiece, giving orders to his men. “Be on standby. We’re heading up now. No one moves until I give the word.”

As we entered the conference hall, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The room was large and empty, the echo of our footsteps bouncing off the walls.

Namjoon was shoved into a chair in the center of the room, his eyes darting around as if looking for a way out. There was none.

Seri, standing over him, didn’t waste any time. She yanked the duct tape off his mouth with a brutal rip, and Namjoon winced but quickly recovered, his eyes flashing with defiance.

“You’re gonna pay for this, Seri,” he spat, his voice hoarse but laced with venom. “You think you can do this to me and get away with it?”

Seri didn’t even flinch. Her gun was still pointed at him, and her expression was colder than I’d ever seen.

“Shut the fuck up, Namjoon. You’re not in control anymore. I am.”

She took a step closer, her voice low and deadly. “Where’s the safe mechanism for the Phoenix MK-VI? The one Y/n's, father built to destroy Pheonix. Where is it?”

Namjoon let out a dark, humorless chuckle, leaning back in the chair as if this was all some kind of joke. “You really think I’m gonna tell you that, Seri? After everything?”

Seri’s face twisted in rage. She backhanded him across the face with the butt of her gun, the sound of the impact echoing in the room. “I’m not playing, Namjoon. Where the fuck is it?”

Namjoon’s lip bled, but he only laughed harder, his eyes gleaming with a sick sort of satisfaction.

“Oh, Seri… my sweet, betraying wife. You think you’re so righteous, don’t you? Acting like you’re on some moral high ground. But let’s not forget—you betrayed your own husband for this.”

Seri’s hands trembled slightly, but she tightened her grip on the gun, her eyes burning with fury.

“You wanted global destruction, Namjoon. You wanted to bring the world to its knees. Don’t talk to me about betrayal when you were willing to burn everything to the ground.”

Namjoon smirked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “And you think you’re any better? You sided with them. You betrayed your own blood for what? To stop me? Tell me, Seri, how does it feel to know you're nothing but a traitor?”

Seri’s face twisted in anger, and she swung the gun at him again, but this time Namjoon blocked it with his bound hands, laughing through the pain.

Jimin, who had been silently watching from the corner, stepped forward, his face dark with anger. "Enough of your bullshit, Namjoon. We don’t have time for your games."

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, looking at Jimin with a smirk. "Oh, look, it's the little lapdog. Still playing second fiddle, I see?"

Jimin's jaw clenched, and without warning, he stepped forward and slammed his fist into Namjoon’s gut. Namjoon let out a grunt of pain, but the grin never left his face. If anything, it only seemed to make him more smug.

"That is all you got, Jimin?" Namjoon sneered, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "You think a little pain is going to make me talk? You really are a fool."

Jimin didn't respond, but his eyes burned with fury. I could see the tension in his muscles, the way his hands were shaking with the urge to do more damage.

He wasn’t going to let Namjoon off easily.

"Tell us where the safe mechanism is," Jimin demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

Namjoon laughed again, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "And why would I do that? You all think you're so clever, but you have no idea what you're up against. You’re just children playing at being heroes."

Jimin’s face twisted with rage, and before I could stop him, he grabbed a pair of pliers from the table beside him and held them up in front of Namjoon's face. "You think this is a joke?" he snarled. "Let's see how funny it is when I start pulling your nails out."

For the first time, Namjoon’s smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the pliers. But still, he didn’t back down.

"Go ahead," he muttered, his voice defiant. "Do your worst. It won’t change anything."

Without hesitation, Jimin grabbed Namjoon’s hand and yanked his pinky finger forward, positioning the pliers around the nail.

Namjoon tensed, but he didn’t flinch, even as Jimin slowly applied pressure, the metal of the pliers digging into the flesh.

“Jimin, stop,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the tension in the room. But Jimin didn’t listen. He was too far gone, too consumed by his own anger.

