Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Jimin remembers that fateful night. It was raining. White lightning striking the ground then the terrifying thunder coming seconds after. Like it was timed, and the two dark red lines stared at him like a wilted flower refusing to let go of the sun.

and his jasmine scent burned, his gland ached as tears quietly flowed from his eyes. Jimin wiped them away as if it burned his skin to have them there.

His jasmine scent burned, sharp and acrid in his nose, his gland throbbing with a hollow ache that echoed through his chest. Tears slipped quietly from his eyes, hot and unbidden, tracing paths down his flushed cheeks. Jimin wiped them away with trembling fingers, but more came, silent and relentless, as if his body refused to let him pretend  everything was fine anymore, because it wasn’t. And he was done putting up with the act.

he sat on the floor, his feet tucked under his butt like a child seeking comfort, knowing he would never get it. His scent tormenting him, He wouldn’t, couldn’t,raise his pup in this world of blood and shadows. Loyalty be damned. The word tasted like ash on his tongue.

God, how he had yearned for this once. For them. In the quiet moments between stolen kisses and shared ruts, Jimin had let himself dream. He and Jungkook, married, mated, building a life with pups who would know safety instead of fear. He had pictured Jungkook as an appa so vividly it hurt. Those strong arms cradling a tiny body, the rare softness in his eyes when he thought no one was watching. Jimin had seen those longing gazes Jungkook gave to innocent pups during missions, the way his alpha’s fingers would twitch, as if aching to protect rather than destroy. He had watched Jungkook spare those children even as he ended their parents’ lives with merciless precision.

Jimin laughed at the thought. How he was so naive.

He wanted it, Jimin thought, a fresh wave of sorrow crashing over him. He wanted a family. But not enough to choose us. Jimins omega cried.

They had never been serious. Not really. Not in the way Jimin’s foolish, hopeful heart had craved. Simple sex that blurred into something deeper during heats and ruts. Secret dates under the cover of night. Stolen kisses that tasted like danger and longing.

Jungkook had always made it clear to everyone around him. the mafia came first. Always. Blood oaths he made to his people, and power and endless violence, those were his true mates. Jimin was comfort for Jungkook, and he knew it, but he held on to that comfort so tightly, a release, a fleeting warmth in a life carved from ice and steel.

And that was what shattered him most. He couldn’t condemn his pup to this. Not to a childhood where bedtime stories were replaced by the distant crack of gunfire. Not to a home where “family” meant unbreakable loyalty to a legacy of death. Jungkook had been raised in it, molded by it at the early age of 7. And  look at what it had made him. A man capable of tenderness in the dark, yes, but one who could pull the trigger without hesitation the next morning. Jimin’s pup would never know the weight of a gun in their small hands. They would never learn that mercy was a luxury, or that love could be measured in how fast you could stand up after being knocked to the ground unconscious

No, that was Jimin life that he chose for himself.

His child would grow up with sunlight and laughter, with safety and choices. Even if it meant ripping Jimin’s own heart out in the process. Even if every step away from this place felt like dying.

Jimin sighed, the sound shaky and broken, as he pushed himself to his feet. His legs trembled beneath him, but he steadied himself against the marble counter. He looked at himself in the mirror, he was a mess. But  this was his decision. For his pup. He would stand by it, no matter how the bond screamed at him to stay.

He moved to the large dark bedroom.

Jimin knew the mansion like the back of his hand, where none of the guards lingered with lapsed guns, and all of the secret doors. Jimin cried silently as he packed his one bag. Tears fell freely now as he packed his single bag with only the essentials, each item a quiet betrayal. Jungkook had left after knotting him, muttering something about business, taking most of the security with him. But a few armed men still prowled the halls. Jimin moved like a ghost, heart fracturing with every silent footfall.

And Jimin whimpered a silent “I love you” into the empty room. Before leaving, the last time he would stand in that spot.

———

5 YEARS LATER

———

Screams of pure terror echoed through the damp, concrete basement like a broken symphony of death. Blood splattered across the grimy floor in thick, wet arcs, pooling beneath the flickering fluorescent light that buzzed overhead.  The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood, mingled with the acrid bite of fear.

Jungkook stood motionless in the center of it all, a king of shadows and carnage. He commanded respect, no , he demanded it with every breath. The most feared mafia boss in the country, the Black Diamond, heir to an empire built on bones, bullets, and sacrifice from the people before him. Nobody on the glittering surface suspected a thing. To the world, Jeon Jungkook was a young, devastatingly handsome entrepreneur, face sculpted by the moon goddess herself, sharp jawline, lips pierced with a silver ring that glinted like a promise of pain. 

He wore a black silk dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal the intricate, colorful tattoos snaking down his right arm A few buttons undone at the collar exposed the hard planes of his toned chest, rising and falling with controlled fury. His dark hair was slicked back, though one rebellious strand fell across his forehead, framing eyes that could shift from seductive void to murderous eclipse in seconds.

But that was the type of charm he had.

He smirked down at the kneeling, blindfolded alpha, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. It never did, not anymore.

His men had dragged the bastard in from outside one of Jungkook’s luxury bars. The fool still wore the rival logo stitched into his collar like a brand. No direct business between their syndicates, until now. Money vanishing from Jungkook’s accounts. Loyal men turning up with throats slit in their own safehouses. Random omegas and pups found dead in alleys, branded with his mafia’s mark. Someone was orchestrating terror from the inside, feeding enemies information, and it had been eating at his empire for a month. Jungkook was done playing.

“Choi,” Jungkook muttered, voice low and velvet smooth, laced with venom. “You really don’t want to continue this game.”

“Please, Jeon… that’s all I know!” the alpha sobbed, blood bubbling from his split lips. His face was a ruined mess, courtesy of Yoongi’s precise work.

Jungkook’s frown deepened. Lies. He could smell them. “Yoongi.”

And Yoongi smiled. Grabbing pliers but the Choi alpha started pleading“Stop! Please, fuck! stop! I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything!” Choi shrieked, thrashing against his bonds.And Yoongi paused, glancing at Jungkook. The boss gave a single nod at him before smirking. “Let him talk” Jungkook said, sitting down in the wooden seat that was placed infront of the kneeled alpha. “Please.. just listen” he weakly said, and Jungkook narrowed his eyes “I don’t have all fucking day. And if you waste my time again…” He let the threat hang, heavy as the gun at his hip.

 and the alpha kneeled nodded. Blood seeping out his mouth and Jungkook grimaced.

“I-I don’t know much, okay? Just… just scraps my boss threw at me. There’s been leaks your shipments, your routes. Not just money missing… they’re hitting your bases from within. It’s not one man, but one man is feeding information”

Jungkook’s men stood like statues by the basement door, armed and silent. Yoongi crossed his arms, watching. The only sounds were Choi’s ragged breathing and the distant drip of water from a leaking pipe.

Choi swallowed hard, voice cracking.

 “They… they mentioned a name. Park. Said to find this Park guy. He’s important I assume, real Important. My boss thinks if we get to him first, we can get to you” and it was like the alpha set off a bomb with his words.

“Stop”

Jungkook’s voice cut through the air like a blade. His scent, usually dark amber, gun oil, and dominance , flared bitterly, twisting into something darker, charred wood, rotting nightshade, the suffocating weight of a storm about to break. 

It filled the basement like poison gas, making even his own men shift uncomfortably. Choi froze instantly.

Everything stopped.

Jungkook stared straight ahead, jaw locked so tight it ached. That name. Park. He had buried it so deep in the recesses of his mind that excavating it felt like clawing open an old grave. Five years of whiskey, violence, and hollow rutting to forget. And now some pathetic rat had dug it up. Putting it in the forefront of Jungkook’s mind.

“That omega you’re talking about,” Jungkook said, voice dropping to a dangerous, guttural timbre. His eyes turned black, pupils swallowing the irises whole. “What else about him?”

Choi jogged his fractured memory, wheezing. “Y-yeah… Park. Last name Park. My boss didn’t give details, but he’s important to you, right? Said the omega’s been hiding, They want him bad.”

There were so many parks in Korea. And what are the chances Jimin stayed in Korea after the stunt he pulled. It  was a slim chance that was his omega. 

“Continue” Jungkook said, voice daunting.

“I don’t know man, my boss just told me to find him” that was all the confirmation he needed, and he yanked the black gun out of his holster. And Choi could hear it, even with the blindfolds on. 

A muscle ticked in his jaw. He had told himself a thousand times,  if he ever found Park Jimin again, he’d put a bullet between those pretty eyes himself. No hesitation. No weakness. He’d never searched, too much of a coward to face the ghost of what they’d almost been. But now? Now the omega had made it personal.

His omega had something to do with this, his men dying, money mysteriously going missing, and random omegas and pups being found dead with stamp of Jungkook’s mafia on their skin. Terrorizing him. Nobody ever dared to mess with them, it was news that if you fucked with the black diamond you were as good as dead. But obviously park jimin didn’t give one fuck about that.

