Dangerous Woman (Part 8)
A/N: After 4 long years, I am finally back with Part 8! Happy 4th anniversary to this chaotic series đ¤â¨ Iâm not entirely sure if anyone still reads this series but oh well; I would really love to wrap up this beloved series of mine with these last few chapters. I really enjoyed taking a trip down memory lane and catching up on drug lord Luhan and bad boy Chanyeol, and I hope my lovely readers/followers enjoy it too đ¤Â
Tagging: @nunchiwritesâ @yeolkissesâ @byunfirstladyâ @exosmuttytalkâ @isearchedtheyooniverseâ and all my mutuals â¤ď¸ I miss every single one of you, and I hope everyone is well x
Pairing(s): Chanyeol / Luhan x Reader + mentions of Kai x Sehun
Warnings: Swearing, degradation, violence, mentions of firearms
Genre: Action
Word Count: 5252
*Additional note: This is a work of fiction, and has no affiliation with the real-life people mentioned here.
I say nothing as Chanyeol jabs the âend callâ button on his phone and slips it back into his pocket.
Even as he pulls the barrel of the gun away from my temple, my trembling form does nothing more than quiver uncontrollably. I am rooted to the spot in numb shock, unable to comprehend the twist of events unfolding before me.
The only thing running through my mind is Luhanâs words. They spin round my brain like a carousel, clouding my thoughts with heated confusion.
I did what I could to get (Y/N) back.
What did this foolish drug lord get himself into now? What has he done?
Nausea curls in the pit of my stomach as everything starts to fall into place like pieces of a huge puzzle.
It wasnât very long ago when Chanyeol told me his tragic backstory of how Luhan had mistreated his family for the past few years. Especially in his sisterâs case. Before I came into the picture, Park Yoora was the drug lordâs fuck toy, a cock sleeve that was always at his disposal for him to use.
And now that both Park siblings are directly involved in this mess of a situation, it doesnât take much for an idiot like me to put the pieces together.
Luhan must have slept with Yoora in exchange for information about my whereabouts.
The mere morbid thought causes the knot of nausea in my stomach to tighten, and I feel sick rising in the back of my throat.
Chanyeol must have noticed my aghast facial expression and internal turmoil, judging by the smirk that ghosts the corners of his lips. His touch burns through me like a red-hot poker as the palm of his large hand meets my waist, dragging me into his embrace.
âLooks like youâre not the only one who has been fucking around, princess,â Chanyeol remarks airily. âLuhan and you really are two sides of the same coin.â
I force myself to swallow the lump rising in my throat, even as bitter tears prick at the back of my eyes. As much as I want to hold my tongue, to infuriate Chanyeol with ignorant silence, I know deep down that Iâve never been one to keep my mouth shut.
The words leave my lips before I even realize it. They roll off my tongue like venom, aimed directly at the monster holding me hostage.
âShut the fuck up, you sick bastard.â
They are an instant trigger. Before I can even comprehend what is happening, Chanyeolâs hand resting on my waist flies up to grab a fistful of my hair, dragging my entire head backwards effortlessly.
The impact of the action almost causes my neck to snap. Not that he gives a fuck.
His iron grip on my hair doesnât waver as his free hand comes up to wrap itself around my neck. Oxygen is instantly knocked out of me, causing me to gasp desperately as his thumb starts to press against my larynx threateningly.
âRepeat what you just said, whore.â The sneer pulling at the corners of his lips matches his jeering tone, making a mockery out of my predicament. Even in this state of me choking and gasping and knocking on deathâs door, my sexual profession is still something that is thrown back in my face.
Even now, as spots swim before my eyes and I frantically claw at Chanyeolâs grip, Iâm still spat on and mocked for being a whore. For being a slut. For sleeping with people to make a living, to put food on the table for myself.
It makes me want to die. In that moment, I want nothing more than for Chanyeol to crush my windpipe with his mere fingers and end my miserable life.
