#and then i could hear men laughing at me through the intercom. i was mortified

[husbo-venus]

had a bad grindr experience gang :/

[maatryoshkaa]

young god | chapter 16

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | epilogue |

word count: 14.3k

warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, domestic & child abuse, sexual abuse of a minor, descriptions of mental illness, death, dark themes and foul language. once again, all information regarding psychiatric conditions or courtroom procedures are to be taken with a grain of salt.

description: Han Jisung wrestles with the demons of his past as Kim Seungmin faces his own dilemma in the present, with one last chilling threat from Prosecutor Kang forcing Seungmin to make a final, crucial decision. The clock is counting down as your last chance wears thin, and one unexpected declaration is all it takes for things to change—forever.

watch the trailer here!

16| the prisoner’s dilemma.

Jisung was still frozen in place long after the heavy doors had swung shut and erased your face from his sight. His own hand felt foreign as he held it against his stinging cheek, the dull throbbing drowned out by the words still ringing in his ears.

Your friends want you to stay alive. Your mother wanted you to stay alive.

I need you to stay alive.

Bang Chan was watching him from the side, the detective’s eyes filled with equal parts amusement and wariness. Finally, he spoke. “You deserved that, you know.”

Jisung was silent, but his mind was already replaying the scene over and over again. Your anxious eyes, your voice trembling with the effort to stay steady. The slap couldn’t compare to the pain that had etched itself into your features every time he had spoken harshly, trying again and again to push you away. I know I did.

Chan sighed. “How are you feeling?”

A soft laugh escaped from Jisung’s dry mouth. “Dizzy,” he deadpanned honestly. The adrenaline was beginning to die down, but instead of leaving him sick in the stomach and with a pounding headache like usual, Jisung felt almost...lightheaded with relief. “Like...like a kid that just got told off?”

The detective chuckled, letting out his low, signature whistle. “What’d I tell you? That’s love, mate.” 

Jisung looked at him now, incredulous. “Getting slapped in the face?”

“No,” Chan smiled, but for once, his eyes were serious. “Someone who cares about you enough to call you out when you’re wrong.”

Not knowing what to say, Jisung turned away, letting the ticking of the clock on the wall fill the strained silence. He could still feel Chan’s gaze on him, but it was no longer the look of a detective trying to dissect a case file. Instead, it held the same strange softness it had when Chan had pulled Jisung aside at the Third Eye, and asked if he was okay.

“I told you once,” Chan began slowly, “that everyone deserves to be loved, and that you’re no different. Of course, things have...changed,” he continued, and Jisung looked down, throat tight as he waited for Chan to finish. “But I still stand by what I said.”

Before Jisung could reply, the intercom crackled overhead. “The court hearing  for Han Jisung and the Miroh Heights Murder Cases will be resuming in five minutes. All attorneys, jurors, and participants in the trial, please report to the courtroom immediately—”

“Detective, you should get going,” a security guard spoke lowly to Chan, who sighed and nodded, pulling himself to his feet. As he passed where Jisung was standing, he stopped briefly.

“You’re a good kid, Han Jisung. Even if you don’t believe it yourself...you had better start to.”

“Chan—”

The detective had reached the door when he looked over his shoulder at Jisung. He had the same old mischievous smile on his face again, but his eyes were sad. 

“I hope we can grab another coffee together some time, yeah?”

━━━━━━━━

Seungmin’s head was spinning as he pushed through rooms packed with spectators and reporters until he finally stumbled into an emptier hallway. His eyes gleaned the plaques on the doors, searching for the room number the court clerks had given him after Seungmin had overheard their frantic conversation.

“We can’t just end the case here — the media and people’ll riot.”

“But we’ve lost a witness and the lead prosecutor of the case in one day — how the hell is the trial supposed to continue?”

The clerk wringed his hands. “We need to find out if there were any other prosecutors working with Kang on the case — call them in ASAP—”

And so, here Seungmin was — heart threatening to leap out of his throat, charging headfirst into a case that had been ripped out of his hands months ago. He had stepped into their conversation impulsively, and now a thousand warning bells were going off in his mind. 

Kim Seungmin was not impulsive. Kim Seungmin always calculated his plans perfectly, meticulously. It was one of the reasons why he had always been at the top of his class, graduating a year early with honours. Always praised for being levelheaded and thorough. 

Still, he thought, there had been one person that had seen right through him.

“You’re stressed,” you blurted bluntly, and Seungmin’s coffee cup froze midway to his lips. You were in his office, one of the many meetings you two had arranged in order to keep each other updated with information regarding Jisung’s case. 

“We’re all stressed,” Seungmin replied matter-of-factly, unsure where you were going with this, but you shook your head.

“But you try the hardest out of all of us to hide it. Tell me if I’m crossing a line here, but—” you looked at him, tilting your head. “You seem like the type who’s calm and collected on the outside to...hide the fact that you’re still wrestling with nerves, and insecurities, on the inside. Like a defense mechanism.”

Seungmin fell silent. Instinctively, he felt the urge to laugh it off, but in a fleeting moment, his mind wandered to his coworkers— their condescending gazes at who they thought was just a lucky amateur, a young imposter infringing upon a field with people twice his age. Since his first day at the law firm, Seungmin had felt an unbearable desire to prove himself worthy in their eyes, and the anxious feeling ate away at him every time he touched a case. 

Sensing the sudden change in mood, you quickly stammered, “I-I’m sorry, that was so unnecessary—what I’m trying to say is— it’s okay to be nervous. Don’t psyche yourself out with your own expectations for yourself. U-um—”

You trailed off, mortified, but Seungmin let out a small laugh, shaking his head lightly when your eyes widened in confusion. “No, no, it’s just…” You were smart and capable — anyone could see that — but always seemed to second-guess your own abilities. He found it almost endearing. “You really are a psychology major, Miss l/n.”

Seungmin rounded a corner and nearly slammed into someone that had just walked out of the men’s washrooms. Before he could apologise, Seungmin looked up into the man’s face and his gut twisted unpleasantly.

