Sometimes you dont realize the weight of something you've been carrying until you feel the weight of it's release...

Jungkook closed the door after settling into the passenger seat, his gaze immediately falling on his noona. The stress lines etched on her face were stark against her usual confident demeanor. She wasn't looking triumphant; instead, there was a shadow of turmoil that weighed heavily on her. He noticed the way her knuckles turned white as she gripped the steering wheel, her breathing uneven. Jungkook had been with her long enough to recognize the signs of emotional pain lurking beneath her tough exterior.

"Noona, you don't look good. Are you fine?" he asked softly, concern lacing his voice.

"I should be the one asking you. Show me where you're hurt," she replied, her tone sharp as she ignored his question.

"I'm okay. It's just a slight cut." Jungkook laughed it off, though internally he thought, I might pass out if this keeps up.

"Stop lying. Now turn around."

With a defeated sigh, Jungkook complied, exposing his back. Sri's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the six-inch-long cut, blood seeping through the fabric and staining his blazer. In the world of gangsters, getting hurt was part of the job, but seeing her brother in pain made something twist painfully in her chest.

"I hope Arin gave them an awful death," she said through gritted teeth, her voice low and fierce as she pressed the accelerator.

Jungkook shifted in his seat, stifling a whimper as he tried to adjust to the discomfort. His vision was beginning to blur, the loss of blood taking a toll on his body. He decided to conserve his energy instead of pushing himself to speak. Outside, the city whizzed by in a blur, the clock showing eleven minutes past midnight. The road was eerily isolated, with only a handful of cars scattered around.

In the rearview mirror, he spotted Arin's car, flanked by the rest of the Titans' vehicles, shadows lurking ominously behind them. He began counting the trees as they flew by, trying to distract himself. "One... two... three..." Suddenly, the speed of the car intensified, making the canopies flash by like green blurs.

"Noona, slow down!" Jungkook's eyes widened in alarm as he glanced at the speedometer, feeling panic rise within him.

Sri ignored his plea, her focus sharp as she pushed the accelerator down further. The road was a canvas for her anger, each curve and turn a release of the turmoil roiling inside her. Taehyung's words echoed in her mind, fueling her desperation. 

"You are nothing but a crazy, psychotic serial killer."

She was well-trained in driving and adept at car chases, maneuvering through traffic like a predator on the hunt. But this time, she was driven by the urgency of her brother's need for immediate treatment.

Jungkook, on the other hand, was praying to stay conscious, his heart racing as the car hurtled forward. He'd driven recklessly in the past, adrenaline coursing through his veins, but now, as a passenger, it felt like a nightmare unfolding. It's fine as long as you're in control, he thought, but he quickly realized how terrifying it could be when he wasn't behind the wheel. Taehyung would likely have fainted in his place.

As they approached the check post, Sri's determination hardened. She had no intention of slowing down or cooperating with anyone. She barreled through, not caring if she broke down the barricades. Finally, they reached home, the journey cut down from sixty minutes to a mere twenty, the thrill of speed matched only by the urgency of the situation.

............

Taehyung stepped into his prison, a castle-like mansion that felt more suffocating than he could have ever imagined. He was grateful to be surrounded by at least some normal people back at the party, a stark contrast to the chaos of criminals that usually filled his days. But the memory of the murders still clung to him, shaking him to the core. In this place, his 90m² apartment felt like a sprawling sanctuary, the walls echoing with freedom rather than confinement.

His love for S had died the moment she raised a gun at that kid—or so he thought. Yet love had a way of defying logic. It ebbed and flowed at its own whim, even the mightiest among them bowing their heads to its will. While hatred could sometimes overpower love, the latter was stubborn, refusing to be entirely banished from one's heart.

A sharp gasp pulled Taehyung from his turbulent thoughts. He turned to see Namjoon, the mafia doctor, stitching the underboss's wound on the couch. His heart ached at the sight. Taehyung hated seeing anyone in pain, especially someone as strong and resilient as Jungkook. He noticed Namjoon's rough handling; it wasn't malicious, but it could be gentler. Taehyung had more experience in treating wounds and knew how to alleviate the discomfort.