So I accept his challenge, lifting my chin defiantly and staring him right in the eye even as spots dot my vision. âI said,â I choke out, âshut the fuck up, you sick bastard.â
For the briefest of seconds, Chanyeolâs eyes widen in surprise. His thumb continues to dig into my throat, and the promise of my death hangs in the air like an unfulfilled wish. And just like that, he shoves my entire form away from him in pure disgust.
Like a piece of lint he flicked off his clothes, I go crashing to the ground as air rushes through my lungs like a tidal wave. Gasping and coughing feverishly, I lie there on the cold concrete, quivering like a leaf.
The promise of an early death slips through my fingers, and Iâm torn between breathing a sigh of relief and shedding mournful tears. Dying at the hands of a monster could have been my sweet escape.
The outburst of boisterous laughter tears me out of my frazzled thoughts, and I peer up to see Chanyeol looming over me, his lips peeled back in a twisted smile. But his eyes are dead. Bottomless chasms of maliciousness.
This boy is a complete psychopath.
âWere you really that naĂŻve to think that I would get rid of you so easily?â He asks incredulously. Mockery laces his words as always, and I loathe him for it.
I clench my teeth together so tightly that Iâm surprised they donât shatter. Instinctively, my eyes scan my surroundings for a quick escape, a door which I can scamper through and away from the monster whoâs holding me captive.
The only door is the same one in which we entered from, and I know without a doubt that it is securely locked. Besides that, there are no windows. No back exits. Iâm stuck, and it causes a sense of claustrophobia to wash over me.
My fingers curl themselves into white-knuckled fists as I slowly push myself off the floor and into a sitting position. I donât look up at Chanyeol as I speak, allowing my tangled hair to fall over my face and act as a wall between both of us.
âYou should have just killed me,â I whisper, my voice bouncing off the concrete walls and echoing through the depths of our souls. Itâs almost like a forlorn cry. âYou have no use for me, Chanyeol. I am just a whore, after all. A whore who happens to drive you up the wall and who is standing in the way of your plans to take Luhan down.â
âNice try, sweetheart. But your self-pity has no effect on me.â
I donât miss the way his gleaming white incisors glint in the fluorescent lights, a wolf ready to tear his prey apart.
***
Tearing down the traffic-filled streets of Seoul in his Lamborghini is not exactly the picture-perfect evening Luhan crafted in the rose-tinted glasses of his mind. All he wanted to do after spending hours in Yooraâs king-sized bed was to go back to his own home, put on some dull jazz music, and soak his aching body and soul in a warm bubble bath.
But his housekeeper obviously has other plans in store for him, none of which include some quiet time to unwind from the adrenalin and anxiety coursing through the drug lordâs veins for the entire day.
Chanyeol obviously possesses some lethal firearms at this very moment, and Luhan is definitely not going to let his psychotic housekeeper run wild while holding a young call-girl captive in his wake.
A young call-girl whom the drug lord is wholly and utterly obsessed with.
The blare of horns rip through the evening air, snapping Luhan out of his reverie. Curses leave his lips as he swerves sharply to the right, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with an oncoming taxi.
âFucking hell,â the drug lord mutters under his breath. His heart thumps ferociously in time to his harried breathing, spurred on by the sickening anxiety gnawing away at him.
Keeping his attention glued on the road, he reaches into his pocket for his handphone â only to realize that his fingers brush against nothing but the silky fabric of his trousers. Great. Itâs one thing to charge blindly into battle with his demented housekeeper; itâs an entirely different problem when the drug lord himself is uncontactable and nobody has a clue about his whereabouts.
He exhales wearily, taking a sharp right as he turns into a corner street. The bustling chaos of the city gradually fades into nothingness, allowing the drug lord to grow accustomed to the streetâs unsettling tranquility. The low hum of his Lamborghini serves as the only sign of life in the vicinity, and it does nothing but add to his rising anxiety.