‘And he should have known better’, Jungkook thought.

Jungkook’s eyes flickered red for a split second, alpha rage bleeding through, then settled back into abyssal black. Yoongi’s eyes widened beside him, the Alpha knew Jimin well. They’d been close once. Jimin had been Jungkook’s shadow on every mission, every dinner, every dark decision. Loyal. Deadly. 

His.

Until he wasn’t.

Jungkook’s hand moved like lightning. He yanked the black pistol from his holster. The metallic click of the slide echoed ominously. Choi heard it even through the blindfold and started pleading louder, voice hoarse and broken.

“PLEASE! DON’T DO THIS! I HAVE A FAMILY! KIDS, A MAT ! PLEASE, JEON, I SWEAR I TOLD YOU EVERYTHI-”

Boom

The gunshot was deafening in the enclosed space. A Thundous roar.

But Jungkook didn’t flinch, he never did.

Choi’s body jerked violently, then slumped forward, a fresh pool of blood spreading from the neat hole in his forehead. The scent of cordite mixed with death And the alphas rotten coffee smell made something horrible in Jungkooks nose.

He didn’t even blink. He’d done this thousands of times. It was power. It was control. It was the only thing that still made him feel alive in this rotting world. And nobody, not even the omega who had once made him dream of something softer would take it from him.

Yoongi stood rigid in the corner. “Jimin-”

“Don’t say his fucking name,” Jungkook snarled, shooting him a look so deadly the words died in Yoongi’s throat.

Jungkook holstered the gun with a sharp motion and stood, silk shirt now speckled with faint crimson. His scent still churned, bitter and unstable, betraying the storm raging beneath his calm exterior. Inside, his thoughts were a chaotic inferno

“Call everyone,” Jungkook ordered, voice flat but edged with lethal desperation.

 “Tell them to meet me in one hour at the corporation headquarters. No excuses.”

Yoongi nodded slowly, eyes lingering with old memories, before complying.

Jungkook turned and strode out of the bloody basement, four armed guards falling in silently behind him. His steps were measured, but his pulse thundered with a single, consuming need.

Park jimin was as good as dead.

It was only a matter of time before that omega’s limp, broken body lay at his feet, beautiful even in death, just like the night he’d left. And this time, Jungkook wouldn’t let him slip away.

———

PRESENT

———

Rebuilding his new life was hard. He moved far away, countries away to escape. And it wasn’t for nothing, a beautiful, 6 pound newborn came out of his womb and Jimin cried, that day, he swore nothing could take it away from him. His beautiful baby boy, Minjun.

Jimin had chosen it carefully, it felt like that was the only thing he had control over after months on the run, paying cash so he couldn’t be tracked with a card, he was under a carefully constructed alias, working odd jobs that let him stay home with his pup while keeping them both invisible. No pack. No mafia. No alpha. Just him and Minjun against the world. The one thing he had a legitimate choice over.

Tonight, the small two bedroom apartment was dimly lit by a single dinosaur night light plugged into the wall, casting soft green shadows across the walls covered in colorful stickers of roaring T-Rexes and smiling stegosauruses. The twin bed in Minjun’s room was a nest of soft blankets and plush toys, the kind of safe little haven Jimin had fought tooth and nail to build.

“Eommaaaa, I don’t wanna sleep yet,” Minjun whined, his little voice full of that stubborn five year old energy as he squirmed in Jimin’s arms. 

He was all limbs tonight, kicking his small feet under the covers and clutching his favorite stuffed velociraptor to his chest. “Just one more story! The one with the big dragon!”

Jimin sighed, though a fond smile tugged at his lips despite the exhaustion weighing on his shoulders. He tightened his hold, cradling his pup against his chest in the narrow bed, legs tucked up so he could rock them both gently

“Park Minjun,” he said in that bossy tone he’d perfected over the years, he smirked at the thought.

firm but wrapped in warmth. “It’s already past bedtime, baby. You have daycare tomorrow, and Eomma has work. No more stories. Close those eyes.”

Minjun looked up at him with those big, round boba eyes wide and sparkling, framed by the same long lashes that once made Jimin’s heart stutter. The mole just beneath his full lips, the slope of his little nose every feature was a perfect mirror of the alpha he tried so hard not to think about. 

Jimin’s breath caught, as it always did. Looking at Minjun was like staring into a living memory. Those eyes that crinkled when he laughed just like-

No. 

Jimin pushed the thought down hard, burying it beneath layers of practiced denial. That life was gone. the terrifying thunder of a world built on violence. He had chosen this instead. A quiet apartment where the only sounds at night were distant traffic and his pup’s soft breathing. A simple job at a small café during Minjun’s daycare hours. Grocery runs where no one knew his real name. Nights spent humming lullabies instead of dodging bullets. He was a full time mom now, Eomma first, always, and that was enough.

It had to be.

But some nights, like tonight, the sadness crept in anyway. A hollow ache bloomed in his chest, his jasmine scent turning faintly bittersweet as he held his son closer. Minjun was his everything: the reason he’d run, the reason he still looked over his shoulder every time they left the building. Yet raising him alone, hiding in plain sight, carrying the weight of secrets no child should ever touch…

It was lonely in ways Jimin hadn’t anticipated.

“Eomma’s being mean,” Minjun pouted, poking Jimin’s cheek with a small finger, his voice turning cute and bratty. He wriggled closer, pressing his face into Jimin’s neck like he knew exactly how to win. “Eommaaa, please? Five more minutes? I’m not even tired, see!”

The pup widened his eyes as if they would prove anything, but Jimin could see the sleepiness in them.

Jimin let out a soft laugh, the sound tired but genuine, and ruffled the boy’s dark hair. “Mean? Yah, who taught you that you brat! You’re the one who stayed up playing with your dinosaurs until your eyes were closing on their own. If you go to sleep right now like a good pup, Eomma will take you for ice cream tomorrow after daycare. Strawberry with extra sprinkles. Deal?”

Minjun’s eyes lit up instantly, the bribe working like magic. “Really? With the rainbow sprinkles? And chocolate sauce?”

“Yes, baby. With everything,” Jimin promised, brushing a thumb over the mole under his pup’s lip. “But only if you close your eyes now. No more talking.”

The boy grinned, all bright and triumphant, before snuggling deeper into Jimin’s neck. He inhaled deeply, little nose twitching as he breathed in the comforting jasmine scent that had always meant safety. “Okay, Eomma. Love you.”

Jimin’s heart swelled, the sadness easing just a fraction. He nuzzled back, scenting Minjun thoroughly, rubbing his cheek and gland against the pup’s soft black hair and temple, letting his warm, protective jasmine bloom around them both like a shield. “Love you more, my little dragon,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to Minjun’s forehead, then another to his chubby cheek, and one more to the tip of his nose. “Sleep well. Eomma’s right here.”

Minjun sighed contentedly, his small body finally relaxing as his breathing evened out. His tiny hand fisted in Jimin’s shirt, holding on even in sleep. Jimin stayed there a while longer, rocking slowly in the dinosaur lit room, listening to the quiet hum of their hidden little life. Outside, the city continued its distant roar, but in here, it was just them. Safe. For now.

He closed his eyes, letting the moment settle, even as the past tried to whisper through the cracks.

He stirred in his sleep,scent something was wrong,

 A dark lingering scent slipped through the cracks of his dream, dark, oppressive, like poison almost. It lingered in the air, heavy and invasive, curling around his senses like smoke from a long buried fire. Jimin’s eyes flew open, heart lurching violently. Sleep shattered in an instant, replaced by ice cold clarity.

His heart slammed against his ribs. ‘Wrong. Everything was wrong’. He chanted in his brain.

Jimins omega roared, his omega knew something was wrong before he did, she always did. Before tragedy even struck she was always there to warn him minutes before.

He bolted upright, breath shallow and ragged. His hand dove under the pillow, fingers wrapping around the familiar hilt of the knife he kept hidden there, balanced steel that had never left his side, even in this quiet life. Knives had always been his weapon of choice, silent extensions of the life he left behind far more reliable than any gun in the dark fucked up world he once loved

Pup

Pup

Pup

Get to pup.

The warning pounded through his veins

Jimin’s bare feet hit the floor without a sound. He moved like a shadow down the narrow hallway, The apartment felt too still, too empty, the distant hum of city traffic outside only amplifying the dread coiling in his gut.

“Minjun-ah!” he called, voice cracking with rising panic as he pushed open the door to his pup’s room.

No answer. No bratty “what Eomma!” Of his innocent pups voice called back.

The small bed was a tangle of blankets, the stuffed velociraptor discarded on the floor like a fallen sentinel. The windowalways locked tight in their hidden little world was cracked open, night air whispering in with that same haunting, dark scent.

Blood drained from Jimin’s face, leaving him ashen and trembling. His heart seized, a brutal stop that stole the air from his lungs.

“No… no, no, no-” The words tumbled out in a desperate mantra, hot tears spilling down his porcelain cheeks. He stumbled into the room, knife still gripped white-knuckled in one hand. “Minjun-ah, please… stop joking, baby. It’s Eomma. 

