C50 - Soul-ed MATE

I feel a little guilty for leaving Jungkook. He’ll freak out when West shows up with his breakfast tomorrow, but I don’t have a choice. Aside from one day of speaking, he still doesn’t talk. He barely eats. I can’t drag him around Daegu. And even though I don’t trust Mrs. B or the security guards here, I believe they’ll at least behave for the camera, for the time being.

Besides, it would be harder to sneak two people out.

The one advantage I have is that I got to know the house before the extra security came. Before I became a prisoner here. So I’ve seen the way deliveries are handled, even though I probably couldn’t make it outside before being escorted back inside by West—or the man with the silver hair.

An Amish farm outside Daegu sells organic handmade soap. I used to order a special blueberry blend from them when I lived with my father. That’s the kind of thing Daegu high society likes to do. Usually, our beauty products and fashion came imported from Paris, like any respectable billionaire prince. Every so often there would be a new discovery—the anti-aging benefits of local honey or a silk made from worms only in our tristate area.

Anything new seemed fascinating, because we only ever saw the same people at parties, only ever discussed the same things.

The truck that pulls in front of the gate is an old model, with large curves and knotted wooden slats lining the bed. A faded painting of a buggy is painted on the side, the only nod to the Amish sensibility.

I have no idea if it’s really the truck they have or purchased for the old-world image, but it’s easily distinguishable from the brown package trucks that show up regularly.

I watch from the darkened stairs as Mrs. B bustles to the door, escorted by the man with silver hair a step behind. Security measures, though they seem more sinister after the conversation I heard.

With them occupied, there’s no one in the kitchen. I pass through the warm room, the scent of fresh bread permeating the air. Instead of turning down the hallway toward the room with surveillance, I walk quickly out the door.

With West in the room and the other two at the front door, no one will know which way I went. Eventually they’ll find me on the cameras, which is exactly what I want.

I cross the back lawn toward the forest, which curves around to the front gates.

From the protection of the trees, I watch the delivery man return to his truck and drive away, dust kicking up in his wake. It hurts not to be on that truck, but it would be too easy. Plus I’d be stranded on an Amish farm outside Daegu.

It’s slow going through the forest, trying not to leave any tracks, but eventually I reach the back entrance of the hedge maze. I pick up a brisk jog once I’m inside, working toward the center.

A stitch pains my side, and I stop for a moment.

Something snaps behind me—a twig. I turn, but no one’s there. Only an endless expanse of greenery.

Stop imagining things.

With a shake of my head to clear it, I continue forward. When I reach the middle, I sit down in a dry patch of earth to wait. Night comes slowly, leaving me plenty of time to think.

To think about my father, living alone in a sterile room. Comfortable, yes. He has all the luxuries that money can buy. No family, because he pushed away everyone he loved.

Or maybe he never loved us, my mother and me.

He could be a castle, shiny and smooth—made of stone, through and through. The moon sits high when I hear voices. I’ve been discovered, of course. Mrs. B would notice when I don’t appear for dinner. My heart pangs. Jungkook will be afraid when I’m not there.

The search of the grounds takes two hours. I hear shouts coming from the east as men look through the forest. And then I hear footsteps through the maze, on the other side of this hedge.

Finally, the moment I’ve been waiting for.

I follow a circular route so that I’m behind the man. It’s a man I’ve never seen before, wearing the same black T-shirt and black cargo pants that West does. He looks military, but young. Hopefully that will be enough to fool him. That and my familiarity with the hedge.

I follow him left, right. Left again.

We might be going in circles for all he knows.

My foot breaks a twig, and he stops. I tuck behind a wall, barely breathing, waiting. When his footsteps fade away, I know I’m safe. I follow with more distance between us this time.

He leaves the hedge, speaking into his cell phone. “The maze is clear.”

I’m his shadow, following him across the lawn and to the garages. If I stayed too close, I’m sure he would have heard me. But I know where we’re going. I only need to make it to the vehicle before he leaves. The hatch door at the back of the black SUV hangs open, as if it’s just been loaded.

When I stand at the bumper, I hear him speaking on the phone again. “Should I keep looking?” A pause. “Jo said he’s already looked through the house. He has the housekeeper looking again, but he seems sure they’re not there.”

I climb into the back of the trunk, between a row of black duffel bags. What are in these? They’re heavy, that much I know. I tug one on top of my body, hiding myself—and praying there isn’t some kind of grenade inside.

“He said there was a delivery this afternoon. Some fancy shit from a farm east of Daegu. She must have known the driver or communicated with him beforehand.”

My eyes close, praying it’s enough.

“We can check the farm, but if he had a plan, he could have dropped him anywhere.”

Something touches my foot, and I almost scream. Jungkook climbs into the trunk beside me, a serious look in his eyes and twigs sticking out of his hair.

What are you doing? I form the words with my mouth, no sound.

He doesn’t answer except to tuck his body beneath a duffel bag like mine. He smells like earth and fresh air, which means he’s been out in the hedge with me all this time. God.