Prosecutor Kang seized Seungmin by the collar before he could walk away, his face livid. The younger man’s eyes darted down either side of the empty hallway, then back at his former senior. He had heard Kang was to be kept at the courthouse until the end of the trial, in case they needed anything from him. There were guards flanking every entrance and exit, so Kang couldn’t exactly escape, but seeing him walk around unsupervised still made Seungmin uneasy.

“S-sir, you can’t—”

“Do you remember what you said? What you promised?” Kang seethed, eyes wild as they raked Seungmin up and down. “‘I can handle it. I’ll find the culprit, and I’ll convict him. Death penalty, no less.’” 

Hearing his own words coming out of Kang’s mouth made Seungmin wince and shrink back. Kang caught his discomfort, grinning savagely before jerking his head in the direction of the holding cells, where Jisung was. “You’re taking over the case, aren’t you? Your culprit’s right there. Everything’s been laid out for you, it couldn’t be simpler.”

Seungmin let out a shaky breath, fists clenched by his sides. Before he could open his mouth, Kang pulled him in closer, voice dangerously low. 

“I always thought it was fishy, you know — someone your age, already entering the field? So I did my research.” Kang paused, smirking. “You’re a little prodigy, aren’t you? I didn’t know your parents were renowned lawyers, too.”

At that, Seungmin froze, shocked eyes darting up to meet Kang’s. It was true — born into a family of influential law enforcement officials, Seungmin had practically grown up reading about legal matters and judicial affairs. Despite his efforts to keep his parentage discreet as he grew older — hating the way their reputations always preceded his own — the expectations to follow in their footsteps had always remained suffocating. He loved law with all his heart, but his own family had become yet another reason why Seungmin had so much to live up to, and even more to lose.

The older prosecutor chuckled — Seungmin must have looked like a deer in headlights. “You can’t disappoint them, yes? You need to do everything you can to uphold the big family name.” Kang’s voice had a dangerous edge to it, like a blade. “My career might be over, little prosecutor, but I have far more power than you think. I can make sure you never step foot into this profession ever again. You want to prove yourself? To me, to your fellow prosecutors, to your parents? Here’s your chance.”

There was a snakelike glint in Kang’s eyes when he finally let Seungmin go, his words seeping through Seungmin’s mind like poison. 

Prove yourself. Prove yourself. A security guard had appeared at the end of the hallway, and without another word, Kang calmly turned on his heel, letting the guard escort him away. Seungmin watched his silhouette grow fainter, feeling sick to his stomach. 

Just how many cases...no, how many prosecutors had Kang manipulated for his own benefit?

He took a shuddering breath. Time was running out. Forcing his feet to move, Seungmin finally found the room, barely listening when the clerk quickly explained that the rights to the case were being transferred to him last minute. 

“Ten minutes, Prosecutor Kim. You have approximately ten minutes to prepare your case.”

The roomful of law officials were watching him with doubtful eyes — the same doubtful, scornful gazes that had followed him his entire life. Ten minutes. Picking up where Kang had left off would be the smoothest, most reasonable route. Preparing an entirely different argument, however, was suicide.

Seungmin glanced up at the clock, and his heart sank.

━━━━━━━━

The commotion in the courtroom sounded like the buzzing of an agitated beehive, the constant thrumming of hushed conversations and your own erratic heartbeat fueling the tense atmosphere. 

Hyunjin, Felix, Woojin, and you had sprinted straight to the courtroom after a rapid search for Seungmin had turned up futile — the prosecutor was nowhere to be seen, but judging from the murmurs you overheard around you, the case had been transferred into his hands with mere minutes to spare. You bit your lip nervously. This should have been good news, but you all knew that the odds — and time — were still against you. Looking the weariest you’d ever seen him, Bang Chan collapsed into the seat next to you. He tried to give you a reassuring smile, but as he turned away, eyes glued to the scene about to unfold, you saw that his features were strained and pale. 

With a creak that send a hush rippling through the courtroom, the doors swung open to reveal more familiar faces — the judge, the prosecution, the jury. Your eyes instinctively flickered to Jisung, whose expression was as guarded as ever, and instantly felt a pang of guilt in your chest. The rest of the room, however, had fallen silent before the judge had even spoken. All their gazes were trained on the new prosecutor that had entered the room.

Seungmin felt the stares on him before he even looked up, dozens of eyes weighing down on him as if he were a butterfly pinned to a specimen table. He should have gotten used to the stares by now — this was far from his first court hearing — but when he looked out into the faces of the audience, he still felt the same squeamish anxiety he had always tried so desperately to ignore. Their expressions were dubious, condescending, unconvinced — as if all to say, is this a joke? This kid is the new lead prosecutor?

The judge cleared her throat, pushing her half-moon spectacles back onto her nose. “Thank you for your patience. The court hearing for Han Jisung and the Miroh Heights Murder Cases is now back in session. You may be seated.” She turned to Seungmin, eyes narrowed. “What is the case the prosecution will be presenting?”

Seungmin’s mind was racing as he turned over the envelope in his hands — the envelope containing Kang’s case file — and slid out the papers with numb fingertips. As he did so, familiar words echoed in his mind — words he had been told since he had first chosen to study law, and words he had forced himself to live by ever since.

“You have a big heart, Kim Seungmin — too big. Learn to control your emotions if you want to make it in this field.”

“You have to be cold, quick, and rational. Kindness is a weakness.”

“There is no room for a wavering heart in prosecution.”

He had always taken the words like bitter medicine, beyond determined to prove to his older coworkers that he wasn’t just the incompetent young prosecutor they always made him out to be. Desperate to prove to his family that he was capable, that he wouldn’t tarnish their names. Every step he had taken had been careful, calculated, all so that Seungmin could win their approval, finally escape their suffocating scrutiny. 

“Your Honour,” Seungmin began, “as a prosecutor, I was taught that my duty is to defend the rule of law to ensure justice is served, no matter how harsh it may be.”

You watched the young prosecutor speak carefully, his grave expression making your gut twist. Kim Seungmin, Chan had told you once in passing, came from a family of established lawyers — a child prodigy with big shoes to fill, and everything to lose. And now, you realised with dread, his words seemed to be an exact echo of Prosecutor Kang’s.