You have daycare tomorrow baby, strawberry ice cream with rainbow sprinkles, remember? Come on, pup..’

He spoke to the hollow space as if Minjun could hear him, as if this were just another game of hide and seek that had spiraled too far. But the silence swallowed his words whole. The room felt violated, stripped of the warmth and laughter that had filled it only hours ago. And the scent was stronger here.

He could tell whoever did it was already gone.

But couldn’t be. Not here. Not in this anonymous apartment building with its creaky elevators and nosy but distant neighbors, where Jimin had worked so hard to stay invisible, giving birth to Minjun alone and at home so medical records couldn’t be pulled up, using fake names, living as nothing more than a full time Eomma scraping by on café shifts while Minjun was at daycare.

 A life of quiet routines and watching cartoons, far from the blood and thunder he had fled.

A raw, guttural scream tore from Jimin’s throat louder and more broken than he ever imagined possible. It echoed off the walls, but he barely registered it. All he heard was the agonized cries of his omega echoing inside his skull, a storm of despair and fury.

Pup.

Pup is scared.

Pup is in pain.

Pup needs you.

Tears streamed freely as he clutched the doorframe, knees buckling under the weight of it all. Then anger ignited, fierce and blinding, burning away the initial shock. His jasmine scent wilted sharply, petals curling into something acrid and thorny, like flowers trampled under heavy boots.

He crossed to the open window on unsteady legs, the cool breeze mocking him. “I’ll find you, baby,” he whispered through sobs, voice fracturing with guilt and love so deep it hurt. “This is Eomma’s fault… I’m so sorry. I’ll make it right.”

Only one shadow from his past had the reach to tear his world apart like this. After five long years? Why now? He was nothing to them anymore, just a forgotten omega who had run. Why steal his sweet, innocent pup instead of ending him quietly? It made no sense in the tangled web of old betrayals and secrets.

But sense didn’t matter. Only Minjun did.

As Jimin reached to slam the window shut, his tear blurred eyes caught it, a slip of paper fluttering on the sill, teased by the wind like a taunting whisper from the dark. His breath hitched. He stepped closer, heart hammering.

“No… no, no, no-”

His fingers stretched toward it.

BOOM.

The deafening crash came from behind wood splintering violently as the front door burst inward.

 Jimin flinched hard, spinning around with the knife raised in a deadly arc. His eyes widened in shock, pupils blown wide with terror and lethal resolve. A new dark scent flooded the apartment now, thick and suffocating, wrapping around him like invisible chains dragging him back to a life he thought he’d escaped.

“I’ll fucking kill you,” Jimin snarled, his voice dropping into something dangerously low and shadowed, every omega instinct sharpening to a razor’s edge.

He snatched the crumpled paper from the sill, shoving it deep into his back pocket unread, for later, when blood had been spilled. Gripping the knife tighter, he crouched low, muscles coiled like a predator in the dim dinosaur glow.

Whoever had dared take his pup had returned from the shadows.

And they weren’t leaving this apartment alive.

The quiet murmurs of people speaking made its way to Jimin’s ears, but he wasn’t close enough to make out what they were saying , and he didn’t care quite frankly.His omega still screamed inside him, a relentless chant of pup, pup, pup, but the immediate threat demanded every ounce of his focus. Years of hiding hadn’t dulled his edge. Even after fleeing the syndicate, Jimin had trained in secret,  midnight sessions in empty parks, session at the gun range while Minjun napped, honing his body and instincts like a blade that refused to rust. He moved with lethal grace, silent and precise, a dancer turned killer who favored knives because they whispered death instead of roaring it. He could slit a throat before his enemy drew breath. Five years of motherhood hadn’t erased the omega who once ran missions at Jeon Jungkook’s side.

“There’s nobody here, man. We’re wasting our fucking time,” one growled.

Crack.

Jimin’s bare foot came down on a shard of glass from the broken vase the intruders had smashed during their violent entry. Sharp pain lanced through his heel, blood welling hot and immediate, dripping onto the white carpet in dark blooms. Shit. He bit back a hiss, eyes squeezing shut for a fraction of a second as he pressed himself tighter behind the hallway wall, hoping the shadows would swallow him just a little longer.

But their heads snapped toward his hiding spot. 

Footsteps advanced.

Jimin exhaled slowly. Showtime.

He waited until they were close enough to smell their alpha aggression, sweat, leather, and cheap cologne, then exploded into motion. His arm whipped out like a striking viper, the hidden knife slicing clean across the first masked man’s forearm.

Fabric and skin parted effortlessly, blood spraying in a hot arc that splattered across Jimin’s white carpet and the intruder’s sleeve.

“Fuck!” the man screamed, stumbling back and clutching his arm. “The bitch is here! He cut me!”

Jimin didn’t have enough time to grimace at the blood spilled on his new carpet. The men were already moving.

The second masked alpha raised his gun, barrel swinging toward Jimin with deadly intent.

 Jimin was moving, ducking low and slamming his shoulder into the wounded man’s gut, driving him backward into his partner. They crashed into the wall with a thud that rattled cheap picture frames. The gun went off,

BANG

a wild shot that punched a hole in the ceiling, sending plaster dust raining down.

“You stupid fuck, watch your aim!” the second man roared at his partner, shoving him aside and lunging for Jimin.

Jimin rolled away, ignoring the fire in his heel and the glass grinding deeper into his skin. He came up slashing, knife catching the second alpha’s thigh. 

The man howled, swinging a meaty fist that connected with Jimin’s ribs in a brutal crack. Pain exploded through Jimin’s side, something gave, a sharp snap that stole his breath, but he didn’t stop. He twisted, driving an elbow into the man’s throat, making him gag and stagger.

“Hold him down, you idiot!” the first one snarled, blood still pouring from his arm as he tried to circle around. “Boss said keep him alive”

Jimin laughed bitterly through gritted teeth, a feral sound. He feinted left, then drove his knee up into the second alpha’s groin. The man doubled over with a choked curse You fucking whore!” and Jimin followed with a vicious slash across his shoulder. Blood flew. The alpha’s gun clattered to the floor as his grip failed, skidding under the couch.

“Gun’s gone! Grab the bastard!” the disarmed one yelled, tackling Jimin to the ground.

They crashed hard onto the carpet. Jimin’s back hit the floor, knocking the wind out of him, but he brought the knife up fast, stabbing into the man’s side. 

Fabric tore. Flesh resisted, then yielded. 

The alpha screamed, punching Jimin square in the face. His lip split, blood flooding his mouth with copper heat. Another fist slammed into his already bruised ribs, grinding against what felt like broken bon. 

Jimin gasped, vision spotting, but he headbutted the man’s nose with a sickening crunch.

“Son of a bitch! He’s slippery as fuck!” the first masked man joined the fray, kicking Jimin’s knife hand.

The blade spun away, embedding in the wall. Now it was fists and fury.

Jimin fought like a cornered wildcat, legs kicking, nails raking across masked faces, elbows and knees finding soft spots. He landed a solid kick to one man’s knee, hearing the pop, but they overwhelmed him with sheer mass. A boot stomped his thigh. A fist cracked against his jaw. Blood trickled from his nose, his lip, the cut on his arm where a stray knife slash had caught him in return. His white shirt tore at the collar, exposing collarbone and old scars from a life he’d buried.

“You’re a real bitch, you know that?” one of them growled, finally pinning Jimin against the wall. The alpha leaned over him, breathing heavy, blood from his own wounds dripping onto Jimin’s chest. His partner planted a heavy boot on Jimin’s sternum, pressing down until fresh agony bloomed through the broken ribs. Jimin couldn’t move, every breath was fire, his body screaming in protest. Physically, it felt impossible to shift even an inch.

“Where the fuck is my pup?” Jimin grunted, voice raw and venomous despite the gun now pointed at his head. Blood smeared his teeth as he bared them in defiance. His hair was a disheveled mess, sticking to his sweat damp forehead, but his eyes burned with lethal promise.

The two masked men exchanged a confused glance behind their coverings.

“Look, we don’t know shit about any child,” the one with the gun said, sounding genuinely baffled. “Orders were just to grab Park Jimin. No mention of a kid.”

Jimin’s brow furrowed, confusion cutting through the pain. They were lying. They had to be. Whoever orchestrated this had taken Minjun too, his sweet boy with the boba eyes and Jungkook’s mole. “Cut the shit,” he spat, blood flecking the floor. “I’ll fucking gut your hearts out if you don’t tell me where my pup is.”

The alpha with his boot on Jimin’s chest scoffed, pressing down harder until Jimin’s vision whited out for a second. “You’re in a position like this and you’re still being bossy? There were no orders against roughing you up a bit. Only rule was bring you back alive, darling.” He smirked behind the mask.

“Suck. My. Dick,” Jimin enunciated slowly, each word dripping with venom despite the crushing weight on his chest. Blood covering his white teeth.

