The air in the room was heavy, thick with the metallic tang of fear. The dim, flickering bulb overhead cast uneven shadows across the cracked concrete walls. It felt as if the world had been reduced to this suffocating space, where hope had no place and time moved slower than death.

Yoongi sat trembling, his wrists bound tightly behind him, the coarse rope biting into his skin. Hoseok was beside him, his breathing shallow but steady, the faint sound a fragile comfort in the overwhelming silence. They were both seated on the cold floor, their knees pulled to their chests, the harsh texture of the concrete digging into their flesh. Somewhere outside the bolted door, muffled voices echoed, sinister and detached, like a distant storm brewing.

"I'm scared," Yoongi whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his words. His lips were dry, his throat raw from the scream that had ripped out of him when they were taken. He glanced at Hoseok, hoping for reassurance, but found only his friend's grim determination.

"Don't be," Hoseok said softly, though the quiver in his voice betrayed him. He tried to smile, but it faltered, his usually bright expression dulled by the reality of their situation. "We'll get out of this. My dad... he'll come for us."

Yoongi didn't reply. He wanted to believe Hoseok, wanted to cling to the hope in his voice, but the crushing weight of dread was too much. He looked down at his scraped knees, the faint sting grounding him in the moment. A part of him wanted to scream again, to beg for mercy, but he knew it wouldn't matter. The men who had dragged them here weren't the type to listen.

The door creaked open suddenly, and Yoongi flinched. Light spilled into the room, blinding after hours of darkness. The figure that stepped in was tall, imposing, and familiar. Too familiar. Yoongi's breath caught in his throat as his father's cold eyes landed on him.

"Ah, my son," his father said, his voice calm and measured, but Yoongi knew better. There was no warmth in that tone. No love. Only calculation. He stepped closer, his polished shoes clicking against the floor with unnerving precision. Behind him, two armed men flanked the doorway, their faces blank masks.

"Please, let us go!" Hoseok's voice broke the silence, a desperate plea that made Yoongi's chest tighten. "Whatever you want, my dad will give it to you. Just-just don't hurt us."

Yoongi's father chuckled, a low, humorless sound that echoed in the small room. "Oh, Hoseok," he said, his tone dripping with mockery. "You have such faith in your father. It's almost endearing."

Hoseok shifted, his hands balled into fists despite the ropes. "He'll stop you. He'll expose everything."

For a brief moment, Yoongi thought he saw something flicker in his father's eyes. Amusement, maybe, or annoyance. But it was gone too quickly to name.

"Expose me?" his father repeated, stepping closer. "Do you think I brought you here to negotiate? No. I brought you here to make a statement."

Yoongi's stomach churned as his father turned to him, his gaze sharp enough to cut. "Yoongi, look at me."

He didn't want to. He wanted to disappear, to sink into the floor and never come back. But the authority in his father's voice left no room for disobedience. Slowly, he raised his head, tears already spilling down his cheeks.

"This is your fault, you know," his father said, crouching down so their faces were level. His voice was soft, almost gentle, but the words were a knife to Yoongi's heart. "If you'd just stayed loyal, none of this would've been necessary."

"I-I didn't..." Yoongi stammered, his voice breaking. He didn't even know what his father was accusing him of anymore. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the weight of those eyes, the suffocating presence of a man who had never once truly seen him as a son.

Hoseok's voice cut through the tension. "Leave him alone, you monster!"

The slap came out of nowhere, sharp and deafening in the small room. Hoseok's head snapped to the side, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Yoongi flinched, his body shaking with the urge to do something, anything, but his limbs were frozen.

"Enough," his father said, standing again. He adjusted his suit jacket, the picture of composure. "I didn't come here to waste time."

Yoongi's chest tightened as his father reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a sleek silver gun. The room seemed to tilt, the edges of his vision blurring as panic set in.

"No," Yoongi whispered, the word barely audible. "No, please..."

"Watch closely, Yoongi," his father said, his voice cold and final. "This is what happens to people who try to defy me."

Everything after that happened too fast. The sound of the gunshot was deafening, a sharp crack that shattered the air. Hoseok's body jerked, and then he slumped to the ground, his eyes wide and unseeing. Blood pooled beneath him, a stark red against the dull gray floor.

Yoongi couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. His ears were ringing, his vision swimming. The image of Hoseok's lifeless body burned into his mind, a permanent scar.

"Clean this up," his father said to the men at the door, his tone dismissive. Then he turned to Yoongi, his expression unreadable. "I hope you understand now."

Yoongi didn't reply. He couldn't. The world was a blur of sound and color, everything muted except the unbearable pain in his chest. Hoseok's face was the only thing he could see, the light in his eyes extinguished forever.

As his father left the room, Yoongi's vision blurred with tears. The sound of footsteps faded into the distance, but the silence that followed was even louder.

"Yoongi..." Hoseok's voice echoed faintly in his mind, a memory from before, when things were simpler. When they were just two kids dreaming of the future.

But that future was gone now. And Yoongi wasn't sure he would ever escape this moment.

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