Seungmin’s stomach was fluttering as if it were his first trial again, heart palpitating with each passing moment as he was seized with the sudden urge to run. Taking a deep breath, his gaze flickered up to meet yours in the audience — your blazing eyes, charged with emotion, your heart always written so clearly across your adamant features. You, who stopped at nothing in order to protect what you believed was right.

Prove yourself. Prove to everyone you’re good enough, strong enough.

He closed his eyes, knowing that he would regret what he was about to say.

“But I was also taught that a good prosecutor is one that uses the law to protect the people.” Seungmin swallowed hard, sliding Kang’s papers back into the envelope and dropping it onto the desk behind him. “Thus, the case I am presenting today is not one that intends to prove Han Jisung guilty of first degree murder.”

The entire room erupted in frantic murmurs, the judge hurriedly banging the gavel to maintain order. Seungmin caught a glimpse of Jisung’s expression — the boy was still looking down, but his face had paled in surprise at the prosecutor’s sudden declaration. Just then, the doors burst open, a red-faced clerk with a handful of padded envelopes ducking in and hurrying to Seungmin’s side.

“What you requested, sir,” the clerk explained quietly, handing him the envelopes, and Seungmin recalled the conversation they had had in the conference rooms, just before the trial had recommenced. 

“There are ten minutes remaining until we have to begin,” the clerk informed Seungmin worriedly, seeing the young prosecutor’s tense face. “Is there anything you need from the former prosecution? Since these are special circumstances, I can have them brought to you as soon as possible during the trial.”

Either ten minutes to gather the evidence he needed, Seungmin thought dismally, or ten minutes to build a strong argument from what he—no, Kang—already had. 

“Listen carefully.” Screwing his eyes shut, Seungmin continued, “Please fetch me Han Jisung’s camcorder footage — the memory cards — and Yang Jeongin’s Walkman tapes from Prosecutor Kang’s archives. All of them, immediately.”

The knot of anxiety in Seungmin’s chest finally began to unclench, the envelopes’ contents anchoring him in place with a reassuring weight. He turned to the judge, surprised at the newfound authority in his own voice. “The prosecution maintains that Han Jisung is not guilty of first degree murder. We will be presenting all the evidence Prosecutor Kang excluded, and examining the case from all angles so that the jury may form an accurate judgement and verdict.”

“That’s—an entirely new argument,” Hyunjin whispered incredulously beside you. “How did he come up with a case in ten minutes?”

“He didn’t. He’s building his case on the spot,” Chan realised out loud, a small smile spreading on his lips. He leaned forward with a glint of pride in his eyes. “Now that’s the Kim Seungmin I know.”

You watched as Seungmin called up his first witness, who was none other than Kang’s psychiatric expert. “You introduced yourself as the psychiatrist involved with this case — responsible for analysing the defendant’s mental condition, correct?”

The red-nosed man coughed nervously. “Y-yes, uh, well — the defendant was unwilling to speak during the evaluation, so we were unable to gain much personal testimony—”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Seungmin picked up one the envelopes, handing it to the court clerk and motioning for him to project the contents. “The following is recovered footage from a camcorder the defendant was gifted when he was six years old, and developed a habit of carrying around.” He turned towards the psychiatrist. “It’s raw, untampered footage containing experiences from the defendant’s childhood. I want you to watch it and answer a few questions. There is, however, graphic content, and I advise the spectators to view it with caution.” 

You saw Seungmin cast a worried look towards Jisung, and you knew how the prosecutor was feeling. After nearly thirteen years of Jisung hiding his past from even his closest friends, it was all suddenly being thrust under the harsh light — in front of a roomful of people who wanted to sentence him to death, no less — but you both knew that this was your last chance.

The projector whirred as the clerk inserted the first memory cards into the computer. The memory cards had been confiscated by Kang before you had gotten the chance to watch them yourself — what you did know about the footage came from the bits Chan had recounted for you after several insistent phone calls, and what Jisung himself had told you that fateful night. Uneasiness stirring in your chest, you watched as the screen came to life, blurry colours and pixelated outlines taking shape. 

There was nothing out of the ordinary at first — short clips of chipped action figures on dusty windowsills, or toy cars rolling idly across wooden floors. The footage was shaky, as if the person holding the camcorder could barely support its weight. Jisung had barely been six years old, you remembered, feeling a strange feeling of sadness wash over you. It was as if you were watching a movie you already knew the ending to, and all that was left in your gut was a sinking dread at what was about to come.

As the clerk flipped through the footage, a faint sound pricked at your ears, and you jerked your head up, listening to make sure you had heard right — and sure enough, there it was. Muffled shouting, like it was coming from another room in the house, something heavy shattering on the floor — and judging from the murmurs and faces of the spectators around you, they heard it as well. The camcorder was still pointed at the action figurines, but had frozen stiffly — as if the child holding it was listening, too. 

More scenes began to unfold, one after another. A birthday, six lopsided candles glowing on a small white cake. Jisung humming a familiar tune with a woman you assumed was his mother. And clip after clip where the camcorder was pointed at the ceiling of a dark room — Jisung’s childhood bedroom — as the sounds of arguing and yelling echoed through the walls. Slowly but surely, the scenes began to grow familiar. 

“February 22nd, 2005.”

The day Jisung had stumbled across another woman in his parents’ bed, and his father had terrorized him until he promised not to tell anyone.

“June 3rd, 2006.”

His face-to-face encounter with his father’s mistress, one that left scars in the form of cigarette burns, red-lipped smiles, and tainted touches.

“December 31st, 2009.”

The day everything had gone wrong.

Stomach lurching, you watched as everything Jisung had told you — his rough voice shaking in your darkened apartment, dark eyes holding nightmares of years long past — took the form of grainy camera footage. His father crashing through the doorframe, hands choking the life from the woman beneath him. Even though the camera quality was poor, the woman’s pleading eyes, rolled up towards the tiny crack in the closet where Jisung had been hidden, seemed to pierce directly through you. 