"You should use a 3-0 needle," he suggested softly, hoping to guide rather than criticize.

"Don't interfere in my work! I know what I'm doing!" Namjoon snapped, hurt pride evident in his voice. He had treated Titans for a long time; an outsider like Taehyung couldn't lecture him on proper procedures. The truth was, stitching without anesthesia was painful, and Jungkook was stubbornly refusing any painkillers, not wanting to deal with its side effects.

Jungkook hated feeling vulnerable. He had already burdened his sister, Jimin, and Arin enough; he was the underboss, after all. It gnawed at him that while S fought with ferocity, he found himself asking for help like a coward. How can I keep my position in this state?

"I'm just suggesting. You're hurting the patient," Taehyung tried to reason, his concern palpable.

"Are you trying to show off?!" Namjoon retorted, rising in anger, his face flushed.

"I didn't mean to—"

"Namjoon?" Sri's voice cut through the tension like a knife. "I need you to come with me."

"Sri, are you saying me to...?" Namjoon's disappointment was evident.

"I want you to treat my wounds. Let Taehyung handle Jungkook. Besides, I have something important to tell you," she said, her tone brokering no argument.

Sri had overheard their exchange. Despite her animosity towards Taehyung, she had to admit that his skills were exceptional. She couldn't bear to see her brother in pain. At the same time, she wanted to honor Namjoon, who had been a loyal ally. Borrowing him for this task was a compromise.

"Okay." Namjoon's disappointment faded as a sense of pride replaced it. He appreciated that Sri was trusting him with important work. Ignoring Taehyung's presence, he walked away, but not without a lingering glance that carried a hint of irritation.

Sri's eyes darkened as they met Taehyung's. The air crackled with tension, an unspoken battle raging between them, each unwilling to back down.

"A patient is dying here. Mind providing some treatment?" Jungkook interjected sarcastically, trying to ease the atmosphere. He sensed the friction between the two but chose to deflect the tension with humor. Sri turned on her heel, following Namjoon without a word.

With the focus back on Jungkook, Taehyung poured his energy into treating the wound. Jungkook winced but admitted that it hurt less under Taehyung's gentle touch. The older man worked with a tenderness that Namjoon had lacked, his heart aching for the younger's pain.

"What is it, boss?" Namjoon asked, tending to the wounds on Sri's hands. The cuts and bruises were minor, but her face told another story.

"Take the files from Viper and destroy them. It was too close." She exhaled, exhaustion weighing heavily on her shoulders. "I can only trust you with this. Make sure it's completely gone."

"I get it. By the way, you were great today! Congratulations on your victory." Namjoon applied antiseptic lotion to her cuts, but Sri only hummed in response, her mind elsewhere.

"You don't seem too pleased about this. That's unlike you," he noted, his brow furrowing in concern.

"You were nothing but a crazy, psychotic, serial killer."

Sri clenched her eyes shut, desperately trying to block out Taehyung's voice that echoed in her mind like a haunting refrain. Her insides twisted violently, a storm of conflicting emotions raging within her. Taehyung's dark orbs bore into her soul, reflecting her own anguish back at her. In his eyes, she saw a pitiful version of herself—weak, craven, and irrevocably lost.

"You are a monster without a heart."

The words sliced through her, igniting a deep resentment for her actions, even as a part of her clung to the justification behind them. She wanted to scream, to unleash the whirlwind of emotions pent up inside her. She had done what needed to be done—selfish people deserved to die. They had stood by, watching her suffer, while she begged for help. They had seen her drowning in despair, yet they had acted as if she were invisible, turning their backs on her plight. Each abandonment had ripped her heart from her chest, transforming the once-vulnerable girl into the merciless monster she had become.