The knot in his stomach tightens as he stares out his car window, drinking in the nauseatingly familiar surroundings. A neon sign hangs over the entrance of the building at the far-end corner of the street, snagging the attention of anyone who happens to wander past.
THE RED X, it screams in bold, blinding letters.
Luhanâs fingers tighten on the steering wheel. It feels like just yesterday when he bought over this particular club and turned its backroom into a central hub for his own drug cartels and business-related âactivitiesâ.
To him, it was like childâs play; all he needed was the cooperation of The Red Xâs boss in order to utilize the private spaces for his shady dealings. And he attained that easily with nothing more than half a million dollars. Money may not solve all of Mr Luâs problems, but it keeps peopleâs mouths shut, and heâs not complaining about that.
His only mistake was carrying out deals with Park Chanyeol in The Red Xâs backroom all those years ago. Now that his dear housekeeper knows about the safe space, heâs free to utilize it as a hostage area for (Y/N).
Not to mention that (Y/N) is probably held at a gunpoint at this very moment; the demented housekeeper is definitely giving the drug lord a run for his money.
Luhan leans forward to turn the ignition key, killing the engine instantly. Deafening silence fills the Lamborghiniâs interior, and he presses the back of his wrists against his eyes with a heavy sigh.
Tainted images flash in his mindâs eye, and he shakes his head in a vain attempt to chase the intrusive thoughts away. Everything â his sins, his wrongdoings, his irreversible mistakes - comes flooding back to him all at once.
Tearing Chanyeolâs family apart. Robbing Yoora of her innocence. Bribing hundreds of companies in Asia for their silence to ensure Lu Corporations never falls. Killing off anyone who stands in his way. Selling his body to another woman to garner information about (Y/N)âs whereabouts.
Chanyeol may have a warped moral compass. But Luhan is the one who is truly corrupted. Heâs inhumane. A murderer.
Out of pure habit, the drug lord utters a handful of Mandarin profanities. Not wanting to procrastinate or wallow in his pity party any further, he yanks open the carâs glove compartment and reaches for the gun inside. In the dim lighting of the carâs interior, the firearmâs steel coat glitters dangerously. It sits like a stone in his grip, prompting him to tighten his fingers around it.
Focus, Han. Get it over and done with.
He directs his gaze at The Red X, pinching his lips together in a grim line. Itâll only take a few minutes for him to march into the club and put a bullet in Chanyeolâs brain. Just like what heâd done to countless of people who dared to fuck him up in the past.
***
The pencil in Sehunâs grasp has been chewed beyond recognition, propelling the trembling receptionist to chuck it in the small bin beneath his desk.
Thatâs the third pencil of the night.
In the past few hours, he has been keeping himself occupied with gnawing away at his fingernails and the pencils littering his desk, overthinking, and waiting for Luhan to call him back with updates on (Y/N).
The drug lord had left in the late afternoon, providing Sehun with a cryptic explanation on where he was heading to.
âI know someone who may have clues on (Y/N)âs whereabouts,â Luhan had mumbled vaguely. âJust remain contactable for the time being. Iâll get back to you in a few hours.â
âPompous asshole,â Sehun grumbles to himself now, kicking his feet up on the desk with an exaggerated huff.
After Luhanâs departure, the receptionist had no other choice but to drag himself back to the brothel, thanks to the darling drug lord who drove off in his hideous Lamborghini without a backward glance.
Rich people problems. If being rich means Iâll have to endure my lover being kidnapped by a crazy housekeeper and running round the whole damn country to find them, Iâd rather be stone broke, Sehun muses to himself.
âHey.â
Sehun glances up, finding himself meeting the eye of Kim Jongin, (Y/N)âs personal butler. Or as (Y/N) prefers to fondly refer to as Jeeves.
âAny news?â Jongin lingers a few feet away from the receptionistâs desk, wringing his hands together. There is a worried glint in the young butlerâs eyes, and Sehun can understand why â as much as Jeeves doesnât talk much, itâs obvious that he has grown fond of the bubbly call-girl in the past few years of working for her. Itâs impossible not to; thereâs something wholesome and pure about (Y/N) that makes her unforgettable.