It all seemed to happen in a flash — in the blink of an eye, there were flames licking bloodstained floors clean, the camcorder out of focus as Jisung limped through thick white snow and finally collapsed on top of his mother’s cold body. The gritty screams of anguish and pain seemed to ring in your ears long after Seungmin stopped the footage, and you lifted a shaking gaze to Jisung’s face. His eyes had been cast downwards the entire time, but even from across the room, you could see his violently trembling jaw, the ragged heave of his chest. How many times had he lived through this footage himself — in his nightmares, through half-delirious flashbacks, every time he closed his eyes?

“Thirteen years ago, there was a massive fire on the outskirts of Miroh Heights. The Han house was burned to the ground and left a single boy alive, without any relatives to take custody. Unable to fathom what exactly happened, police filed it away as a gas explosion, and the boy was tossed around foster homes and orphanages until it was eventually forgotten,” Seungmin informed them. He thanked Woojin internally as he spoke — after mentioning several times that Jisung’s past sounded strangely familiar, the police captain had been the one to finally connect the dots between the two cold cases, thirteen years apart.

“There were initial speculations of domestic abuse, but they were never investigated thoroughly. The case was neglected, left cold, and when the statute of limitations expired, it was simply dismissed as another tragedy.” Seungmin nodded at the clerk again, who slid the next memory card in.

This card was filled with what sounded like endless psychological evaluations — disembodied voices introducing themselves as social workers, child psychiatrists, and the like, all mercilessly bombarding Jisung with personal questions. The first half was either entirely black or out of focus, as if Jisung had been holding the camcorder down and clutching it close to his body. They had all given up when the young boy could barely get his answers out, the lingering fear and untreated trauma having locked his voice in his throat. 

“He’s a lost cause.”

“Problem kid.”

“Impossible to treat.”

You clenched your fists every time a social worker left the room, muttering under their breath in annoyance. Then, as the clips grew clearer, a child with round, catlike eyes and a pale expression beginning to appear in several of the frames.

Lee Minho. 

“At the beginning of this decade, we all know that Miroh Heights went through an economic rift — workers were laid off, young children abandoned on the streets. During these times, child abuse and child trafficking cases also skyrocketed.” Seungmin spoke as the screen flashed, the scene now showing what looked like a filthy, unfinished basement floor.

“We witnessed a rise of ‘suicide killers’ — namely, perpetrators who would kidnap and murder their own family members or vulnerable strangers before ending their own lives. Many were acting on their anger and grief through violence; others saw it as a form of revenge.” 

With a wince, you remembered what Minho had told you on the rooftop of the hospital that evening — when he and Jisung had been lured into a man’s home by their own hunger, and woke up to him trying to kill them. The sound of approaching footsteps filled the speakers, the camcorder pointed at an awkward angle and shaking uncontrollably before it clattered to the ground, and the footage cut out.

When the next clip began, it was pointed down at wide-eyed, twelve-year-old Jisung.

“Ah, now this is jus’ perfect. The cops’ll love this, yes they will.” You shivered at the man’s hoarse voice behind the camcorder, flinching as the barrel of a gun was pressed to Jisung’s forehead. “Now, boy — I want you to beg for your life — go on.”

Frozen in your seat, you watched as all hell broke loose — the man pressing the trigger just as Jisung managed to cut the cords free, the camcorder smashing into concrete as Jisung fought for his life. When the lens finally focused again, what you saw made your blood run cold. A twelve-year-old boy kneeling before the mangled corpse of a grown man, cherub-like face drenched with crimson. You heard Minho’s shallow, terrified breathing behind the camcorder as Jisung turned towards him, the look in his eyes sending an icy chill down your spine. It was the exact same look he had given you when you had found him at the diner, screaming out his name as if trying to wake him from a nightmare. 

Emptiness.

Even through the grainy film, you could catch the moment Jisung’s consciousness returned to him, soft brown eyes shifting and focusing into a childlike, dazed expression once again. 

“Minho, can we go home?”

The footage sputtered to a stop. The visceral scene had been exactly as the coroner had described to you on the hospital rooftop, and yet nothing could have prepared you for it. You only realised how badly you had been shaking when Felix gently nudged you, peering at your face worriedly. When you forced yourself to unclench your fists, you winced at the red half-moon weals your nails had left in your palms.

“Both the defendant and coroner Lee Minho were involved in a kidnapping case, and subjected to extreme violence at the ages of twelve and thirteen. The perpetrator died in the incident. There was no culprit to catch. Once again, the case was buried, under the economic turmoil Miroh Heights was experiencing, by neglectful law enforcement.” 

Seungmin turned back to look at the psychiatrist. “Now, I’m no expert in analysing family matters, but I think we can confirm several cases of domestic abuse from this footage alone. Parental neglect. Repeated exposure to violence. Years of sexual harassment. How would you psychoanalyse a patient who has gone through these events?”

The red-faced man was evidently shaken, wiping the sweat from his brow as he stuttered out, “This — this is more than enough to cause severe cases of post-traumatic stress disorder.” His eyes darted around the courtroom nervously, as if the words were refusing to come out of his mouth. 

“He looks like he’s scared,” you murmured. “Like he’s still unwilling to talk.”

“Kang must have made some sort of a deal with him,” Woojin replied under his breath, shaking his head. “But it’s all over now — he’s got nothing more to lose.”

“You swore an oath before the trial began,” Seungmin pressed sternly, not taking his gaze off the nervous man. “‘I do solemnly declare that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.’ Tell me the truth, sir.”

Cowering under Seungmin’s hard gaze, the psychiatrist finally caved. “The...the fact that these events took place during the defendant’s childhood is even more significant. Children’s minds are—are molded from a very young age. The majority of your adult behaviour is shaped by what you’ve experienced as a child, you see.”

“Earlier, you mentioned the possibility of sociopathy. You reached this conclusion because of the defendant’s criminal records, and reported behaviour such as —” Seungmin pulled out Kang’s papers, quickly flipping through. “Theft. Pyromanic, destructive, and self-destructive tendencies.” He raised an eyebrow at the boys from the diner attack. “Bordering on multiple personas.”

