BLOOD MONEY || bts mafia au

twenty.

The wintry chill cutting beneath the lazy breeze was Jimin's only company as he splashed through the puddles of filth gathered in the dips in the asphalt beneath his feet. He probably should've enlisted one of his soldiers to accompany him but he couldn't bring himself to. Not when the only people he wanted to bring were the only ones he couldn't.

Hoseok had disappeared the day after the discovery of Jungkook's ring. Jimin had seen the glazed over look in his eyes as he'd told him the news, the agony hiding just beneath his usually cheery surface. Now no one knew where he was or what he was doing.

And Taehyung.

Sweet, innocent Taehyung who had lost himself all over again the second Jimin pressed that ring into his hand. The older boy could hear the tortured sobs that slipped from his room when he thought no one was listening, the crashes of furniture shattering, the nightmares he woke up screaming from. He hadn't left his room since. And Jimin, who usually was his favorite confidant after Jungkook himself, didn't know what to do to get him to open up.

So here he was, walking through the crisp afternoon air, on his way to check out the disturbance one of the casinos under his protection had reported on the edge of their territory, his only companions the gun strapped to his side and the knife tucked into his belt. It was as much nostalgia as he would allow himself to admit to.

Jimin slipped a hand down to the gun at his side out of habit as he recognized the street the alley he'd chosen to take opened up into, remembering how these buildings looked like in the glow of hazy neon lights, the kaleidoscope of alcohol and tears blurring his vision. He hated this place. And yet, he still forced himself to walk closer.

Right away he heard the distant yet distinct sound of voices spilling out from the old parking lot wedged into the corner. A convenience store used to stand in the front, but the casino and brothel down the street quickly chased away all their domestic customers and rendered it useless so it was reduced to the sad pile of rubble the locals had taken to nicknaming the Mountain. As the point where three gangs' territories collided, there weren't many families that lived here so it was pointless to keep it kid-friendly.

Hesitance bled through his determination as the voices grew louder, tinged with the impossible to miss shade of anger.

Peering carefully around the edge of the Mountain, Jimin came to an abrupt stop, a fire igniting in the pit of his stomach.

Five men were faced off against each other, seeming to be divided into two groups. But Jimin's attention was drawn to the black-haired male in the middle. Even with his back to him, he automatically recognized the outline. It was impossible not to. It was the same one that had haunted his dreams for the last week.

"... maybe someone else should be in charge now," one of the younger boys was saying. "You've held onto this territory for too long. It's time to pass it on."

Jimin could hear the black-haired boy's snarl from all the way across the parking lot, the low warning ringing through the air. "You've got some nerve. Why do you think I've had this land for so long, huh? It's because I show no mercy toward those that try to take it away from me. And I'll be damned if you think you're any exception."

Jimin had had enough of this. His finger tightening around the trigger of his gun, he stalked out from behind the mountain of rubble and aimed the weapon straight up into the air, silencing the feuding gangs' arguing with a ringing shot.

A dangerous smirk found a home on his face at the way they jumped away from him.

"Don't stop on my account," Jimin drawled as he came to stand in the open. "I rather like watching quarrels turn into bloodsheds."