âNo,â the receptionist replies flatly. âAnd it seems like boss Lu has gone MIA on me too.â
âLuhan? He wouldnât do so without a good reason, right? Based on what I witnessed previously, he seemed pretty smitten with (Y/N).â
âHeâs an asshole,â Sehun fires back a bit too loudly.
A faint smirk plays on Jonginâs lips. âDidnât you say something different last time?â
Sehun sniffs dismissively. âWell, I used to think he was a good match for (Y/N). I mean, come on; heâs rich, he smells good, he knows when to keep his dick in his pants. Hell, Lu likes him. That ferocious feline adores that fucker.â
âSo, whatâs with the change in perception now?â
âMy god, Jongin. His housekeeper kidnapped my cinnamon roll, for fuckâs sake. What kind of housekeeper is that? What kind of people is Han mixing with? Either all of them must be a bunch of crackheads, or he has a tendency to piss people off. That drug lord is a walking red flag.â
Jongin absorbs the receptionistâs full-blown rant quietly, nodding along. âMakes sense.â
âAnd now he has gone all ghost on me,â Sehun curses. âWhat is this asshole playing at? I swear, when I get my hands on him-â
âWhy not just drop him a call?â Jongin interjects politely.
âDonât interrupt me, Jeeves. Iâm thinking hard here.â
A beat of silence passes. The butler dips his head, hands clasped in front of him as he patiently awaits a response. Thatâs when Sehun unleashes a gasp, springing out of his chair as he does so.
âI got it!â The receptionist yelps. âIâll drop Luhan a call.â
Jongin coughs, sending a pained smile in the receptionistâs direction. âWhat a great idea.â
Sehun pounces on his handphone lying on the desk, his fingers darting across the screen in swift motions as he punches in the drug lordâs number. A ringing tone fills the air as the receptionist puts the phone on speaker. It takes about six rings before a womanâs apprehensive voice blares out.
âHello? Who is this?â
Sehun and Jongin exchange bewildered glances. Who is this woman? And why is she answering Luhanâs phone?
âUmâŚâ Sehun clears his throat. âI should be asking you that. Where is Luhan, and what have you done with him?â
The woman unleashes a flurry of giggles, causing the hairs at the back of Sehunâs neck to rise. âOh, you wouldnât want to know what Iâve been doing to him,â the stranger quips back. âItâs a pretty nasty story.â
âI donât know what kind of fucked up people Han is hanging out with, really.â Sehun mumbles to himself.
Jongin swoops in gracefully, swiping the phone from the receptionistâs grasp and placing his mouth near the speaker. âMay we know who we are speaking to? We were hoping to get a hold of Luhan, as weâre unsure of his whereabouts. Do you happen to have any idea of where he might be at this very moment?â
On the other end of the line, the woman clicks her tongue as she digests Jonginâs questions. âHan left a while ago. But he was in a rush, and forgot to bring his phone along with him.â
âWell, thatâs pretty obvious,â Sehun snaps. âCut to the chase, maâam; my best friendâs life is on the line, and over my dead body will I let anything happen to her.â
âI have no idea who youâre referring to.â
âHer name is (Y/N),â Jongin chimes in kindly. âShe went missing a few days ago, and all we know is that Luhan was the last person who was with her.â
Silence fills the other end. The seconds crawl by, and it only adds on to Sehunâs increasing growing frustration. âLook, woman,â he growls, âwhoever you are, you surely must possess a certain amount of awareness to know that that damned Lu bastard is the most infamous businessman in the country. And you must be someone of utmost importance if you can even get anywhere near Hanâs phone. So, quit playing coy and spill the details of whatever you know. Now.â
The woman sighs deeply, as though Sehun is nothing more than a kid throwing a hissy fit. âSome things are better left unknown.â
Sehun inhales sharply. âListen here-â
âBut if you must know, Iâm Luhanâs lover. I have been, way before (Y/N) even came into the picture.â