“U-uh, well — using the information given during the previous trial, those symptoms did correlate strongly with antisocial personality disorder. But with this newfound context —” the psychiatrist lowered his head meekly, “th-the symptoms are actually closer to those of an individual suffering from extreme, untreated, PTSD.”

Exhaling slowly, Seungmin nodded at the judge. “Post-traumatic stress disorder. Let’s re-examine the defendant’s behaviour under this lens, then. How would PTSD explain violent tendencies in a child?”

“They’re a form of an exaggerated startle response — a sudden reaction triggered by something that upsets the patient. It’s a common long-term aftereffect of childhood abuse or trauma. Some patients fall unconscious, some experience panic attacks or seizures. In the case of Han Jisung...it came in the form of repeated violent outbursts.”

You thought back to the man Jisung had attacked, seemingly out of nowhere at the Yellow Wood — the dead man whose girlfriend, Chan had told you, had actually come to the precinct a few days before Jisung’s trial.

“She was crying real bad. I thought she would want him—Jisung—dead, that she would tell us to convict him, no matter what,” Chan had told you, the detective’s face still twisted in confusion. “And she doesn’t want to testify — she’s still dealing with the trauma, and doesn’t want anything to do with the trial. But y/n — the girl was crying for him. For Jisung. Said that the kid stepped in right when her boyfriend was hitting her, and — told her to go home.”

An exaggerated startle response. You remembered it from your classes, a sudden reaction triggered by something that upset the patient. Like domestic abuse. Unsolicited sexual approaches. Or, you shivered, little things — like the colour red. His father, his mistress, his mother, his kidnapper — did Jisung constantly see their faces in the shadows, in strangers that were repeating the same mistakes?

“The witnesses who knew Han Jisung when he was younger,” Seungmin continued, turning to the two injured boys from the diner, “also testified that he often changed expressions ‘like a mask.’ Assuming this is true, why might the defendant exhibit this sort of behaviour?”

“Abused children — or people who have experienced severe trauma — can develop dissociative habits. Disconnecting from past memories, information, or even present experiences as a defense mechanism...which is why the defendant might appear to change moods often, or show drastically different sides of himself in different situations.”

“In other words,” Seungmin said slowly, brow furrowing in concentration, “the defendant experienced so many traumatic events during his childhood, that the untreated aftereffects impaired his emotional development into adulthood. Which would explain why his startle response slowly morphed, on a larger scale, into something extremely violent and dangerous.”

The psychiatrist looked weary and defeated. “Correct.”

Motioning for the man to take a seat — which he did gladly — Seungmin pulled out the next envelope — the coroner’s photos from the Yellow Wood attacks. Wordlessly, he projected them onto the screen, eliciting small gasps of horror and disgust around the room. 

“Earlier, Prosecutor Kang argued that the violent mutilation of the victims was proof that the perpetrator performed these gruesome acts and mutilations out of personal enjoyment and depravity.” Seungmin turned to address the judge, voice firm. 

“Your Honour, under this new context, I would argue that the photos only serve as further visual evidence depicting the defendant’s mental state at the time of the crime.” He flipped through the images. “Multiple wound sites, messy blood spattering, extreme blunt force trauma. And—if the coroner was telling the truth—a stone from the scene of the crime as the murder weapon. All these signs lead us to believe that the defendant’s actions, no, his judgement, was acutely impaired. This response, these attacks, were triggered due to a pre-existing mental condition.”

The room shifted uneasily as his words sunk in, and the judge fixed her stern gaze onto Seungmin. “Does the prosecution have any evidence that directly refutes the previous claim of first degree murder? To prove that the murders were not premeditated, or intentional, beyond a reasonable doubt?”

Think, Seungmin, think. He racked his mind furiously, trying to recall every piece of evidence that you, Chan, and Woojin had gone through with him. Photographs, diagrams, testimony transcripts — Seungmin’s eyes trailed off to the pile of envelopes the clerk had brought, and landed on the packet containing Yang Jeongin’s tapes.

That’s it.

“Yes, Your Honour.” He cleared his throat, mind racing to connect the dots. “As we all know, the living witness of the Yellow Wood attacks, Yang Jeongin, was attacked at around three o’clock in the morning. He worked several late shifts for delivery companies around the town.” Seungmin nodded towards Jeongin. “What we did not know until recently, however, is that the witness had a hobby of recording himself during these shifts on his own Walkman.”

An alarmed murmur rippled through the crowd as Seungmin shook the tapes out from the envelope, handing them to the clerk. After several tense moments, there was a faint crackling, and the recording began to play.

The first tape held a medley of acoustic songs the delivery boy had mixed himself — just as you had remembered it.

The second tape was empty — the one Minho had stolen from the scene of the crime, and you had eventually recovered from his office.

When the clerk popped in the third, the soft sound of breathing and crunching gravel filled the room, and you shivered. This was the tape you had listened to with Seo Changbin — the tape that had turned your entire life upside down.

“I.N. here! It is currently...2:04 A.M.!”

You glanced at the faces around the room — everyone was on edge, and you felt no different. You could still hear Jeongin’s cry of surprise and pain echoing in your ears, the horrible crash as he hit the forest floor. What was Seungmin thinking? How was a recording of the witness being attacked going to prove Jisung’s innocence? If anything, it was incriminating evidence.

Jeongin’s cheery, oblivious voice continued until you heard the woman’s scream in the distance, muffled under the delivery boy’s distracted humming. Then, a man crying out in guttural pain — the man, you knew now, that had been killed by Jisung in the Yellow Wood. The sounds of leaves crunching and branches snapping under the bicycle wheels grew louder, and you knew that this had been the moment Jeongin had entered the Wood — heading closer and closer towards what would later become the scene of the crime. 