Memories assaulted her mind like waves crashing against a shore. The faces of those who had wronged her blurred together, their laughter morphing into a cacophony of derision. Sri's breathing quickened, a panic rising within her. She folded and unfolded her fingers, grasping at the fraying edges of her composure, but it was futile. The facade was cracking, the mask of indifference she wore slipping away.

"Sri, are you hurting?" Namjoon's voice broke through the tumult, concern threading through his tone as he observed her growing distress.

"I am tired. I want to sleep." She brushed off his questions, her voice flat, and made her way toward her room, each step heavy with the weight of her turmoil.

Sri loathed humanity; each kill provided her with a twisted sense of satisfaction. The sight of crimson never failed to bring a cruel smile to her lips. And the way her victims begged for mercy, pleading for their lives—it filled her with a dark glee. She reveled in making them feel the despair that had once engulfed her. They had treated her like an insect, and now she was the one wielding the can of doom. S had earned her reputation as the most ruthless gangster in the underworld, a title that brought with it fear and respect.

But what they didn't know was her origin story, the shadows of her past that clung to her like a shroud. She hadn't been born into this world of violence and bloodshed; she had forged her path through sheer determination and a desperate need for survival. She had taught herself to be independent, to embrace the darkness, for she had learned that in the end, everyone would eventually abandon her. Each betrayal had been a lesson, carving her heart into a fortress—cold, unyielding, and impenetrable.

As she shut the door behind her, the weight of her choices pressed heavily on her chest. She was a monster now, but deep down, the remnants of the girl she once was lingered, flickering like a dying candle in the suffocating darkness.

...............

Jungkook sat on the terrace, his gaze lost among the stars twinkling like distant dreams. The night sky was vast and beautiful, yet his mind was a tempest of accusations. He felt weak, vulnerable, haunted by the memory of his failure to protect his sister. Unlike Sri, who had become a force of nature, he felt like a child still hiding behind her strength. No matter how hard he tried, he was still burdened by the guilt of not being able to shield her from the darkness that had once consumed their lives.

He remembered the girl she used to be—the one who cried herself to sleep every night, the one who clung to him during thunderous nights. That girl had transformed into a relentless warrior, a tempest that left destruction in her wake. Part of him was proud of her strength, of the way she had risen from the ashes of her past. But another part of him mourned the loss of the innocent sister he once knew, the one who had turned to him for comfort and safety.

Jungkook vowed to punish anyone who dared to hurt her, a resolve that burned fiercely within him. He was determined to become the strongest shield for her, a barrier that no one could penetrate. But that meant he needed to grow, to train, to evolve into something far greater than he was now.

A shadow fell over him, breaking him from his thoughts. He recognized the familiar silhouette instantly. "Why are you up so late?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jimin settled beside him like a starfish, stretching out on the cool terrace floor. "I overslept during the day," he replied with a cheeky smile, patting the space beside him. "What are you doing out here all alone?"

Jungkook shifted onto his side, facing Jimin, and let out a heavy sigh. "I feel unworthy. I'm no match for my sister. I always disappoint her."

Jimin's  hated seeing the younger man spiral into self-doubt, blaming himself for things he couldn't control. "Jungkook, I know it's hard for you," he said gently, "but you were obligated to protect her. You're the best member of the Titans after S. She wouldn't have chosen you as her underboss if she didn't see something special in you. She doesn't favor you just because you're her brother."

"That's the very reason that haunts me," Jungkook admitted, his voice trembling with emotion. "She had hopes from me, and I let her down. I couldn't even protect myself."

"You were alone against ten fucking men," Jimin reminded him, his voice firm yet compassionate. "You managed to take down seven of them before Ain arrived! That's unimaginable, Jungkook! I even doubt S could have done that alone. You did what you had to do to survive. You protected yourself the best way anyone could at that moment."

Jungkook clenched his jaw, chewing on the hoop between his teeth, nodding but not quite believing it. The gnawing dissatisfaction still lingered in his chest. "I know what I have to do," he said suddenly, sitting up with determination etched across his face.

Jimin followed suit, wide-eyed. "Don't tell me you're going to—"

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New cover.