Mobster's Mistress

Chapter 24

Colors

The light feasting on my eyelids until they split. I run my fingers through my hair as I taste the blood on my lips. This bed is an unfamiliar place but these silk sheets bless my skin.  In the corner of my eye, the shadow of a man grows closer to me. Instinctively I let out a blood-curdling shriek a pair of quick hands seals my mouth.

"Shhhh, it's just me, Jimin."

I let out a sigh of relief and my limbs fall. His hand rests and I catch my breath.

My gaze flies across the room scanning the unknown surroundings. I finally realize where I am. "No! No! No!", I cry. Fear consumes me and I can hear my throbbing heart about to vomit. Tears begin to pool in my eyes, my body begins to shake and my bones shatter. Jimin pulls me into a hug and combs my hair with his fingers. "Don't worry sweetie we're not at Jin's." I run my tiny finger over his fist to sooth me as I catch my breath. My eyes travel up his arms, I notice the blood stained brushes. I discover the same marks on myself.

"W-what happened?"

"Listen we need to get out of here it's not safe."

"Where are we?" I ask.

He lets out a deep breath and gathers his voice, "I don't know."
The minutes grow silent. We are lost in our thoughts, in odorless panic. Finally his rosy lips parts. "There was a crash. Someone ran a red light. I was so focused on getting there as fast as possible that I wasn't paying attention... You hit your head on the window and immediately passed out. Our car almost flipped. That's all I remember. Then I woke up here."

"Do you know what this place is or who brought us here?"

"All I know is that we're not just guests. We're hostages." He points at the bars over the windows. The steel bars are aged with rust, no nightmares to pass through them. There is no telling if we are underground or if it is night. Our eyes meet, the scruffy boy opens his mouth, "But I think I know who took us."

"Who?" I ask. A part of me dying to know another part with the answer already running through my thoughts.

"RED..."

He's right. It could only be. A cocktail of anxiety and relief runs through me. How should I feel about this? How do I feel about this? Jimin pulls me into a warm hug; we weep on one another's shoulders, drowning in our sorrows.

The French glass doors part, drawing my attention. A lengthy man strolls int the room with a limp and a walking stick. His face shielded by a mask. A classic red button coat hangs to his knees, his black feet take eager stumbles towards me. No words walk off my tongue, only creeping cries. Jimin and I cling to the bed not daring to let even the siltiest twitch distract us. We both focus in on the mysterious man, whom we are about to meet.

'RED?" Jimin questions.

The man pauses his movements. He nods his head yes, then procedes.

The sound of his steps grows louder each second. Now he is at the edge of the bed, one and a half feet from my toes. Without words, he leans towards me as if he about to lift me. In utter protest, Jimin's voice breaks the painful silence.

"Don't fucking touch her!" He lounges at the man tearing a piece of his material off of his jacket.

BANG!

A gun explodes. I lock my eyes petrified to allow myself to see the horrors on these blood red sheets. I hear Jimin's heavy breathes and find the look of shock on his face pale face. He searches his body for a hole but is stunned to find himself unharmed.

The click of a pistol at the doorway attracts our eyes. We find another man at the door with a silver gun in his palms, pointed at Jimin.

Jimin raises his hands and drops his head.

The man in RED proceeds to lifting my petite body from the bed, pulling me into his arms. He wraps his arms around my torso hugging me with passion. His tears stain my shirt and his whimpers nest in my ears.

"I-I missed you so much. More than you could ever know."

That voice, that small crying voice sends a lovely pain through my veins.

"Jungkook?" I whisper.

I slide the mask off his face to see his swollen eyes and wet cheeks.

On my backside, I feel another warm body wrap around me and Tae say, " I love you." The pistol in his hands plummets to the ground, for there is no need for it anymore.

We spend countless moments whimpering in each other's arms. Two faces I thought I'd never see again are resting on my shoulders. I run my finger through their thick fluffy hair and savor their sent.

The sound of gun clicks and we all turn to Jimin; the boy with a pistol in hand and a gleam in his eye.

"Sit down! Sit the fuck down!" He orders. "Who are you and how do you know her?"

"I am Taehyung and this is Jungkook; we are friends of Amanda; we are RED."

"Who else is working with you?"

"No one, it's just us," Tae replies.

"You believe me to think you two dumb fucks did all this?"

"We are-"

I interrupt. "Jimin they're okay, they're my friends. They are computer geniuses. You have no idea."

Jungkook intervenes, "We were just trying to save our friend. Now she's safe that's all we wanted. Now everything is going to be okay. We do not want any harm. You don't have to worry about us. Our paths will never cross again."

"We will be going back to America with Amand tonight," Taehyung adds.

"No, you won't. She's going to Jin as we planned. If she doesn't Yoongi will be killed, you will be killed, and when that is done she will find her way back to Jin. He always gets what he wants."

"We won't let you do that," Jungkook says challenging Jimin.

"Well, I'm the one with the gun buddy...You two, hands up go over there. Amanda comes here," He orders.

Tae ad Jungkook lay their hands by their side. Jungkooks fingers crawl to his back pocket to draw a gun to spit a bullet. The impact sends him to the floor.

He moans in pain as the two boy scoop him up and lay his vulnerable body on the bed. Tae sprints out of the room and returns with a first aid kit and a bottle of tequila.

"Wheres the wound," I ask.

"Below his hip bone. To the left."

I search for a pair of scissors in the then remove his left pant leg, revealing the hole in his flesh.

"Amanda! check to see if it went through or if its still in there. I check his backside to find clean, unharmed skin. "Fuck," I mutter.

Sweat pours down his forehead, his voice shaking. 'W-what is it?'

"Listen Jimin the bullet is still in you. I'm going to have to take it out. This is going to hurt."

He slams his eyes shut and a moan jumps out of him.

I snatch a pair of tweezer and begin to slide under his skin. It is difficult to tell if the hard surface that I found is, in fact, the bullet or bone. I take my chases and decide to grab and pull the piece. He howls and tears crawl from his eyes. I yank out a small scrap of metal smothered in blood. Immediately after we bath the wound in alcohol.

Hours later we find ourselves scatter around the room, our clothes soaked in sweat and blood, as we watch over Jimin sleeping. 

I look up to the raven-haired buy resting my right shoulder and ask,"Why?"

He raises his head and gives me a puzzled look.

"Jungkook, why RED?"

"To me red is the color of hope. The color of blood, the color life, the color of new beginnings. Pay attention to the colors in your life; they have meaning to them."