“Hello? Is everything okay over there?” There was a small gasp of horror as Jeongin caught sight of the body. “U-um. Is he—do you need help? I can call an ambulance. What hap—” 

It happened before you could flinch to cover your ears. The horribly familiar crunch of stone meeting skull, a cry of pain cut off by a deafening whump as the Walkman had slammed against the ground. The entire courtroom seemed to hold its breath as it listened, and only then did it finally hit you why Seungmin was playing the tapes. As the sound of another boy’s jagged, uneven breathing filled the speakers, you suddenly remembered what came at the end of the recording. The first time you had heard it, it had made your heart plummet straight down into the pit of your stomach, sending your entire world crashing down around you. 

This time, the fluttering in your chest felt almost like hope.

Han Jisung’s voice, choked with raw, horrified sobs, echoed through the room, and you saw everyone freeze.

“Who—why? Why is it you? Why are you here?” 

The crying was muffled by the sound of hands fumbling over Jeongin’s clothing, as if frantically checking for a pulse. Seungmin stopped the tape, turning towards the bewildered jury. “Do those sound like the words of a cold-blooded psychopath?”

The judge waved a hand towards Jeongin. “Can the witness himself attest to this?”

“I...I blacked out pretty quickly,” Jeongin answered slowly, furrowing his brow as if it still hurt to remember. “But the last thing I remembered seeing was...a boy’s crying face over me, trying to make sure if I was okay.”

“Can you identify this boy?”

Nodding, Jeongin pointed to Jisung.

“Furthermore,” Seungmin continued, tapping the cracked silver Walkman, “these tapes were found in Yang Jeongin’s clothing after he was admitted to the hospital. If the defendant had truly attacked Mr. Yang out of cold blood, he wouldn’t have left such incriminating evidence in the boy’s hands. And if Han Jisung had no idea he was being recorded, that rules out the possibility of him faking the recordings as well.”

“Even so,” the judge replied, stern eyes narrowed, “we cannot be sure that Han Jisung did not intend to leave Yang Jeongin to die. There are many murder cases where the perpetrator shows remorse almost immediately, but still attempted to cover up the crime.”

“Of course. However, Your Honour, you may also remember that Yang Jeongin was not found in the Yellow Wood where the attacks had initially taken place...but rather, the doorstep of Glow Cafe.” At this, Hyunjin looked up, eyes narrowed, and Seungmin motioned for the clerk to continue playing the clip. After several moments, you heard the rough sound of cloth scraping against the ground, growing louder and louder — as if something was being lifted and dragged. 

No. You could still hear Jisung’s broken breathing underneath the sound, and the realisation hit you.

Jisung was carrying Jeongin’s body.

You had thought the tape had already ended the first time you’d listened with Seo Changbin in his record shop — after Jisung’s voice had made you shove the Walkman away, not daring to believe what you had just heard. For days, it had sat, neglected in your apartment, until you had brought it into Seungmin’s office for him to look at. The next day, it had already fallen into the hands of Prosecutor Kang, but by some stroke of luck, Seungmin must have already managed to listen to it in its entirety beforehand.

“Yang Jeongin was found at around 4 in the morning, when Hwang Hyunjin, the owner of Glow Cafe, was awoken by the doorbell. The ringer of this doorbell was never identified, because any possible fingerprint evidence was already contaminated and rendered useless by the time Mr. Yang was safely transported to the ICU.”

The sound of dead leaves and dirt crunching under the soles of Jisung’s shoes gave way to hard concrete as he reached the main road. There was a soft thump as Jeongin was lowered onto the ground, Jisung’s laboured breathing filling the still night air.

Then the familiar chime of Glow Cafe’s doorbell pierced through the speakers, and you watched as Hyunjin jolted up, mouth falling open in disbelief.

“Yes. It’s exactly what you’re all thinking.” Seungmin turned to face the stunned spectators as the sound of Jisung’s footsteps grew fainter as he ran away, and the tape ended. “The defendant was the same person who saved him.”

The judge cleared her throat unsteadily, grim eyes flickering between Seungmin and Jisung. “Does the defense have anything to say to this?”

For the first time since the trial had started, Jisung lifted his head. He was met with a roomful of mixed stares — apprehension, curiosity, fear — and he felt his tongue immediately dissolve into dust, the words sticking to his throat like congealed poison.

When Jisung stayed silent, Seungmin spoke carefully, “A fair trial wouldn’t be complete without hearing from the defendant himself. In his own words.” His eyes were almost gentle, fixing a steady look on Jisung’s dark, wary face. “Would you like to testify?”

Your heart was hammering in your throat as the silence grew thicker and thicker. After what felt like an eternity, it was finally broken by the creak of the chair as Jisung pushed it back and stood up. To your utter surprise, he stepped up to the middle of the room, wordlessly turning to face Seungmin. Still, the look on his face held the same blank, guarded expression you had seen so many times when your sessions with him had taken a turn for the worse, and you gripped the edge of your seat uneasily, having no idea what to expect from this turn of events.

If Seungmin was as surprised as you were, he did a better job at hiding it. He muttered something to the clerk, who began to project familiar faces and photos onto the screen. The victims, you realised, and the crime scenes. A slim woman in her thirties, her thin lips a smudge of bright red, next to a photo of charred blood and bone. The prostitute.

“Do you recognise this woman?” Seungmin asked, pointing to her picture.

Jisung frowned, furrowing his brow at the picture. Something seemed to stir in the back of his mind, but there was a dull throbbing in his temples that made it difficult to focus. “I—I’m not sure.” 

Someone in the crowd made an unconvinced sound, and Jisung shrunk back. The pictures went on and on — a corpse mangled with chemical burns, a man’s body swinging from the rooftop, a bashed-in skull on the forest floor. Each image made Jisung’s head pound, the floor beginning to spin as if threatening to split open beneath his feet and swallow him whole. Did he recognise them? Glimpses of their faces flashed in the back of his mind like jumbled jigsaw pieces, but the more he tried to grab onto them, the more they fell apart. His fingertips tingled with the faint, itching memory of a stranger’s blood — strangers who, in a fleeting moment, had taken the shape of a former tormentor. Father. Mistress. Hurt. Pain. 