The other masked man burst out laughing, loud and mocking. “You’re a real feisty one, heh. Not surprised you pulled some shit like this. Real shame, though, you’re a pretty one too. So sad your life has to end like this.” He shook his head in mock pity, though his eyes were cold.

Pulled some shit like this? Jimin’s mind reeled through the haze of pain. What the hell were they talking about? All he wanted was his pup. He hadn’t done anything to provoke this, hadn’t reached out, hadn’t threatened the empire. He’d only run to protect the tiny life growing inside him.

He opened his mouth to snarl another demand, but a thick cloth suddenly clamped over his face from behind. Chemical soaked fabric burned his nose and mouth. Jimin thrashed wildly, screaming muffled curses into the rag, legs kicking despite the agony in his ribs. His nails dug into the arm holding him, drawing more blood, but the grip only tightened. And every breath drew more of the substance into his lungs.

“Inhale deeper, you little shit,” one of them grunted. “Night night.”

Jimin’s struggles weakened as the sedative flooded his system. His limbs grew heavy, eyes drooping against his will. But through the blurring vision, he saw it flash as one man’s sleeve rode up during the struggle, a black diamond tattoo on the inner wrist, stark and unmistakable.

A Black Diamond

And one named echoed in his mind as his vision turned black.

Jeon Jungkook.

———

ONE DAY PRIOR

———

Dim lights cast long shadows across the polished mahogany table in the high skyrise building,  where approximately thirty men sat in rigid silence, loyal captains, enforcers, and lieutenants of the Black Diamond syndicate. Most kept their eyes down, breaths shallow, as if even the wrong glance could summon death. But nothing in that room mattered. Not the empire. Not the leaking money. Not the bodies piling up with his mark carved into their skin.

Only one name burned through Jeon Jungkook’s veins like acid.

“Park Jimin,” Jungkook said, his voice a low, velvet growl that sliced through the heavy air. “I want him found. Dragged back alive. By tomorrow.”

A ripple of unease spread through the room. Most faces remained blank, newer recruits who only knew the omega as a ghost story whispered in the ranks. But a handful knew. And the reaction was immediate.

Three sharp gasps cut the silence. Kim Taehyung shot to his feet first, an omega whose bond with Jungkook granted him leaway. His fist slammed down on the table with enough force to rattle glasses, eyes already glistening with furious tears.

“Jungkook, what the fuck!” Taehyung’s voice cracked with raw emotion, trembling but unafraid. Only a select few could speak to the boss like this without immediate execution. “You promised. You swore you wouldn’t search for him. That he was dead to us, to all of us!”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened like a steel trap. His scent, dark amber and cedar, gun oil, and cold smoke twisted violently into something bitter and choking, like scorched earth and rotting blood. It filled the room, pressing down on every man like an invisible hand around the throat.

“That was before I knew he was selling us out” 

Namjoon rose next, the strategist’s voice steady but edged with defiance. “Jungkook, this is bullshit. You know Jimin wouldn’t sell us out. He was loyal your shadow on every mission. This doesn’t make sense.”

Hoseok followed, standing with clenched fists, his usual bright energy replaced by barely contained outrage. “You’re out of your fucking mind if you think dragging him back will fix anything. He left. Let him stay gone. Chasing ghosts is going to tear this syndicate apart more than any leak ever could.”

Jungkook stood slowly, the chair scraping back like a gunshot. The room temperature seemed to drop. His eyes once capable of rare softness were now twin abysses of black fury, flickering with restrained alpha rage. He leaned forward, palms flat on the table, knuckles white. Power radiated off him in waves, the kind that made lesser men piss themselves.

“You have the nerve to question me?” Jungkook’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper that somehow carried more threat than any shout. “I didn’t think he would fake his death. I didn’t think he would run like a coward in the night after I knotted him and left him in my bed. I didn’t think the omega who fought at my side for years would betray everything we built!” His fist came down hard enough to crack the wood.

It was so much pain in his voice, anyone could tell.

“And now he’s the one gutting us from the shadows money vanishing, my men slaughtered, omegas and pups branded with my mark to make me look like a monster. You think I’m going to sit here and let that slide?”

Taehyung’s tears spilled over, tracking down his cheeks. 

He and Jimin had been inseparable once, soulmates in every way but blood. When Jimin first joined the mafia, wide eyed and scared, but deadly with a knife, Taehyung had taken him under his wing. They shared late night talks about escaping the violence one day, stolen laughs during rare downtime, and ironclad loyalty on missions where one watched the other’s back without hesitation. Jimin had been the brother Taehyung never had, the one who understood the weight of being an omega in a world of alphas who saw them as fragile. When Jimin vanished, Taehyung had mourned for months, searching in secret, refusing to believe the rumors of betrayal. It had nearly broken his bond with Yoongi, the guilt and grief carving deep scars that still ached.

“That’s not true,” Namjoon pressed, voice rising despite the suffocating scent rolling off Jungkook. “Jimin loved this pack. He loved you. Whatever’s happening now, it’s not him. You’re letting rage blind you-”

“Enough!” Jungkook roared, the sound echoing like thunder.

 He grabbed the stack of papers in front of him, grainy surveillance stills, financial discrepancies, witness reports, and hurled them across the table. They scattered like dead leaves. Taehyung flinched

Jungkook, blinded by rage spoke “You’re all holding onto a fucking fantasy. That omega abandoned you years ago. He doesn’t give a shit about any of you anymore. If he walked through that door right now, he’d put a knife through your skulls without blinking if it suited him.”

Taehyung shook his head violently, voice breaking into a desperate chant. “No…no, that’s not him. Jimin wouldn’t betray us. He loved us. He was family. We did everything together . He wouldn’t sell us out. He wouldn’t-”

“Wake the fuck up, Taehyung!” Jungkook snarled, stepping around the table with predatory grace. The other men shrank back in their seats, too terrified to speak. One wrong word and they’d be dragged to the basement for days of creative torture.

Jungkook’s anger was a living thing nowseething, desperate, all consuming. The thought of Jimin out there, alive, possibly laughing at his crumbling empire, made his blood boil with a mix of possessive fury and something darker he refused to name. 

I should have hunted him down the night he left. One bullet. Clean. Instead, I let him haunt me. If anyone interrupted him now, he’d skin them alive.

Hoseok tried one last time, voice tight. “Jungkook, please. Think about what this means. Bringing him back won’t heal anything it’ll destroy what’s left. We’re your pack too. Don’t do this.”

Jungkook’s laugh was cold and humorless, lips curling into a smirk that promised pain. “You’re all pathetic. Clinging to memories of an omega who ran the second things got real. I want Park Jimin brought to me alive by tomorrow. Broken if necessary, but breathing. I’ll be the one to end him myself, slowly. So he understands exactly what he threw away.”

He turned toward the door, silk shirt straining over tense shoulders, that single rebellious strand of hair falling across his forehead like a crack in his armor. His scent still poisoned the air, thick with threat.

“Yoongi,” Jungkook muttered without looking back.

The alpha beside him looked up, face pale, thoughts clearly storming behind his eyes, memories of missions with Jimin, of the omega who had once been untouchable. Taehyung shot his mate a look of pure betrayal, heart visibly shattering as fresh tears fell.

“Find Park Jimin,” Jungkook ordered, voice flat but laced with lethal promise. “Bring him to me.”

Yoongi swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Yes… Yes, boss.” He had never seen Yoongi like that.

So..

So helpless…

The rest of the room sat in frozen silence as Jungkook strode out, four guards falling in behind him like shadows. No one dared move until the elevator doors closed. Inside Jungkook’s chest, the storm raged on anger, betrayal, and a gnawing, desperate hunger to see Jimin’s face again, even if it was only to watch the light leave his eyes.

Tomorrow, the omega would be at his feet.

And this time, there would be no escape.

———

PRESENT

———

He drifted in and out of consciousness throughout the journey, each awakening brief and hazy. Fragments of memories clung to him like smoke. The rumble of a motorized vehicle over rough ground. Voices he couldn’t quite make out. The sharp scent of fuel lingering in the air.

Then he blacked out again.

Then came the deafening roar of aircraft engines overhead.

“Hurry! Move, move!”

Men were shouting all around him, their voices urgent and strained. Heavy footsteps thundered past as the world blurred together once more.

And then,

nothing.

Darkness swallowed him whole. Once again.

The next time his eyes fluttered open, the fog in his mind had finally begun to clear. For the first time since the journey began, he could actually see.

He didn’t know where he was, what day it was, or how long he was out for. His omega fighting so desperately to heal himself. He blinked, eyes fluttering open.

It was still so blurry, then the memories came flooding back

Pup

Pup

Pup

Get to pup.

The warning pounded through his veins

His eyes shot open, his body aching, from the beating he received or from the hard concrete ground he layed on, he didn’t know, and he didn’t care. The only think he needed was his pup.

When he shot up his vision blurred, head spinning, as he regained balancing.