With a swift, brutal motion, Jimin ripped Namjoon’s pinky nail off, blood spurting from the raw flesh.

Namjoon let out a sharp hiss of pain, his body convulsing in the chair, but even then, he didn’t give Jimin the satisfaction of a scream.

Seri let out a frustrated growl, turning to Jungkook, who had been watching silently from the sidelines. “He’s not gonna talk.”

Jungkook stepped forward, his face set in stone, his eyes cold and unfeeling as he looked down at Namjoon. “Oh, he’ll talk. He just needs the right motivation.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened slightly as Jungkook pulled out a knife, twirling it in his hand as he walked closer. “You know, Namjoon, you’re a lot less intimidating when you’re tied up like this. Kinda funny, actually.”

Namjoon swallowed hard, his bravado faltering for just a moment. “You’re not gonna do shit, Jungkook. You’re too soft.”

Jungkook’s smile was ice cold. “You don’t know me very well, do you? You think you can hurt my brother, hurt my Y/n, and get away with it?”

Without warning, Jungkook pressed the knife against Namjoon’s throat, the sharp blade just barely breaking the skin. Namjoon’s breath hitched, and for the first time since we captured him, he looked scared.

“You’ve got one chance,” Jungkook whispered, his voice low and deadly. “Tell us where the mechanism is, or I’ll carve it out of you piece by piece.”

Namjoon’s eyes flashed with defiance, but his grin was shaky now, the pain starting to take its toll.

"Your love for Jimin is pathetic," he rasped, his voice strained. "He’s nothing but a betrayer. Just like Seri. You surround yourself with traitors, Jungkook. What does that say about you?"

Jungkook’s grip tightened, his eyes blazing with rage. "Shut the fuck up," he growled. "Jimin is more of a man than you’ll ever be. And as for Y/n..." His voice dropped, turning deadly.

"If you ever try to hurt her again, I’ll make sure you wish you were dead."

Namjoon scoffed, wincing from the pain. "You think you can scare me, Jungkook? You think your love for that girl makes you strong? You’re a fool."

Jimin’s patience snapped at that moment. With a vicious snarl, he grabbed Namjoon’s hand again and yanked out another nail, this time without hesitation.

Namjoon let out a strangled cry, his body jerking violently in the chair, but Jimin wasn’t done. He leaned in close, his voice low and seething with rage.

"Say another word about Jungkook or Y/n, and I’ll make sure you don’t have any fingers left," Jimin hissed, his eyes blazing with fury. "You don’t get to talk about them. Not after everything you’ve done."

Namjoon coughed, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His face was pale, sweat dripping down his temples, but still, he managed to grin through the pain. "You think this changes anything? You think torturing me will make me talk?"

I stepped forward then, my voice calm but firm. "You’re going to tell us where the safe mechanism is, Namjoon. You’ve already lost. Stop pretending you have any control left."

Namjoon’s eyes flickered toward me, his expression unreadable for a moment. "And what makes you think I’ll tell you?" he asked, his voice quieter now, though still laced with defiance.

I leaned down, getting in his face, my voice low. "Because if you don’t, we’ll make sure you never see the light of day again. We’ll make sure your legacy is nothing but ashes. You think you’re some kind of mastermind, but you’re nothing without your father’s invention. And once we have the mechanism, you’ll be nothing but a footnote in history."

Namjoon’s smirk grew wider, "Y/n darling! What a nice way you've chosen to pay me back for your CV enhancement I did. Didn't you like the internship huh?"

"Shut up, Namjoon. Just fucking answer where the safe mechanism is.", I growled.

Namjoon seemed to look at me for a minute before contemplating and after a good one minute pause, he said, "Fine."

"I’ll tell you. Get me a phone, I'll get the safe mechanism."

Something about Namjoon said that he was playing at sometime bigger by voluntarily giving in, but what choices could he even have?

The hotel was under our seize.

He was held captive.

We had the Pheonix in our control.

Jimin, Seri, Jungkook and I stood United.

