Jimin. Taehyung. Jungkook

The nicotine burned her throat, a sharp contrast to the biting midnight air. She sat on the peeling paint of a park bench, staring at the orange ember of her cigarette. The echoes of the argument still rang in her ears, her boyfriend's voice a jagged blade that had driven her out into the dark.

A figure emerged from the shadows. He wore a heavy black hood that obscured his features, leaving only a sharp jawline visible. He paused, casting a lingering, strange look her way before gliding toward a sleek black car idling at the curb.

Minutes crawled by. The silence of the park stretched thin. Then, the hooded man returned, flanked by another man whose eyes glinted with predatory curiosity.

She stood, the cigarette dropping to the pavement.

"I'm leaving," she said, stepping back.

The hooded man lunged. His grip clamped around her arm like a vice. Panic flared, white-hot and sudden. She reached into her pocket, her fingers curling around the hilt of a folding knife. She drove the blade deep into his shoulder.

"Agh! Fuck!" the man screamed, his voice guttural.

He reacted with a violent swing, his fist colliding with her cheek. The world tilted. Her head snapped back, a metallic taste of blood filling her mouth.

The second man burst into a fit of laughter, leaning back as he watched the struggle.

"Shut up, Taehyung, and help me instead!" the hooded man roared, clutching his bleeding shoulder.

Taehyung smirked, his voice smooth and dark.

"Okay, okay, chill, Jungkook."

She thrashed, fighting the grip that held her pinned, but Taehyung was faster. A chemical-soaked cloth was pressed firmly over her nose and mouth. The sweet, cloying scent of chloroform flooded her senses. The park lights blurred into streaks of white before the world collapsed into a heavy, suffocating black.

Consciousness returned as a dull ache in her wrists. She groaned, the sound echoing against damp, concrete walls. She tried to move, but thick hemp ropes bit into her skin, anchoring her to a heavy wooden chair.

The basement smelled of copper, stale bleach, and rotting meat. Rusted saws and stained pliers hung from a workbench, glinting beneath a single, flickering lightbulb.

Jungkook stood a few feet away, a fresh cigarette between his lips. He looked at her with a cold, detached hunger, his shoulder crudely bandaged.

"Jimin, look," Jungkook said, blowing a plume of smoke toward the ceiling. "Our new toy is awake."

Taehyung let out a low, dark chuckle, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

From the shadows, a third man stepped forward. He moved with a feline grace, his eyes scanning her body with a slow, calculated intensity.

Jimin stopped inches from her face. He reached out, his thumb tracing the bruise on her cheek with a tenderness that felt more threatening than a blow.

"You really are very pretty," Jimin whispered, his voice a honeyed threat.

He leaned closer, the scent of expensive cologne mixing with the filth of the cellar. He let his gaze linger on her trembling lips before looking her in the eyes.

"It's almost a shame that we're just going to use you until you are broken," he murmured.

He stepped back, a cruel smile curving his lips.

"And then we kill you."

Taehyung laughed again, the sound bouncing off the cold stone.

"Do you think she'll scream as loud as the last one, Jimin?"

Jimin didn't take his eyes off her.

"I think she'll be much more interesting."