His consciousness slammed back into him like a freight train, dragging him from the drugged haze with brutal force. His head throbbed, ribs screaming with every shallow breath, the taste of dried blood and chemicals lingering on his swollen tongue. He blinked against the harsh fluorescent glare, disoriented, until the cold bite of concrete beneath him registered. Metal bars. A holding cell. The metallic tang of old blood and rust thick in the air.

He wasn’t alone.

There were about ten guards stationed beyond the bars, stone, faced alphas in tactical gear, military grade rifles slung across their chests like extensions of their bodies. Their expressions were blank, indifferent, as if he were nothing more than a stray animal caught in a trap.

“WHERE AM I?!” he screamed, voice hoarse and cracking from the sedative and earlier fight. He lunged forward, only to realize with a sickening jolt that his arms were wrenched tightly behind his back, thick rope biting deep into his wrists. No matter how hard he twisted or pulled, the knots held like iron. 

His shoulders burned, muscles straining uselessly. “Answer me! Where the hell am I?!”

The guards didn’t flinch. They stared through him, eyes cold and detached.

Then the tears started. “Please! Please just let me know where I’m at” it was the cries of a desperate omega in distress.

Desperation clawed up his throat. He tried to slam his bound body against the bars, rattling them weakly. Not caring about the bruises he would draw, the only thing he cared about and needed was his pup.

Tears welled hot and immediate, spilling down his bruised cheeks. “Please…please, just tell me where I am. I need to know, I have to get back to my pup. He’s only five. He’s scared. Please.”

His voice broke into the raw, keening cries of a desperate omega in distress high and fractured, the kind that pulled at instincts even in hardened alphas. A few of the guards shifted uncomfortably, but only one nearest the reinforced door finally spoke, voice flat and merciless. Sparing him a word

“Your being held in Jeons possession”

The words landed like a bullet to the chest. Jimin’s heart stopped, then shattered into a thousand jagged pieces.

Jeon. Jungkook.

The father of his pup. The alpha he had once loved with every fragile, foolish part of his soul. The man whose dark cedar  scent had once meant safety and fire and home now the reasoning  of this fresh hell.

He went quiet as thoughts raced through his head, as much as he wanted to push the possibility of the alpha being the caused of slll of this hinted otherwise.

Jimin went deathly quiet for a heartbeat, mind reeling in a storm of agony and disbelief. He had run to protect Minjun from this exact world, the blood, the violence, the casual cruelty that had shaped Jungkook into something untouchable. He had sacrificed everything, stolen kisses, shared heats, the dream of a mated life. All for a quiet apartment, that lingered with the smell of pup, the smell of milk, the smell of jasmine, and the touch of forgotten toys Jimin told Minjun to pick up every single day. And now? Now the past had reached out with merciless hands and ripped it all away.

But what was the reason, it was five years later after Jimin rebuilt his life. Five years after Jimin escaped, five years of solitary and quiet, so why would the alpha want to come searching for his lost love now. Why tear open the wound after all this time? Had Jungkook finally decided the omega who left wasn’t allowed to live free? His mind supplied.

The silence shattered under the weight of his despair.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS MY PUP?!” Jimin screamed, throwing himself against the bars again, ignoring the fresh tear of rope into his skin. Blood trickled down his wrists. “GIVE HIM BACK TO ME RIGHT NOW! I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU! ALL OF YOU! MINJUN-AH! EOMMA’S COMING, BABY! JUST HOLD ON!” He yelled, as if the small innocent child was close enough for him to hear 

The guards faces twisted in irritation. “Shut the fuck up,” one snarled. “Keep screaming like that and you’ll wake the whole damn block. Save that pretty little mouth for the boss.”

Jimin didn’t care. He screamed until his throat felt shredded, raw sobs tearing from his chest as he collapsed against the bars. Tears mixed with snot and dried blood from the fight, dripping onto his torn shirt. The pain in his broken ribs was nothing compared to the hollow terror gnawing at his soul, the image of Minjun alone, scared, calling for Eomma in some dark room. His sweet boy with Jungkook’s boba eyes and that tiny mole under his lip. The one who still believed the world was full of rainbows and love , not monsters wearing his father’s face.

Eventually, the screams faded into broken whimpers. Jimin dragged himself to the corner of the cell, sliding down the rusty wall until he could curl in on himself. Knees pulled tight to his chest despite the agony it caused his bound arms, he buried his face against his legs. Snot, tears, and crusted blood soaked into his pants. His jasmine scent had wilted completely, crushed flowers, bitter and dying, filling the cell with the stench of a mother’s grief.

And then he slowly lifted his head and took in his surroundings. It was a holding cell alright, it was rusty, metal bars blocking him from the people on the other side, dried blood on the ground Jimin didn’t notice before. And Jimin scents burned and wilted.

“Please, Minjun, forgive Eomma,” he wept, voice muffled and small. “I’m so sorry. I tried so hard to keep you safe. I left everything for you. Please be okay, baby. Eomma’s coming. I swear on my life, I’ll get you out of this.” He rocked back and forth,

Minutes, or hours bled together in the haze of pain and exhaustion. Every second without his pup felt like knives twisting deeper. He needed to see Minjun’s face, to scent him, to hold that small warm body and promise the world was still safe. The bond screamed in his chest, an omega’s instinctual agony that made breathing feel impossible.

Then came the loud groan of a heavy metal door opening somewhere down the hall. Footsteps, confident, measured, familiar, echoed closer. Jimin’s head snapped up, heart seizing with a brutal mix of dread and desperate hope.

There he was.

Jeon Jungkook.

The man who had once stood by his side through every mission, every stolen night. The alpha whose touch had made Jimin want to burn the whole world down just to stay in his arms. The one who had unknowingly given him Minjun and who now threatened to destroy everything Jimin had fought to build.

Jimin staggered to his feet, legs shaking, and stumbled forward to the cell wall. His disheveled hair fell into his eyes, blood still crusted on his lip, but his gaze burned with feral, mother’s fury.

“You,” he hissed, voice trembling with heartbreak and rage. “Where is he Jungkook? What the fuck have you done?!”

And the guards looked at Jungkook, shocked by the blantant  disrespect the omega gave him. 

The heavy metal door groaned open at the end of the corridor, and the temperature in the holding cell seemed to plummet. Jungkook stepped through first, followed by by armed guards whose boots echoed like funeral drums against the concrete. The moment he crossed the threshold, the scent slammed into him like a physical blow, rotten jasmine, wilted and acrid, tangled with the sharp copper of blood and the sour edge of pure omega distress. It burned his nostrils, clawing straight into his chest where an old, festering wound ripped open anew.

Jimin.

He was finally infront of him, after so many years.

The scent was engraved into his soul, branded there from sacred nights together and shared ruts. Every time a faint trace of jasmine drifted through the city streets in the years since, Jungkook’s eyes would burn with unshed tears he refused to let fall. Weakness. He had buried it under layers of violence and whiskey, telling himself the omega was dead to him. But now? The real thing, twisted by fear and pain, made his alpha roar to life with a vengeance he couldn’t suppress.

But he threw that all away he decided to selfishly leave.

Mate. Our omega. Hurt. Fix it. Claim it.

And he stood infront of him, he was still beautiful, but his blonde hair was disheveled. And a bruise lingered on his cheek, and the broken tissue on his lip signaled to Jungkook his men didn’t go easy on Jimin.

His alpha surged, primal and furious at the sight of bruises blooming on porcelain skin, at the dried blood on that once perfect lip. Jungkook’s jaw tightened until it ached, hands flexing at his sides.

 Hurt them. Make them bleed for touching what’s mine. 

The conflicting instincts warred violently inside him. His alpha had never accepted the betrayal, never stopped viewing Jimin as his, the one he would have burned the entire empire for, the one who made him dream of something softer in the dark hours. But his mind? His mind remembered the empty bed, the vanished omega, the empire cracking at the seams because of leaks only someone on the inside could orchestrate. Rage blinded him, hot and all consuming. If anyone dared touch him right now, he’d rip their spine out slowly.

Park Jimin, Pressed against the cell bars, disheveled blonde hair falling into his eyes, a ugly bruise blooming across one cheek, lip split and swollen. Still so fucking beautiful it hurt like a knife twisted in Jungkook’s gut. The omega who had once run beside him every day , who had laughed in his arms during private time, who had taken his knot and then disappeared like smoke.

Jimin’s eyes locked onto him, wide and shattered. For a split second, time froze. The air thickened with the collision of their scents, dark cedar clashing against wilted jasmine, years of longing and hatred exploding between them.

“WHERE IS HE, JUNGKOOK?!” Jimin screamed, voice hoarse and breaking with five years of pent up agony. It was the first time Jungkook had heard that voice in nearly six years, and it sliced him open. Not soft pleas or breathy moans, just raw fury. “WHERE THE FUCK IS MY PUP?!”

Jungkook blinked, confusion cutting through the storm for a moment. He looked the omega up and down slowly, taking in the bound arms, the torn clothes, the tears streaming down that beautiful, battered face. Pup? What the fuck is he talking about?