Jongin lets out a strangled gasp, staring down at the phone in disbelief. Sehun, on the other hand, drops his head into his hands in defeat. âFuck you, Han,â the receptionist mumbles, his curses muffled by his palms. âFuck you and your entire lowlife existence.â
The woman on the line continues speaking, her words hammering into the two bewildered men. â(Y/N) was taken hostage by Park Chanyeol, who happens to be Luhanâs housekeeper. He has his own reasons for going against Han, but I wonât bother going into the details of that sob story; a story youâre going to have to thrash out of the drug lord himself, if you ever get the chance to.â
Sehun lifts his head, gritting his teeth as he allows the womanâs explanation to sink in. Fucked up is an understatement to describe this situation. âAnd how the hell do you fit in this picture?â
âMy name is Park Yoora, and Chanyeol is my younger brother. I sold myself to Luhan a long time ago to save my family. But in recent times, things have changed. And thatâs all thanks to your dear friend (Y/N) who tipped the scales in Hanâs cat-and-mouse game.â
Now composed from his previous shock, Jongin leans in towards the phone. âYoora, we need your help. You mentioned that Luhan left a while ago â where is he going? And do you have any clue on where your brother and (Y/N) may be?â
âTelling you is pointless. You wonât be able to run to the police for help â theyâve been on the hunt for Luhan and his illegal drug cartels for years, and theyâre hell-bent on taking him down. Unless you want him thrown behind bars, I suggest leaving the authorities out of this. And even if I do disclose info on their whereabouts, you wonât be able to barge in and magically sweep (Y/N) off her feet and run off into the sunset.â
Jongin and Sehun meet each otherâs eye, communicating without words. The receptionist makes wild hand gestures, using his fingers to mimic a faux telephone and putting it up to his ear while mouthing âcall the police now!â
In response, Jongin holds up a hand to calm the frantic receptionist down. The butler clears his throat before directly addressing Yoora once more. âRegardless of whatever you say, we want to know where (Y/N) and Chanyeol are. We wonât get the cops involved. Because weâre going down to save (Y/N) ourselves.â
Yooraâs laugh is bland. Devoid of emotion and dripping with disdainful sarcasm. âWhatâs in it for me if I disclose their location? I have nothing to gain from this.â
âYour brotherâs guaranteed safety,â Jongin says earnestly. âLike I said, we wonât breathe a word to the authorities. Nobody will know about Luhanâs illegal business activities, or the fact that Chanyeol carried out a kidnapping. Plus, weâll convince (Y/N) to not press any charges against your brother. That way, everyone is unscathed and free to continue their lives as per normal. And Iâm sure thatâs what you want, Yoora; Iâm sure you donât want (Y/N) to get hurt in any way. She is the innocent party, after all.â
Another beat of silence ensues. Jongin and Sehun await Yooraâs response with bated breath. Itâs expected that the answer will be a flat-out no. What advantages does Park Yoora have, after all? A brother and a multi-billionaire lover behind bars? Doesnât sound favourable to anybody.
So it catches Sehun and Jongin off-guard when she finally provides them with her answer.
âTheyâre at The Red X downtown. Good luck. Youâre gonna need it.â
***
Being held at a gunpoint by a volatile housekeeper is not my ideal evening. But itâs not like I have a choice when it comes to situations like these.
Backed up against a wall in a clubâs dingy backroom, I raise my hands in meek surrender, frozen in place with a gun pointed straight at me.
Iâm torn between passing out on the spot, and throwing up at Chanyeolâs feet. My body is completely lost, unsure of how to react. Do I laugh through my tears? Or do I cry through my fear?
Without warning, I bark out a manic laugh. Looks like itâs the former.