“I can’t — remember anything,” Jisung choked hoarsely. He remembered blacking out, and waking up. He remembered his nightmares, his flashbacks. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember the faces staring back at him from the screen. 

You sound insane, a voice in the back of his mind hissed. As he met the eyes of the jury, he could almost hear what they were thinking. 

You really are a psychopath. 

Sensing the doubtful whispering beginning around the room, Seungmin hurriedly moved onto the next question. “Let’s — let’s go back to the psychiatrist’s statements, then. Mr. Han, could you tell me what it was like growing up in your family?”

His question was met with silence again, Jisung screwing his eyes shut as the prosecutor’s voice echoed in his head. Family. It was a word that brought ugly memories bubbling to the surface every time, memories made of broken beer bottles and pale, bruised cheeks. His head was aching, a cold sweat forming in his palms as he clenched his fists, stomach churning. No. No. He couldn’t talk about it — wouldn’t talk about it — 

“Can you...tell me about your mother’s eyes?”

The abrupt, familiar question, carried by the prosecutor’s softened voice, was what made Jisung open his eyes again, the trembling in his hands stilling. The room around them was shifting with confused murmurs at the strange question, but Seungmin didn’t break eye contact with the younger boy. 

The prosecutor watched Jisung’s fists slowly unclench, brow furrowing slightly as he recognised the question, and Seungmin thought back to the conversation he had had with you over the phone after you had woken up in the hospital.

“What’s this?”

“A psychiatric analysis — on Jisung,” you explained, referring to the report files you had sent the prosecutor. “I know it’s not — not much, but...”

“For all we know, it might be the only existing verbal testimony that Jisung has,” Seungmin assured you. “From what I’ve heard, he’s never opened up to anyone before. What I meant was, why are you sending it to me?”

You bit your lip. “Chan isn’t allowed to stand trial, and I — I haven’t graduated yet, so my thesis won’t be taken seriously as evidence. I can’t testify as a psychiatric expert, either. But I thought that — I could at least tell you all the questions that lead me to his diagnosis. In case you get to question him at the trial — he’ll know they’re my questions. Maybe...he’ll finally change his mind.”

Seungmin sighed wearily. “I was removed from the case this morning, Miss l/n. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to step foot into the courtroom, let alone question him.”

And so the questions had been left, buried and forgotten in the back of Seungmin’s mind — until this exact moment, when he had remembered them just in time. 

What comes to mind when you think about your mother’s eyes?

Jisung’s vision went black as his senses were flooded with memories, nearly sending him doubling over. His mother’s eyes. The last time he had looked into those eyes, they had already been glazing over, the life in them seeping away as her blood pooled over the broken floorboards of his childhood home. His mother’s eyes. Suddenly, it was as if he was ten years old all over again, shrouded in the shadows of a cramped closet as his father strangled the life out of his mother right in front of him. 

Guilt, he wanted to say. Pain. The kind that never goes away. Blinking feverishly, Jisung’s gaze darted around the room — and when he finally found your face in the audience, he felt his heart stop.

You were looking at him with the exact same eyes his mother had, that day. 

From your first date to this very moment, Jisung never knew why you had always reminded him so much of her — you two looked nothing alike, after all. Wherever he went, he had always been chased by fragments of the nightmares he wanted to forget, demons of his past that had taken the forms of the man at the Yellow Wood, the red-lipped hooker, Na Jangmin, Park Beomsoo. And yet every moment he spent with you, he caught familiar glimpses of her instead — pieces of the only warmth, and happiness, and home he had ever known before it had all been cruelly ripped away.

For years, the only thing he had been able to remember was that day. How his mother’s eyes had been wide and pleading as she bled out on the floor, desperately shaking her head at him before finally falling limp. The flames and endless smoke seemed to eat away at his happier memories until there was nothing left but ashes and tar. 

But you made him remember a time before everything went wrong, when things had been peaceful, when he still had somewhere — someone — to go home to.

For thirteen years, he had been running from the memory, from the feeling, afraid that confronting it would make him relive the pain all over again. But now, for the first time, Han Jisung wondered if he had missed something else among those repressed memories all along.

His mother’s eyes as she shook her head one last time had been warm, not just because they had been filled with pain and tears — but because they had been blazing with one last, unspoken message. The same one he saw reflected in your own eyes now.

When you shook your own head gently, pleading eyes brimming with tears, the message finally rang clear in his mind.

Don’t blame yourself for what happened. Han Jisung, you have to keep on living.

Stunned, he tore his gaze away, only to see Bang Chan watching him with the same expression — then Woojin, Seungmin, Felix, Yang Jeongin. Even Hwang Hyunjin had worry written all over his face — worry for him — and it all suddenly hit Jisung like a punch in the gut.

Why did all these people fight for him?

Why had his mother died for him?

What comes to mind when you think about your mother’s eyes?

“Love,” Jisung breathed, his soft voice filling the empty silence. “Love.” The memories were coming back to him now — not in jagged, gut-wrenching flashes, but slowly. Steadily.

For the first time in his life, Han Jisung was in control.

“Can you tell me about your parents?” Seungmin pressed gently, seeing the tension slowly leave Jisung’s body.

“My parents,” Jisung repeated. His mouth felt like it was trying the words out. He remembered once, when you had asked him the same question, his head had felt like it was on the verge of splitting. Now, the memories felt strangely detached, as if he were telling someone else’s story. “They were happy once, or at least that’s what I’ve heard.” He paused. “My...father...never wanted to get married. They never planned to...have me, but my mother refused an abortion. They — it was a shotgun wedding,” Jisung finished quietly. “And then things got worse from there.”

“What was it like growing up in your family?” Seungmin tried the question again, watching Jisung carefully.

“My old man’s favourite thing to tell me growing up was how I was never wanted,” Jisung gave a weak smile. “I think you can imagine.”

You watched as Seungmin continued asking Jisung your questions, as if slowly coaxing the answers out from the darkness and painting the cold courtroom with the scenes of Jisung’s past.