“STOP FUCKING WITH ME, JEON! I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” Jimin yelled, throwing himself against the bars again, tears pouring freely as his omega wailed inside him. 

Alpha. 

Alpha.

 Alpha. 

The chant was deafening, instincts screaming to press closer, to bury his face in that familiar neck and inhale gun oil and safety and home. But this wasn’t his alpha, not anymore. This was a monster who had stolen everything.

Jungkook threw his head back and laughed, cold, dark, devoid of any warmth. The sound bounced off the rusty walls like shattering glass. “I should put a fucking bullet in your brain right now,” he growled, voice low and restrained, stepping closer until only the bars separated them. His eyes raked over Jimin with possessive hunger and blistering rage. “After everything, you have the audacity to demand shit from me, after betraying us?”

Betrayed?, Jimin loved eveyone in the mafia, but the love for his unborn pup was bigger, and he wasn’t gonna let his pup be raised in an environment like that.

Jimin stopped, chest heaving. His omega betrayed him further, yearning desperately, closer, scent him, hug him, let him fix this, but Jimin shoved it down, blinded by the need to see Minjun’s face. “Please… just give him back to me. I’ll give you whatever you want. Money, information, anything. Just let me have my pup. He’s only five. He’s scared. He needs his Eomma.” Jimin pleaded.

And Jungkook’s heart ached, the omega was dragged in here, and he just thinks Jungkook will help him get his pup back so the omega can return to his alpha all hunky-dory, like Jimin didn’t rip open Jungkook’s heart the day he left.

Jungkook’s hands slid into his pockets, shoulders tense. He looked Jimin up and down with a sneer. Jungkook was the one owed, years of sleepless nights, missing funds, dead men, the ghost of a bond that had nearly made him weak.

He stepped even closer, the bars the only thing stopping him from grabbing Jimin by the throat. Up close, Jungkook was devastating. His face had hardened into something sharper, more lethal, jawline like cut marble, eyes darker and colder than Jimin remembered, carrying the weight of an empire built on bones. The silver lip ring glinted under the harsh light, just like he’d once joked about getting more piercings to match the tattoos that now peeked from his rolled sleeves. Tall, broad, radiating lethal power in that . Black dress shirt. 

Dangerous. 

Beautiful.

Alpha.

Jimin’s omega screamed louder, begging him to reach through the bars, to press against that solid chest and let the dark cedar scent drown out the fear.

But rage won. As Jungkook smirked down at him, that familiar arrogant tilt to his lips, Jimin gathered spit and blood in his mouth and hocked it straight at his face. The glob landed just below Jungkook’s eye, beside that strong nose, slowly trickling down his cheek.

And Jimin watched Jungkook’s emotions, waiting for the outburst.

Jungkook’s eyes shut instinctively, then snapped open. Something dangerous flashed in them, not disgust.

Lust.

Raw, dark hunger that made his pupils blow wide. A smirk slowly curved his lips, even as his men tightened their grips on their guns, ready for the explosion.

“Give me back my fucking pup,” Jimin snarled, voice trembling but defiant, “or I’ll kill every single last one of you.”

Jungkook slowly raised a hand, wiping the spit with deliberate calm before flicking it away. A dark look flickered across his face, hurt, buried deep beneath the rage, his alpha aching with a phantom.

Pup.

Pup. 

Pup.

but he crushed it. No. That pup wasn’t his. Jimin had run, gotten knocked up by some other alpha, and now expected him to clean up the mess? The thought fueled the fire higher.

His alpha ached in his chest

A low, menacing laugh escaped Jungkook’s lips. He clapped his hands together slowly, the sound echoing like gunshots. “Wow, Park Jimin. You really are a fucking character.” His voice dropped to a venomous whisper as he pressed closer, face inches from the bars. “Congratulations. You left me,left us, and let some other alpha knock you up. And now you’re on your knees begging me to fix your sorry ass problems?”

Jimin’s eyes widened, a lone tear slipping free. He didn’t understand. If Jungkook didn’t take Minjun, then who? Why all of this? His mind spiraled in desperate circles. He thinks I betrayed him. He thinks I had a pup with someone else. But Minjun is his, those boba eyes, that mole, the way he smiles just like him. I ran to protect our child from this life, from the guns and the blood. I rebuilt everything alone. Five years of loneliness, of looking over my shoulder, of whispering “I love you” to a ghost every night. And now he’s here, acting like I’m the villain when all I ever wanted was for our pup not to grow up pulling triggers like his appa.

“Please, Jungkook,” Jimin pleaded, all fight draining as exhaustion and terror crashed over him. He sagged against the bars, voice small and broken. “Just give him to me. I’ll explain everything. Please.”

Jungkook stared into his eyes for a long, heavy moment. The air crackled with everything unsaid love twisted into hate, longing poisoned by betrayal.

His alpha screamed to listen, to pull the omega close and scent him until the wilted jasmine bloomed again. But rage won. Blinding, all consuming rage. He wasn’t ready to hear explanations. Not when the empire was bleeding because of this omega. Not when five years of ghosts had finally taken form.

He let out a slow, controlled sigh.

“Let him out,” Jungkook ordered the guards, voice flat and dangerous.

They hurried forward, unlocking the cell with quick, nervous movements. Jungkook’s eyes never left Jimin’s, dark promise swirling in their depths.

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

They stood on the elevator, it went agonizingly slow as it traveled up whatever building they were in.

Jungkook stood tall and unyielding beside Jimin. radiating cold fury like a storm barely contained. His dark cedar  scent filled the confined space, thick, bitter, laced with gun powder and barely restrained violence. He didn’t glance at Jimin once. His jaw was locked, eyes fixed forward on the glowing numbers climbing higher, hands clasped behind his back as if touching the omega might make him snap.

And Jimin stood awkward.

His arms remained bound tightly behind him, the rough rope digging deeper into his already raw, reddened wrists with every shift. Two guards flanked him, their iron grips like vices on his biceps, forcing the bindings to bite harder into bruised skin. The pain was constant, a burning throb that matched the frantic beat of his heart. He kept his gaze down, cheeks faintly flushed, hyper aware of every inch separating him from the alpha he had once loved, and now feared with every fiber of his being. The proximity was torture. Jungkook’s scent invaded him, stirring his omega into a chaotic storm of yearning and terror. 

Alpha. 

Close. 

Safe?

No, danger. But still…

An awkward tension bubbled between them

Jimin looked at the number rise on the elevator, Jungkook’s scent bitter as it invaded Jimin’s nostrils. It was awkward to say the least. And Jimin was getting pissed off at the iron grip on his arms, it felt like the men were trying to rip his limbs off.

And Jimins legs shook awkwardly. Then one sharp movement ticked Jimin to the edge, he put up with it for to long.

One of the guards shifted his grip sharply, fingers digging into Jimin’s arm like he was trying to snap bone.

“I don’t know what the fuck your problem is,” Jimin bit out, voice sharp with pent up fury, “but your grip doesn’t have to be so fucking tight!” He yanked hard, trying to wrench free. The rope only tore deeper into his wrists, drawing a pained wince from his split lip.

Jungkook finally spared him a glance, cold, amused, one eyebrow raised in a smirk that didn’t reach his furious eyes. “We’re almost there,” he said flatly, turning back to the elevator doors as if Jimin were nothing more than an annoying inconvenience. And to be fair Jimin understood Jungkook’s fury.

But still. The dismissal ignited something feral in Jimin. Five years ago, this same alpha would have put a bullet in anyone who dared handle him roughly. Now? Silence. Indifference. It stung deeper than the rope..

His jasmine scent darkened, turning sharp and thorny. “Maybe if your men weren’t too busy rubbing their limp dicks against my thigh, I wouldn’t be such a bitch,” Jimin shouted, voice echoing in the small space. The guards grips tightened painfully, their faces twitching with barely suppressed anger, but they stayed silent. No one spoke against the boss’s prisoner. Not under that lethal gaze.

‘Still so fiery’ Jungkook thought.

Jungkook’s cheek twitched as he bit down on the inside of it, the only outward sign of his rising irritation. His scent flared darker, charred wood and storm clouds, but his voice remained dangerously calm. “Let him go.”

One guard hesitated. “Mr. Jeon, he might pull something-”

Jungkook shot him a single, deadly look that promised slow, creative torture. “And I’ll handle whatever stunt he pulls. Let. Him. Go.”

The guards released Jimin immediately. He yanked his arms forward with a small, victorious scoff, rubbing at the angry welts on his wrists the best he could. For a fleeting second, a bitter smile tugged at his lips until the elevator dinged softly, doors sliding open with mechanical indifference.

“Of fucking course,” Jimin cursed under his breath, stomping one foot in raw frustration. His small rebellion was cut short as a new grip closed around his arm, this one tattooed, strong, and searing hot. Jungkook’s hand.

Jimin’s heart stuttered violently. The skin beneath Jungkook’s fingers burned, electricity shooting straight through him. His omega betrayed him instantly, flooding with desperate need.