âWhat the fuck are you waiting for?â I choke out. The words are thickened with tears, my voice trembling uncontrollably. But my grin never wavers. Something in me has snapped, unravelling rapidly like as though someone has just tugged on the loose thread of my sanity. âIf youâre going to put a bullet in my brain, donât hold back.â
If Iâd blinked, I would have missed the subtle surprise flitting across the features of the man holding me hostage. But itâs there, clear as day â the twitches of his eyes, the slight quivering of the gun in his hands.
At the end of it all, his threats are empty. Park Chanyeol is not a murderer; heâs not used to a cutthroat, dysfunctional lifestyle. Because if he were, he wouldnât be where he is today â suppressed by a filthy-rich drug lord, subjected to his tyrant rule and left with no other choice but to turn against him.
At the end of it all, Chanyeol is not Luhan. And he is not me.
âHolding me hostage isnât going to change a thing for Luhan,â I spit out. I direct my glare at Chanyeol, staring him right in the eye as my next words drip off my tongue like venom. âAfter all, Iâm not the only whore heâs been shacking up with.â
Chanyeolâs reaction is instantaneous. Before I can catch my breath, he lunges forward and grabs me by the throat, slamming me back against the wall. My skull collides with cold concrete, sending waves of nausea coursing through my system as he shoves the barrel of his gun against my jaw.
âCall my sister a whore again, and Iâll make sure your brains cover every inch of that fucking wall behind you,â Chanyeol snarls. His breath is like acid, hitting the side of my face and causing me to flinch away.
A bang resounds out, deafening enough to shake the walls. The door swings open, violent enough to ricochet back and slam itself in the face of the intruder. But that does not deter him.
âMotherfucker!â
Fury is blatant in Luhanâs eyes as he wastes no time in firing his first shot. It misses us by a hairâs breadth, the bullet piercing a clean hole through the wall behind us.
On Chanyeolâs end, he maintains his iron grip on me, his hand tightening around my throat as he whips around and fires at the encroaching drug lord with vengeance.
The next few seconds seem to slow as Luhan breaks into a run, throwing himself behind the protection of a nearby armchair. Bullets tear through the air, ripping through the chair and leaving dozens of unsightly bullet holes in the faded fabric.
âGive it up, Han!â Chanyeol yells. The pad of his thumb digs into my larynx, causing me to gasp and scrabble at him uselessly. As usual, he pays no regards to my suffering. âGrow some balls and face me like the big fucktard youâve always claimed to be!â
The breath hitches in me as I stare at the ruined armchair with wide eyes â watching, waiting for a sign of life.
âA big fucktard whom youâll never be,â is Luhanâs calm, disembodied reply. The drug lord does not need to be seen for his presence to be felt; despite being fully hidden by the armchair, he still stands tall. Taller than the scumbag holding me hostage.
âYouâre a fucking cunt, Han,â Chanyeol sneers.
âTell me something I havenât heard before, for the love of God. Youâre getting boring, Park. Are you losing your spunk?â I can almost see Luhan rolling his eyes, and for the briefest of moments, a faint smile tugs at my lips. Thatâs the drug lord I know and love.
âEnough of your fucking childish games,â Luhan continues, his words falling like the sharp crack of a whip. âKidnapping a young call-girl and holding her hostage just to get back at me? Real classy, asshole.â
âI guess thatâs the only way to get your attention,â Chanyeol remarks bitterly. âConsidering that youâre too busy making millions and ruining peopleâs lives and fucking around with whores, eh? How was it like shacking up with my sister after so many years? Was it a nice, heartfelt reunion? Or was it a mind-blowing fuck-fest? And to think that you did all that just to get this oneâ â he gives me a not-so-gentle throttle â âback. Youâre really something, Han. I would be genuinely surprised if HIV doesnât kill you before I do.â
Listening to Chanyeolâs tainted words and hearing him recount the despicable details of Luhanâs sexual escapades is more than enough to instill a sick feeling within me. Itâs like a seed has been planted deep in my heart, slowly but surely sprouting into deep-rooted hatred and jealousy.