What possibly Kim Namjoon do to get any advantage?

Perhaps he has just accepted his fate of losing to us.

Oh boy, if I knew I was so wrong in thinking that..... Kim Namjoon was a genius. A genius who, inspite of being in a captive from where he can't run away, had the capacity to turn one of ours against us only.

The man who could play divide and rule better than anyone could.

The man who could turn his enemies into his weapons.

----

[Jungkook's POV]

The moment Namjoon asked for a phone call, I knew something was up. The bastard was too calm, too collected for a man who had just endured the level of torture we’d put him through.

But against my better judgment, Jimin handed him the phone. He tapped it on speaker, a cautious smirk tugging at his lips, making sure Namjoon wouldn’t try anything funny.

Namjoon cleared his throat, his voice gruff but authoritative, “Bring the bromine bars. Now. We need them infused with the lightning conductors. Don’t delay.”

There was a brief pause on the other end before a voice responded, “Understood. ETA fifteen minutes.”

Jimin’s finger hovered over the end call button as he shot a glare at Namjoon. “Try anything, and I swear it’ll be the last thing you do.”

Namjoon leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips. “Don’t worry. I want to see this unfold just as much as you do.”

Moments later, one of his men arrived, cautiously asking for authorized access. Jimin, always on edge, accepted the package. It was the bromine bars, infused with lightning conductors, exactly what we needed to disarm the Phoenix MK-VI.

Jimin handed the bars over to me without a word, his eyes sharp and watching every move Namjoon made.

Setting them aside for a moment, I opened my laptop and connected to the Phoenix system. The download began immediately, lines of code flashing across the screen as I accessed the weapon's data.

The bars were activated, infused with lightening conductors, and I had to make sure everything was perfect. One wrong move and it was over.

Namjoon had been silent for a while, his head leaning against the chair, blood smearing his face from Jimin’s earlier hits. But then, the laughter started. Soft at first, just a chuckle, barely audible.

Then louder.

More insistent.

Mocking.

“What’s so funny?” I snarled, my focus wavering as I glanced over at him, the edges of my vision blurring with irritation.

Namjoon smiled, the blood on his lips making it look like a grotesque, twisted version of joy. “You never wondered, did you?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I spat, fingers slowing on the keyboard as I tried to keep my concentration. But something in his tone, in his eyes, was pulling me in.

Namjoon leaned forward as much as his restraints would allow, his voice dripping with venom. “Why I did all this? Why I chose to hurt you and your precious Y/n? You think this is just some power play?”

Jimin, standing off to the side, seethed, stepping forward and slamming his fist into Namjoon’s side. “Shut up!” he barked, his voice filled with rage. “Don’t try and get in his head.”

Namjoon winced, but the smirk didn’t leave his face. If anything, it grew wider. “Ah, Jimin. So loyal. So protective of your younger brother.

Namjoon’s smirk grew. “Your daddy, Jungkook. You ever wonder how many other kids he had? I mean, you and Jimin—are you sure that’s where the list ends? Or are there a few more half-brothers running around, thanks to Daddy’s wandering dick?”

Jimin slammed a fist into Namjoon’s side, the sound of the impact satisfying, but Namjoon barely flinched. His smile didn’t falter, not for a second.

“You’re lying,” I muttered, but my hands slowed on the keyboard. I could feel that cold doubt creeping in. My old demons knocking on the door.

Namjoon scoffed. “Lying? You really think your dad was faithful? To your mom? To Gumeun? To anyone? Come on, Jungkook. You know what kind of man he was. You’re just too scared to admit it. Hell, for all you know, you’ve got more siblings than you can count. Maybe one of ‘em is out there, just as pissed off as you are, plotting their revenge. Or maybe you already met them.”

Jimin hit him again, but Namjoon only grinned wider. Blood smeared across his face, mixing with that disgusting smile.