Alpha. Touch. Scent. Closer.

Memories crashed over him, those same hands cradling his face during secret kisses, knotting him with possessive growls. He hated how his body still reacted, cheeks flushing despite the rage and fear.

“Don’t use all your energy, buttercup,” Jungkook murmured, voice dipped in malice and dark promise as he dragged Jimin forward. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

And Jimin could only blush at the nickname. Cheeks turning a flushed pink.

And then they were off. Jimin didn’t recognize the hallway, hell, he was gone for five years, he didn’t  recognize anything. But the alpha dragged him along like a disobedient pet.

Jimin stumbling over his feet as they finally made it to a room.

Taehyung didn’t wanna believe it, he didn’t, but Jungkook’s voice on the phone didn’t sound like he was fucking around. And all the color drained from his face once he saw it. 

his old best friend, the omega he had once called his soulmate in everything but mating, tied up like a traitor.

Memories slammed into Taehyung unbidden. Late nights after brutal missions, the two of them collapsed on Taehyung’s couch sharing cheap ramen and louder laughter, planning impossible futures where they escaped the blood soaked life. Jimin teaching him how to hold a knife properly, Taehyung dragging Jimin out for secret drives at 3 a.m. just to feel something other than fear. They had been each other’s anchor, Jimin the quiet strength, Taehyung the chaotic light. “Ride or die,” they’d whispered during gunfights, backs pressed together. When Jimin’s first heat hit in the safehouse, Taehyung had stood guard outside the door for hours, snarling at anyone who came near. And now… this.

Jimin saw the pain etched into every line of Taehyung’s face, anger, betrayal, and a deep, shattering sadness. It was exactly what he had feared. “Taehyung…” Jimin’s voice cracked, a single tear slipping down his bruised cheek. Taehyung had always been there. The friend who answered every call, no matter the hour. The one who said “I’ll do it if you do it,” whether it was sneaking out for forbidden street food when threats were high. or covering for each other on risky jobs. Jimin had caused this pain. To him. To all of them. And to the tiny life he had so deeply cherished.

At the mere thought of Minjun, his sweet pup with Jungkook’s eyes, Jimin nearly broke. His omega wailed silently. My baby. Alone. Scared.

“Don’t…. don’t say my name,” Taehyung hissed, pointing a trembling finger at him. His voice wavered on the edge of tears. Jimin fell silent, swallowing the lump in his throat. He deserved every ounce of that hatred. He had chosen this path, for Minjun. To give him sunlight instead of shadows, laughter instead of gunshots. But gods, it hurt.

And at the thought of minjun Jimin wanted to break down and cry again.

“Don’t..don’t say my name!” Taehyung pointed a finger at Jimin, and Jimin went silent, he deserved it he thought. 

It was only a matter of time before the rest of them arrived. Jimin sat infront of Jungkook in the chair.

Taehyung was the first one he called, which explains why he showed up first, Namjoon was the next phone call, then Yoongi, hoseok, Seokjin being the last. And Jimins wolf howled at the names of his old pack members.

The alpha called two other people Jimin didn’t recognize the name of, they must have come after Jimin left.

Eunwoo, and hanuel, hanuel put up a fight on the phone, Jimin could tell. And Jungkook muttered a “if your not here by the time eveyone else is I’ll call a fucking assassin to put a bullet in your temple” and he hung up the phone after that. Voice sharp as a whip.

He wasn’t ready to see them, he didn’t know how they would react. He was scared.

An emotion he felt many times just in the past hour.

Taehyung stood infront of Jimin pacing, not sparing the omega sitting down a glance. And Jimin wanted to cry, but he brought this upon himself, this was the decision he made. Jimin could tell the omega was seconds away from crying, and all he wanted to do was get up and hug him.

But he physically and mentally couldn’t, physically because his body was bound tightly to a wooden chair, mentally because he knew if he hugged the omega his heart would never forgive him for leaving something so fragile.

And then the sound of the door creaking open stopped Jimin’s racing thoughts.

The door creaked again. Kim Namjoon and Kim Seokjin entered together, the mated pair a vision of everything Jimin had left behind. Namjoon’s face paled, though he had clearly been bracing for it, his sharp eyes filled with a storm of disappointment and lingering care. Seokjin, sweet, elegant Seokjin stuttered, hand flying to his mouth. “I… I-” Namjoon’s hand immediately moved to the small of Seokjin’s back, steadying him. Jimin’s breath hitched at the sight.

Namjoon knew it was coming, but he chose to ignore it.

And Seokjin, God, his sweet Seokjin was clueless..

He wanted nothing out to inhale minjuns comforting milk scent, he wished this was all a nightmare he was gonna up from and he would be right beside his pup, where he knew it was safe at. But he knew he wasn’t waking up anytime soon, this is reality,and the creak of the door opening again stopped Jimin’s train of thoughts. 

Another creak, and then came Hoseok and Yoongi stepped in. Jimin’s longing gaze lingered on them. Yoongi, his steady shadow on countless missions, the quiet alpha who had taught him half of what he knew about survival. Hoseok, the sunshine who could make anyone laugh even when the world was burning. Jimin remembered lying in a hospital bed after taking a bullet to the thigh, pain radiating through him, while Hoseok sat beside him cracking stupid jokes until tears of laughter mixed with tears of pain. 

“Hope, I-” Jimin began softly, the old nickname slipping out.

“Don’t you fucking utter that name from your mouth,” Hoseok snapped, voice colder than Jimin had ever heard it. The joyful beta shot him a look so full of hurt and betrayal it felt like a physical slap. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.” Jimin’s eyes widened, biting his lip hard enough to reopen the split. He nodded silently, accepting it. He deserved this.

Hoseok was always so joyful, Jimin came up with nickname hope for him because of it. But right now Hoseok shot Jimin the most hurtful look. Like he didn’t even wanna even look at Jimin.

And Jimin nodded, biting his lip.

And Yoongi had his head down in the corner. Jimin didn’t notice when Taehyung finally stopped pacing around the room and found his way into yoongis arms. It was always like that with them.

And Jimin yearned for a love like that.

And then the sound of the door creaking open happened again. Everyone turning towards it, Jimin’s eyebrow going up, this must be one of the other people Jungkook called.

And Jimin looked at the door. The scent of pineapple permitted Jimin’s nose it smelled of sex. It was strong, an omega scent, but whoever stepped through was an alpha. Jimin could tell by their large build, and the dominance that radiated off their body.

“This better be fucking good, left my fucking hook up for this shit-” and then the alphas gaze found Jimin. And his eyes widened.

That explained the pineapple. Jimin thought.

“Didn’t know we were keen on keeping omegas hostage like this” the alpha said and Jungkook shot him a look.

“Not the fucking time eunwoo” Jungkook said. And the alpha threw his hands up in surrender.

Eunwoo raised his hands in mock surrender, smirking. “Right, my bad.” His eyes raked over Jimin’s bound form with open interest. “He’s pretty, though. Where’d you find him?”

Eunwoo, that was his name.

And Jimin grimaced.

“Eunwoo I’m so close to shoving a fucking bullet down your throat, don’t test me”jungkooks voice was dark and laced with something and Jimins omega stupidly preened.

Alpha is protecting us

before he rolled his eyes at himself.

“I’m Jimin” he offered and Eunwoo shot him a look. A smirk growing on his face

And the room was silent. The tension was think in the air, everyone scared to say a word. Looking at Jimin like he grew 3 heads

“Sooo, can someone tell me what the fuck is going on-”  then the door bursted open.

The scent of strawberries hit Jimin like a slap in the face. And a man came in

He was cute, Jimin’s brain thought, small but toned, his hair was black. Omega, Jimin thought, then he spoke.

“I literally came as fast as I could, some shithead decided it was okay to go as fucking slow as molasses on the freeway, but I made it!” The man cheered. And Jimin wanted to laugh. He came stumbling in here not aware of the energy the room carried.

And then he went silent as he looked around. “Oh shit..” he said, the smile on his face dropping. As his gaze landed on Jimin.

“And why is there a random omega sitting in a chair with ropes and bruises on him!” But Seokjin cut in. His voice darker then Jimin has ever heard.

“You said he would start talking when everyone arrived” his voice steady “well everyone is here, so get to talking” and Jimin looked at Seokjin. Then his eyes wondered to his stomach. His eyes widened as they flickered between Seokjins stomach and his face. And Seokjin obviously knew why.

Seokjin had been seven months pregnant when Jimin left. Jmin’s breath hitched at the sight. Two months away from delivery when Jimin vanished. He used to call Jimin constantly, voice tired but bright, “Jimin-ah, come over. This pup is kicking like a maniac and I can’t reach the top shelf for the tea. Namjoon’s useless with this nesting stuff.” They had brainstormed baby names late into the night, shopped for tiny clothes in hidden boutiques, dreamed about the future together. Jimin had missed the birth. Missed holding that child. Missed everything.

