Being pushed with a jarring force, I landed on the filthy floor exuding dust particles into the air. A sharp agitation spread through my knees that were now placed directly on the craggy floor but the pain was one of the least. The metal residing on my limbs were severely stinging my skin while the strain from the slap I received earlier still had a burning sensation on my cheek. What can I say, the hospitality they offered me was just phenomenal.

The men had dragged me to the second floor of what looked like an old abandoned warehouse and with the level of criminal instincts coursing through their veins, I was guessing I was here to stay. The five men kept their eyes on me like some hungry hawks while a few other new faces ran here and there making arrangements. However, leader Brute was no where to be seen.

The room I was pushed into had a pretty decent look though, didn't really match the whole creepy warehouse vibe. There was a queen size bed in the middle and the seemingly soft mattress lacked any sort of nasty stain. Two small nightstands lined up on either side of the bed with two bright sconces lighting up the space above each. An old wooden wardrobe stood along the side wall by a door which I was hoping would lead to a washroom. A rusty ceiling fan revolving with all its strength filled the space with a mechanical clamor and a large fenced window reigned on the opposite wall. The black and grey color scheme of the room wasn't very welcoming but it wasn't quite unbearable either.

"Settle down....there are some clothes in that wardrobe......freshen up and change into them. We will be sending your food up" with that the men unrestrained me and left, locking the unusually large door behind them. The door was made of steel, probably to keep the inmates in....

The feeling of the chains being pealed off my skin was both agonizing and relieving. With the minimum energy I had left in me I pulled my trembling hands to my pockets only to find them completely wiped out. They took away everything I had on me including my precious police badge.

It took me a lot more strength than usual to drag my tired self up and to the closet. The clothes mostly comprised of old over sized shirts and trousers. Gathering a pair I entered the washroom. Warm water descending down the faucet rinsed away the stress to some extent and the memories of the recent events lined up in my head. It was stupid on our part to underestimate our opponents but now I needed to scheme an intricate escape as soon as possible. There was no way I was letting a criminal win this battle.

"There's no way I am losing this battle" an angry growl left my mouth as I landed another clean hard punch on his chiseled jaw. The impact turned the dummy around and it leaned behind only to stand back up straight in front of me, his plastic visage carrying no dent.

"But do you even want this?" Yoongi spoke up pulling the practice dummy out of my reach while I stood there huffing in agony.

Yoongi had been a part of my life since I was 5. I remember that night when a badly wounded woman arrived at our door step with a 13 year old boy in her embrace. Vile looking thrashes sat on her skin while a nasty bullet hole on her arm oozed fresh blood. Tears brimmed her eyes and her lips quivered in pain.

"Please help me.....they will kill me......" the woman managed to blurt out the words before falling unconscious on our porch. She was immediately taken to our family surgeon who eventually declared her dead. Later researches informed us that her husband was a brat who abused all their riches behind drinks and women. He took several loans only to waste the bills and as a result he got himself entangled in a series of debts. But when the lenders started asking for their money, he killed himself leaving his wife and son behind. The lenders then started pestering the poor woman and ended up assaulting her to death. She died in front of our eyes leaving a 13 year old Yoongi to survive on his own. However my father didn't hesitate a bit before taking him in and raising him as his own. Soon he became a part of our family and I got the best gift life could have ever given me.

Unlike me, Yoongi willingly devoted his life to our mafia. He considered it his duty towards my family for taking him in. He was home schooled, just like many other kids in training and I ended up becoming his perspective of the outside world. Although I loathed the profession, I supported his intentions and he returned the favor. He was the only one in my family who knew about me being bullied at school and he tried his best to comfort me. Every time I returned home during holidays, Yoongi would load me up with blank canvases so that I can recreate all those paintings my roommates destroyed. He was always there to brighten my smile and lighten my sorrow. Yoongi became the friend I never had.

"I hate to see you like this Y/N. I know how much you hated these stuffs. I miss the Y/N that used to lock herself in the attic and paint for hours" a sad smile slithered up my face as I reminisced with Yoongi. I remembered how I used to run to the attic in order to cut off all the bullets noises.

"All that Y/N wanted was to paint her dark life with bright colors. But she never expected that the brush would be snatched away from her hands only to be replaced with a gun" breaking all the restrictions, a whimper vibrated up my chest. The thunder of my shattering heart resonated in my ears.

"I am so sorry Y/N, I couldn't protect you. But you know what, I don't believe in destiny. No matter what fate has planned for you, I am not letting you forget who you are. I know I failed but I believe someone will definitely come into your life who will erase your past and will paint your future with the brightest colors..."

"Well, you can hope for it but I won't. And regarding Lieutenant Jeon Jungkook, he is just a souvenir now for us to treasure and I am not letting him go..."