“And your mother...” Namjoon paused, leaning back, eyes glinting with sick enjoyment. “Oh, she was a real piece of work, wasn’t she? Always moaning so loud when you called her, never gave a shit if you heard. You think she was thinking about you? Nah, she was too busy getting her fill, wasn’t she? She couldn’t keep her legs closed for a second.”

My stomach churned. “Shut up,” I spat, my voice low, but weak. He was getting to me, and he knew it.

“Oh, I’ve hit a nerve, haven’t I?” Namjoon chuckled, blood dripping down his chin. “You ever wonder where you get it from?

That thirst, that need for sex?

It’s in your blood, Jungkook.

You’re just like her.

Addicted.

Just waiting for the next fuck, the next hit.

Hell, you used to be a junkie for it, didn’t you?

Before Y/n?

You think she doesn’t know? You think she doesn’t wonder?”

Jimin’s fist flew again, connecting with Namjoon’s face, but the bastard barely flinched. He wiped at the blood with his sleeve and laughed.

“You think this hurts? Nah. I’ve had worse. But you... you’re fucking unraveling right in front of me. Look at you, fingers barely moving. You’re scared, aren’t you, Jungkook? Scared that you’re exactly like your parents. Just another broken asshole pretending he’s in control. You think Y/n doesn’t see that? You think she doesn’t know what you really are?”

I couldn’t focus. My hands were frozen on the keyboard.

Every word he spoke felt like a punch to the gut.

Every insecurity I’d ever buried was boiling to the surface.

Jimin, furious, yanked Namjoon forward by his collar. “Shut the fuck up!” he screamed, his voice raw with rage. “You don’t know anything about him!”

But Namjoon, even bleeding and bruised, was relentless. “Oh, I don’t know anything, huh? Tell me, Jimin, have you ever really looked at him? He’s his father’s son, through and through. You know what kind of man he was. You know the truth, don’t you?”

Jimin’s fist connected with Namjoon’s jaw again, but the grin stayed. “It’s eating you alive, isn’t it, Jimin? You’ve seen him spiral. You’ve seen him lose control in sex. And you’re still standing there, pretending you don’t know what he’s capable of.”

I couldn’t take it. His words were ringing in my head, twisting every thought, every memory. I stared at the computer screen, the data right in front of me, but I couldn’t focus. My mind was in chaos.

“And you, Jungkook... do you really think you’re any better than me?” Namjoon’s voice was soft now, but the venom was still there. “You and I... we’re cut from the same cloth. We’re both cynical, both broken. You think you can just ignore that? Isn't it quite interesting that we even look so ......similar?"

Jimin hit him again, blood splattering across the floor, but it didn’t stop Namjoon. His words were already digging deep, festering in my brain like an infection.

“Why do you think you’re so cynical, Jungkook? You’ve always been suspicious, always doubting everyone around you. You know why that is? Because you’re just like me. We’re both fucked in the head. We’re both rotten to the core.”

“Shut him up!” Jimin yelled, his voice filled with panic now. Seri rushed forward with the duct tape, ready to silence Namjoon, but it was too late.

He had already planted the seed of doubt in Jungkook.

“Jungkook,” Jimin’s voice was close now, but distant, like he was speaking underwater. “Don’t listen to him. Don’t let him get in your head.”

But I already had.

Namjoon’s voice was louder than Jimin’s, louder than my own.

He was inside my head, and I couldn’t get him out.

Everything was spiraling.

I could feel it—my thoughts, the room, the people in it. All of it swirling in slow motion while my heart pounded faster than it had any right to. Namjoon’s voice was like poison, sinking into my skull, infecting my brain.

The words—his words—were still ringing in my ears.

"You're just like me."

No. I wasn’t like him.

I couldn’t be.

But as I stood there, hands shaking, fingers too stiff to keep working at the keyboard, something inside me twisted.

My stomach churned like I was going to vomit, but the feeling was deeper than that. It was like my soul was decaying, bit by bit.

I looked at Namjoon.