Seokjin’s lips pressed into a tight line. “I gave birth,” he said quietly. “He was tiny, four pounds. A fighter, just like we hoped, he’s five now.

same age as Minjun, his omega supplied 

A tear slipped down Jimin’s cheek. He nodded, too scared to speak. If he opened his mouth now, the dam would break completely. They had planned that birth together. Laughed over onesies and debated names until sunrise. And Jimin had run before he could meet the child. But it made sense, Jimin was about one month into his pregnancy when he left. And Minjun was five, turning six in a couple of months.

But hanuels voice broke through. “I’m sorry to interrupt but could someone explain why there’s an omega sitting infront of Jungkook and he’s not dead yet, I’m really fucking confused” he said. And eunwoo backed him up.

“Yeah man, that was cute and all but my brain is going haywire trying to piece everything together”

The room fell into suffocating quiet. All eyes turned to Jimin, accusing, heartbroken, furious. The betrayal hung thick, almost tangible. Jimin could feel it pressing on his chest alongside his broken ribs. He deserved their anger. Their sadness. He had shattered their trust the night he left. But every choice had been for Minjun. To spare his pup this life of fear and loyalty bought with blood.

And Jimin took his gaze off the alpha talking and looked at Jungkook..

Jungkook’s gaze was already locked on him, dark and unrelenting. Jimin met it, cheeks flushing under the intensity despite everything.

“Jungkook, I…” he started, voice small.

“Get to fucking talking,” Jungkook snarled, leaning forward in his chair. “If you don’t, I’ll put a bullet between your pretty eyes. Got that?”

Jimin shrank back as much as the ropes allowed. He swallowed hard, tears threatening again, and he nodded. Ready to have the conversation he thought would never have to be brought up.

____________

The room was heavy with silence, every pair of eyes boring into Jimin like judgment from ghosts he had tried to outrun. The ropes bit deeper into his wrists with every subtle shift, his almost broken ribs aching fiercely with each breath.

 Jungkook leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, dark eyes locked on him with unrelenting intensity. The others stood or sat around the edges,  Taehyung still tucked against Yoongi, Hoseok glaring from the corner, Namjoon and Seokjin standing close together, Eunwoo and Haneul watching with wary curiosity. The air was thick enough to choke on, a toxic blend of betrayal, old affection, and simmering rage.

Jimin swallowed hard, his voice coming out hoarse and trembling at first. “I left… because I couldn’t do it anymore. The blood. The killing. Waking up every day knowing that the hands that touched me at night were the same ones pulling triggers on people who had families. I watched you all, watched us, become something I didn’t recognize. I used to believe in the loyalty, in the pack. But every mission chipped away at my sanity until I felt like I was drowning in it. I didn’t want that life for myself anymore. I couldn’t keep pretending that violence was just “the  way things were.” I needed something clean. Something where I didn’t have to check my back every second or wonder if the next body would be someone I cared about. So I ran. I faked it all and disappeared because staying would have killed whatever was left of me.”

The words hung in the air, raw and honest, but they landed like grenades.

Taehyung jerked away from Yoongi, eyes flashing with fresh pain and anger. “That’s not a reason, Jimin! You don’t just leave your pack like that, your family! We bled together, we laughed together, we had each other’s backs when the world wanted us dead. You think any of us wanted this life? But we stayed. We fought for it. For you. And you threw it away like it meant nothing.” His voice cracked, tears welling again. “You were supposed to be my brother!.” Jimins heart burned.

Seokjin stepped forward, his elegant features twisted in hurt, one hand protectively hovering near his stomach as if remembering the pregnancy Jimin had abandoned him through. 

“You think running solved anything? We all had doubts. We all carried the weight. But betraying us, disappearing without a word that wasn’t written on paper, that’s not how you escape. You left us wondering if you were dead, if we had failed you. That’s not just leaving, Jimin. That’s betrayal.”

Jimin’s eyes stung, but he kept his gaze lowered, shoulders shaking. He deserved their anger. Every accusation carved into him because he had loved them. But the image of a tiny pup growing up learning to load guns instead of laughing at stupid cartoons had been stronger than any loyalty.

Jungkook’s laugh was low and bitter, cutting through the tension like a blade. He spun his chair slightly, the motion deliberate. “How poetic. You wanted out. Clean hands. But explain this, then, money disappearing from accounts only someone with insider knowledge could touch. My men turning up with their throats slit in safehouses. And the worst part” His voice dropped to a dangerous growl, eyes narrowing. “Omegas and pups showing up dead in alleys, branded with my mark. The Black Diamond stamp carved into their skin like a fucking signature. Someone’s been terrorizing my empire from the shadows for a month, making it look like I’ve gone rogue on my own people. And you expect me to believe it’s coincidence that it starts right when ghosts from five years ago resurface?” Jungkook’s scent was dark as he threw accusations at Jimin.

Jimin’s head snapped up, confusion flooding his features. His jasmine scent spiked with genuine bewilderment. “What? Jungkook, I-I don’t know anything about that. Pups? Omegas? I swear on everything, I had nothing to do with it.” He begged Jungkook to believe him. And if this had something to do with his pup Jimin was gonna flip the earth up side down to kill whoever is doing this.

“You really left?” Jungkook pressed after seconds of silence. voice laced with suspicion even as he studied Jimin’s face. “No contacts? No ties? No one you kept feeding information to?”

“I really left,” Jimin insisted, leaning forward as much as the ropes allowed, desperation coloring every word. “The night I walked out, I burned every bridge. New name, only one phone under a fake name, no old safehouses. I moved to a shitty apartment on the outskirts with creaky elevators and neighbors who don’t give a shit about what goes on!. I worked café shifts and came home to a quiet life. No mafia. No pack. No you. I wanted it gone. All of it.” Jimins heart broke as he muttered those words to the alpha. Choosing to only look at Jungkook, because if he looked beyond that he would regret every decision he made.

Jungkook stared at him for a long moment, the room deathly silent. The others held their breath. 

Jungkook could read people , especially this omega, and the raw honesty in Jimin’s tone, the confusion in his wide eyes, the way his scent stayed steady instead of spiking with lies,  it rang true. Jungkook’s jaw tightened, frustration and lingering rage warring with reluctant belief.

“So who the fuck is doing this?” Jungkook demanded, voice rough. “If not you, then who’s got the knowledge to hit us this deep?”

Jimin shook his head slowly, tears slipping free again. “I don’t know. I wish I did. But I’ve been gone. Invisible. Whoever’s behind it, it’s not me.”

The tension remained suffocating. Taehyung looked torn between fury and old affection. Seokjin’s eyes were glassy with unshed tears. Hoseok’s glare hadn’t softened. The new faces,Eunwoo and Haneul shifted uncomfortably, sensing they were witnessing something deeply personal.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, leaning back. His dark eyes bored into Jimin. “What about the pup, then?” he asked, voice deceptively calm but edged with something dangerous. “You kept screaming about your pup in the cell Over and over. So tell me, Park Jimin, who the fuck knocked you up after you ran?” Jungkooks scent was bitter. He didn’t wanna believe the omega got pregnant. But Jimin was none of Jungkook’s business anymore. His alpha yelled at him.

“Pup? What are you talking about?” Taehyung said, he let go of Yoongi and stepped forward. but he was ignored as Jimin and Jungkook stared at eachother, yearning, as if they were  the only two people on this spinning earth.

Jungkook’s expression never wavered, his face remaining as unreadable as stone. Yet beneath the calm exterior, something hollowed itself deeper into his chest with every passing second. The omega he had once loved, the omega he had imagined a future with, had disappeared from his life without a word, only to return years later with news that he had a child that belonged to another alpha. He sat there in silence, refusing to let the grief show, but it settled heavily in his bones, an old wound torn open and left bleeding where no one could see it.

Don’t do this to me Jimin, please, he begged

Jimin’s heart slammed against his ribcage so violently he thought it might crack further. His breath caught, the room spinning for a moment.

He saw Seokjin in the corner biting his lip, bouncing his leg nervously.

He looked down at his lap, bound hands twisting uselessly, tears dripping onto his torn shirt. The wound was still so fresh, five years of raising Minjun alone, of seeing Jungkook’s features in that tiny face every single day, of whispering apologies to the empty air. He had wanted to protect their son from this exact moment. From this world.

But there was no more hiding. Not if he wanted Minjun back.

A heavy, broken silence filled the room. Everyone waited.

Jimin’s voice came out barely above a whisper, cracked and trembling with the weight of five years of secrets.

“Park Minjun…” Jimin’s voice faltered around the name. The words seemed to catch in his throat, refusing to leave. He swallowed hard, his chest tightening painfully as he forced himself to continue. For a moment, all that filled the room was the sound of his uneven breathing.

He could feel Jungkook’s heavy gaze on him like bullet on ice. Jungkook soaking in the name.

“He’s…” His lips parted, then closed again. The admission felt like a blade lodged between his ribs, twisting with every attempt to speak. Jimin squeezed his eyes shut briefly, gathering what little strength he had left.

“He’s yours.”