“I’ll head back to HQ,” the man says, his footsteps crunching on the gravel as he rounds the vehicle. We stay deathly still as he approaches the trunk. The pause sounds like thunder in my ears.

Then the trunk hatch slams closed, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

When we’re on the road, the roar of the engine makes it possible to talk. But what is there to say? He knows that I’m escaping. And that I planned to leave him there.

His hand reaches for mine over the scratchy carpet on the floor of the vehicle. I clasp his frail fingers, praying I’m not leading us both to our deaths.

!!~~~~~!!

When we get into the city, the black vehicle pulls into a gated parking lot. We wait until he’s gone before bolting for the gate. I’m sure they have video surveillance here, at their headquarters, so we need to disappear fast.

A bus screeches by, coming to a stop across the street.

I take Jungkook’s hand and pull him through the accordion doors. Once we get up the tall steps, I’m not sure what to do. I rode the bus to visit my father in the nursing home, but I had money then. I’ve got nothing now.

The bus driver is an older man, who gives me a look of disdain. “Daegu Saber Ride,” Jungkook murmurs, before tugging me down the aisle.

Apparently those are the magic words, because the bus lurches forward. “Thank you,” I whisper as we make our way to the seats.

There aren’t many people on the bus with us, and they don’t bother looking up.

He gives me a small smile that seems to say, your first time?

So maybe Yoongi isn’t so wrong when he calls me Virgin lily. “We should go to the Inferna,” I murmur. “It’s on Fourth Street, once you go past the train tracks and—”

His hand squeezes mine. “I know.”

He knows this city better than me. We’ve both lived here our whole lives, but I only walked the hallowed upper society. Manors and house parties. Not the actual streets of the city I thought I loved.

How can I love something that I didn’t even know?

There’s an uncomfortable parallel between the city and Min Yoongi, but I can’t focus on that now. Not when he’s in danger.

The buildings change from the warehouses near the docks, where the security company is headquartered, to the narrower historic buildings of downtown.

Jungkook pulls a cord behind us, making a ding sound. The bus slows to a stop.

From there it’s only a block until we reach the Inferna, moving quickly in the dark. It’s not smart to linger on these streets. I may not know the secrets of the public transit system, but even I know that.

The Inferna’s door hangs open, an ominous sign. All the lights are off.

I take a step inside, my ballet flats crunching on something breakable and sharp—it stabs into the corkboard soles of my shoes. A pained sound in my throat echoes through the foyer, and I step back. Jungkook feels around the side and finds a light switch.

The air sucks from the room. Glass litters the entranceway like rose petals on a church aisle, leading the way down the hall. And there at the end, lying on the stairs, Namjoon’s large body sprawls across the steps. Skipping over the glass, I rush to his side. “Oh my God.”

I press my hands to the wound on his chest, but there’s too much blood. I’m wearing a thin pink cardigan over my black dress shirt and black pants, and I pull it off to staunch the blood. It makes a grotesque amalgam of pale rose pink and dark red.

He coughs, a sound of pain that fills me with relief. Alive. He’s alive. “Don’t,” he says.

“You’re losing blood,” I say, my voice high with panic. “Don’t go—” He coughs again.

I glance back, surprised to see Jungkook staring at us, wide-eyed and terrified. For someone who was so competent on the bus, he looks like he’s about to bolt. “He’s not here.”

“Yoongi?”

He shakes his head, skin deathly pale. As pale as when he first arrived at the Inferna.

Namjoon takes my hand, squeezing hard enough to grind the bones. I yelp, trying to pull away. But even despite his injury, he yanks me close. I’m an inch away from him. I can see the faint lines of his face, the slight silvery scruff of his hair. The striations of pain in his blue eyes.

“Don’t go to him. That’s what he wants.”

Not Yoongi, I realize. Kim Yongdae.

The same thing Yoongi has been warning me against the entire time. The same thing my mother did that ended her life. Except I don’t know that there’s any other choice. He’s closing every other path, forcing me to the one he wants.

“Yoongi,” I whisper. “He’s alive?”

“Forget him.”

That means yes. If he were dead, Namjoon would tell me in a misguided attempt to send me away. If there’s a chance that I can save Yoongi, then I’ll do it. I may be the queen locked in the tower, but I’m going to save the King.

I go to the phone on a side table and call the emergency line. An ambulance will come for Namjoon. Whether I’ll need one at the end of this remains to be seen.

And then I turn to Jungkook. “He sent you to me, didn’t he?”

“I don’t know,” he whispers, his voice thready. “You’re going to take me to him.”

Her head shakes, violent. “No.”

“Yes, Jungkook. I need you to do this for me. I need you to do it for Yoongi.” And I think he has to do it for himself, to break him out of this spell. He’s lived in a cocoon of Kim Yongdae’s making ever since the attack. The only way to survive is to break free, to become someone else—something else.

“I don’t want to die.”

That’s when it hits me, the realization that this is the end. Not for Jungkook and not for Yoongi. Not if I can help it. It’s the end for me, the same way it was for my mother. And maybe that’s the best end I can hope for. Not a love story. A tragedy, one I faced with bravery, my chin raised high to the end.

My mother was an adventurer.