His bloodied face was still wearing that smug, arrogant smirk. His eyes were locked onto mine like he knew exactly what was happening in my head, like he could read every thought. The bile rose in my throat as his words kept playing on repeat in my mind.

“Your daddy, Jungkook. You sure you’re the only one?”

I couldn’t focus.

I couldn’t breathe.

My fingers slipped from the keyboard, and I froze.

Everything around me seemed to fade. I couldn’t hear Y/n’s soft breaths, or the tension in Jimin’s silence.

All I could hear was Namjoon’s sick, twisted voice.

“You’re just like me. We’re both fucked in the head.”

I took a step back, my chest tight.

Namjoon’s eyes flicked to the side, catching Seri moving closer with the duct tape, and something inside me snapped. Without thinking, I pulled the revolver from my waist, the cold steel heavy in my palm.

It was like a second skin, something I’d always known how to use.

Something I’d been second time born with.

I raised the gun, aiming straight at Seri.

My voice was low, barely above a whisper, but filled with venom.

“Step back, Seri.”

Her eyes widened in shock, and she froze mid-step. Jimin cursed, stepping forward, but I shot him a look—dangerous, cold.

The kind of dangerous and cold he always wanted me to become.

The second revolver was in my other hand, now pointing directly at my own head.

“Jungkook, what the fuck are you doing?” Jimin’s voice was rough, threatening, but I could hear the fear in it. His hand twitched toward his own gun, but he hesitated.

I smiled—a twisted, grotesque thing. “You know what I’m doing, Jimin.” I cocked the gun against my temple. “One wrong move, and I’m gone. You love me, right? Y/n loves me, too. One click, and that’s it. You gonna risk that?”

Y/n’s voice was shaking, her fear palpable. “Jungkook, stop. Please. We need to destroy the Phoenix. This is bigger than—”

“Shut the fuck up!” I snapped, my voice harsh, cutting. I turned to her, and for a second, the fear in her eyes made my stomach twist, but I pushed it down.

“You think I give a shit about that weapon right now? You think I care about anything but the truth?”

She took a step back, her hands trembling at her sides. Jimin’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t move. Seri stood frozen, the duct tape still clutched in her hand.

I lowered the second gun, pressing it against Namjoon’s throat, feeling the cold metal dig into his skin. His breath was ragged, but the smirk on his face hadn’t faded.

If anything, it had grown wider.

He was messing with my head.

He was breaking me apart and he knew it.

He was dividing us, but I couldn't stop him.

I lowered the second gun, pressing it against Namjoon’s throat, feeling the cold metal dig into his skin. His breath was ragged, but the smirk on his face hadn’t faded. If anything, it had grown wider.

“Keep talking,” I growled, my voice barely controlled. “You’re not done yet.”

Namjoon chuckled, the sound sickening, vile. “Oh, I’m not done, Jungkook. Not by a long shot.” He leaned forward, the barrel of the gun pressing harder against his throat.

“You think Jimin cares about you, huh? You think he’s really on your side? The same Jimin who stabbed you in the back before, who betrayed you for power. You really think he’s loyal?” Namjoon’s voice was dripping with sarcasm, every word meant to cut deep.

I need to know the truth.

What was the thing that caused my Y/n .... And my brother Jimin to betray me?

What have they been hiding?

What is it that Namjoon knows and I don't?

Jimin’s fists clenched at his sides, his body vibrating with tension. “Don’t listen to him, Jungkook. He’s trying to fuck with you. Put the gun down.”

I ignored him.

“Go on, Namjoon,” I said, my voice low.

“Tell me more.”.....A/n : It is important to understand Jungkook as a character here. He is someone who can be triggered dangerously (as shown in previous chapter about how Jimin had manipulated Jungkook into becoming a hard hearted man). Namjoon is just using this trick to divide Jungkook's head — and it is working.

Whosoever in the comments wants to thrash JK for being so naive, or stupid, don't do so. He is bound by his own triggers and he is helpless in this case.