Iâm a fucking hypocrite. Here I am, relishing in the countless of fucks with Chanyeol for the past few days. And on the other hand, I have the audacity to crucify Luhan for his revolting acts.
But the hypocrisy of it all doesnât extinguish the growing flame of anger in me. And that flame is further fuelled by Luhanâs cold response.
âTwo can play at your game, Park. You fucked my girl, and so I screwed your sister so good that sheâs willing to turn her back on you.â
I drive my knee in between Chanyeolâs legs with all my strength, and instantly, a rush of oxygen surges through my lungs as my captor releases his grip on my throat with an anguished howl. He stumbles backwards, the gun slipping from his fingers and clattering on the concrete ground.
In the next few seconds, my actions are driven purely by instinct. The need for survival. I dive for the firearm on the ground, the familiarity of the gunâs icy steel surface sending a chill through my bare fingertips.
My elbow locks itself in place as I point the lethal weapon straight at Chanyeol. From the corner of my eye, I see Luhan emerge from his hiding position behind the armchair, his own gun brandished in the housekeeperâs direction. The drug lord shifts his gaze between us warily, his index finger dancing on the trigger.
â(Y/N).â Luhanâs voice is unsteady as he speaks my name for the first time in what seems like eternity, the tremors in his tone matching the way the firearm trembles in my hand. â(Y/N), put the gun down. Iâll settle this.â
âShut up,â I choke out. Everything around me falls away, blurring at its edges as sudden tears well up in my eyes. Before I can comprehend what Iâm doing, I whip around and point my gun directly at Luhan, inhaling sharply as I do so. The weapon trembles feverishly in my hand, but I pay it no mind.
Luhanâs eyes widen, his mouth agape as he holds up both hands in surrender. â(Y/N), what are you doing?â
âWho the fuck are you to question me?â I snarl at the flabbergasted drug lord. âWho the fuck do you think you are to talk about me as though Iâm some trophy to be won? Is this what itâs all to you? Some sick game between you and Chanyeol to see who can have the best fuck? Just because I slept with your housekeeper, that gives you the go-head to sleep with his sister? Fuck you, Han.â
Every poisonous word that leaves my lips is a stab to both me and Luhan. Whatever pretentious paper house of love weâve built together for the past three years is smashed and torn down by me. And it kills me inside to do so. But yet, Iâm unable to find it within me to stop, to pull the handbrake on my hurricane of pent-up emotions.
âAll this time, Iâve been trying to get it across to you that we canât be together,â I bite out. âDo you think I donât know about the people youâve murdered to make sure that your fucking drug business stays afloat? Do you think Iâm clueless about the inhumane way you treat your employees and how you crush them beneath your foot of wealth and power and authority? Tell me, Han; how the hell do you expect me to be with a murderer? And how the fuck do I expect you to be with me, a whore?â
âYou finally admitted it out loud,â is Chanyeolâs mocking response. His smug gaze flicks between my tear-streaked face and Luhanâs wide-eyed expression. âCongratulations, (Y/N). Youâve accepted your place in society; youâre nothing but a piece of meat to be used and chucked aside.â
The bang that resounds in the air is deafening, almost splitting my eardrums in the process. My arm jerks backwards violently from the force of the shot. The blood roars in my ears like a thunderstorm in its own right.
Chanyeol goes crashing to the ground like a rock falling out of the sky, the back of his skull slamming against the ground. A bullet hole punctures itself cleanly through the left side of his chest, dangerously close to his heart.
There he lies flat on his back, his glassy eyes wide open. One might presume him to be dead, but I know better.
Choked laughter rouses from Chanyeolâs corpse-like form. He turns his head a fraction, his eyes devoid of any last sliver of humanity as he flicks one last glance between me and Luhan.
With whatever thread of life heâs clinging on to, he raises his middle finger at us. And with that, his hand flops onto the ground as he takes his last breath.
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