I know that much from her diaries. I may look like her, but we never shared that trait. I never sneaked onto the lake in a stolen canoe, never fooled around with my classmate while men vied for my hand at the party inside. A rule breaker, while I minded every wish of my mother, every requirement of society. We were, each of us, born in the wrong time.

There’s one thing we share, besides the blood that runs through our veins. We both love a man that leads us to our deaths.

!!~~~~!!

I thought the streets near the Inferna were dark, but they’re nothing compared to the west side. The deeper we walk, the more shadows surround us.

I can see how Kim Yongdae manages to maneuver here, especially if he’s familiar with these alleys.

Jungkook seems familiar enough, leading me with a steady gait, if a worried expression. He tugs me to the side to avoid a particularly deep pothole in front of a diner. Light spills out of frosted windows, revealing cracked leather booths, mostly empty.

A waiter fills a coffee cup at one of the tables. His uniform is a drab blue, like the one that Jungkook wore when Taehyung carried him. I can still remember his hands tearing the fabric from his cold body.

“You worked here?”

He gives me a small smile. “Since I turned thirteen.”

My eyebrows rise. I didn’t even know you could go to work that early, but that shows how much I know about child labor. And then again, the west side isn’t exactly known for strict law enforcement.

“Did you like it there?”

His smile fades. “No one likes it there.”

“The food isn’t good?”

“It’s tolerable. Most things are tolerable, if you don’t have any other choice.”

I put my hand on her arm. “I’m sorry.”

He looks back, his hazel eyes imploring. “Don’t be sorry. I don’t want that. I just want you to understand this. To understand me. Because what you’re going to see next…”

“What?”

“The west side isn’t like what you’re used to. It’s not even like the Inferna.”

Unease runs through me. “Sometimes the way people talk about Kim Yongdae… it’s like he’s a ghost or something. Not even human.”

His eyes flash with remembered pain. “He’s not human. He’s an animal.”

“You don’t have to come with. Give me directions.”

He shakes his head. “I think I can sneak into the back and find some steak knives.”

I wish I could spare him this, but I might need help. Yoongi could be in real trouble, and we might need strength in numbers. We might even need steak knives, not that they would be much proof against the guns that Kim Yongdae has access to. “Are you sure?”

“Wait here,” he says. “You can be the lookout.”

Only when he disappears into the side alley do I realize we don’t have a warning signal. I suppose I would just run back and join him if I see anything. On the other hand, being a lookout probably isn’t a real job. We’re not robbing a bank, after all. It’s something to keep me busy so I don’t get in the way.

He returns in only three minutes, looking breathless. “Thank you,” I say, taking one of the knives from him.

“When we get there, I’ll go in first. I know the layout, at least a little bit. And there’s always a chance it’s rigged to explode or something crazy like that.”

My mouth drops open. “So you’re going to sacrifice yourself?”

 “It only makes sense.”

“Are you kidding me? It makes zero sense. If anyone’s going first, it’s me.”

“I’m nobody,” he says gently, as if he’s breaking bad news to me. “The way that royalty would have someone taste their food, to make sure it wasn’t poisoned.”

“I’m not royalty,” I say, horrified by his logic. “And no one’s going to die for me.”

He looks almost pitying, that he’s having to explain the facts of life. “Maybe not royalty in the official sense. But in every way that counts. Exclusive omegas like me, no one saves us in time.”

“Taehyung did,” I insist, wishing I could explain how broken he looked, carrying his body.

“He kept me from dying, but that’s not what I needed saving from. What Yongdae did to me…”

He attacked him. Physically. Sexually. My stomach turns over. “God, Jungkook.”

“So you see what I’m saying. I’m already damaged goods.”

I shake my head, thinking about that castle again. About how you have to break it apart just to see inside. About the fact that we’re all castles—hard, packed pieces of stone. Perfectly composed by eons of earth shifting and forming, carved into our individual builds.

And when we shatter, there’s no going back to what we were before. “Sometimes it’s harder to survive,” I murmur.

His hazel gaze sharpens. “Yes.”

“I won’t let you martyr yourself for me. We go together, okay?”

After a long pause he takes my hand again. Whatever we find, we’ll be side by side. I’m imagining something wild like a netted trap hiding beneath a pile of leaves, yanking us into the air as soon as we step onto it.

More likely we’ll find Yoongi already hanging from the tree.

I figured out long ago that Min Yoongi always gets what he wants. He’ll find a way, even if it breaks him. Even if it kills him. And I’m afraid that with this, it might be worst of all. Because Yoongi is made of stone— he’ll survive anything Kim Yongdae does to him.

The hardest part isn’t dying; it’s surviving. The way that Jungkook did. The way that Yoongi did. And even the way I did, after my mother died, after my father betrayed me.

A scream rents through the street, echoing off the brick walls. The hair on

the back of my neck rises. It’s an animal sound, made without conscious thought. Made from pain.

The sidewalks are completely empty. No one in the darkened windows of the tenements even comes to look out. They know something horrible if happening. Something evil.

The scream comes again, and I run toward the sound.

!!~~~~!!!!~~~~!!