“My mother was a waitress. The work was tough, but it didn’t pay much. My father convinced her to work more shifts, so that she was around as little as possible. During that time, he…” Jisung swallowed hard. “He had his affairs with other women when she wasn’t home, and beat her bloody when she was. She always tried to hide it from me, too — said the less I knew the better, but I was getting older, and my father’s anger was slowly shifting over to me. And when his...mistresses stayed over, they started noticing me, too.” Jisung fell silent then, and you suddenly thought back to the white burn scars on his arms and legs, the numerous unexplained markings on his stomach bringing tears to your eyes. How many more did he have hidden on his body, painful reminders binding him to a past he tried so hard to forget?

“Your Honour,” Seungmin finally broke the hushed silence, “with all the information taken into consideration, I think we can confirm beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant has witnessed numerous traumatic events during his childhood — and that they more than likely worsened his mental condition as he grew older.” Seungmin turned to Jisung, remembering another question you had written in your report. “How...do you cope with the past?” 

Jisung was silent for several moments before answering, his words echoing your last therapy session. “I...don’t….like to think about it, or remember it. Every time I do, I…” he trailed off unsteadily, and he tried again. “E-every time, I...I…”

His throat was closing up again, the words echoing in his mind as if mocking him. How was he supposed to explain the headaches that never truly went away, the dizziness that hit him like a punch in the gut? Or, worse, the gaps in his memories when he blacked out, making him feel as though he were slowly going insane?

Stay silent, whispered a voice in the back of his head. Who will understand you? Who will believe you? He looked back at the roomful of faces, their cold, wary stares piercing through him like knives. You were never meant to live. You should have died on that day, thirteen years ago— 

“Han Jisung, you are such an idiot.” 

The sudden memory of your voice cut through his thoughts and made him jolt in surprise— but it didn’t stop there, all the things you had once told him slowly growing louder and louder and jarring him awake from his own thoughts.

“You’re not the psychopath they’re making you out to be. I know you.”

He remembered the way you had relaxed and fallen asleep in his arms, even after you had found out they were stained with blood, because you trusted him completely.

“I don’t want you to show me. I want you to tell me. I want to hear it from you, in your own words, Jisung.”

He remembered your face every time he had tried to tell you about his past — your soft, patient eyes and gentle voice, the worry and genuine concern on your face that he had always mistaken for repulsion and fear. You had been shaken, definitely, terrified, even — but you had always been willing to listen to him speak, even when Jisung had been too afraid to try.

“I like you, Han Jisung. I. Like. You.”

He met your eyes across the room then, and felt a small, incredulous breath leave his lips. It was you — it was always you, who had the power to make the walls he had built around himself crumble to dust with a single touch; you, pulling him out of the darkness he had always succumbed helplessly to; you, who had finally woken him from the living nightmare he had been trapped in his entire life. 

You reminded him what it was like to live again. You made him want to live again, without fears, without regrets.

“Mr. Han? Could you please describe how these memories make you feel? How you usually deal with them?”

“I don’t know how to,” Jisung breathed out at last. “Every time I try to remember, my...heart starts racing like my chest is about to burst. My head pounds until I can’t see anything, and — it’s like something in there...snaps. And then I...black out completely.” 

Seungmin nodded, glancing back to the nervous, red-faced man. “Do you have...anything to add or deny regarding the psychiatrist’s diagnoses?”

“You were right,” Jisung replied simply, but he wasn’t talking to the psychiatrist. He was looking straight at you, and to his own surprise, a smile tugged at his dry lips. It felt like the simple sentence had somehow set him free. “I have trouble sleeping, because I always end up having the same nightmares. There’s missing blank spots in my memories when I wake up in a place I don’t recognise, with no idea how I got there.”

Jisung watched as your eyes widened, recognising his words — he was echoing the same symptoms you had confronted him about during your last therapy session, the ones he had coldly denied out of panic and fear. “I’ve always been afraid to let people get close to me. But sometimes, there are things that — that remind me of times that I’d rather forget, and before I know it, everything begins to spiral out of control.” He gave a small smile to Seungmin, who had stayed silent, surprised at Jisung’s sudden honesty. “That’s it, then. The whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”

You watched as Jisung’s eyes flickered around the room, face as open and tranquil as a child’s — and that was what nearly broke your heart. Knowing that somewhere, beneath the prison uniform that was too baggy for his lean, tired frame, was the shell of a child the world had failed, a child that had given up asking to be saved.

“No further questions,” Seungmin said quietly, and Jisung walked back to his seat as the young prosecutor turned to face the judge. “Your Honour,” he began slowly, as if momentarily unable to find the words. “I think we have reason to believe that the attacks were provoked — not exactly by the victims themselves, but from past traumas that were never dealt with properly, and triggered again and again until they spiralled out of control.”

Seungmin raised his voice then, for the entire courtroom to hear, forcing his voice to remain steady despite the fluttering nerves in his body. “The scattered killing patterns were never planned. The correlations between the victims and causes of death don’t show a serial killer’s M.O., they show triggers.” He took a shaky breath. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, this isn’t a serial killer case. It isn’t the case of a psychopath on some nonsensical, murderous rampage. This is the aftereffect of a domestic violence case gone cold and swept under the rug over a decade ago — and we can’t afford to let it slip away again.”

The judge fixed Seungmin with a cold, steely look over her glasses. “Prosecutor Kim. Remember that you cannot — should not — let your emotions get in the way in a court of law. You are supposed to assess the case with cold reasoning and logic.”

Seungmin looked down, heart hammering in his throat. The Kim Seungmin he knew would have been ashamed, and apologised immediately. The Kim Seungmin he knew would have thought he was crazy for crossing the line.

He realised, in that moment, that he hated the old Kim Seungmin with a passion.

“Emotions don’t always get in the way,” he found himself saying, eyes flickering to you in the audience, “and they don’t always make you weak.” Seungmin thought of Prosecutor Kang then, and his voice grew stronger. “If anything, they keep you human.”

He looked back up at the judge now, whose face had frozen in surprise. “When did justice become so cold? We’re taught that the law is supposed to protect the vulnerable, not prosecute them.”

The judge looked visibly shaken, mouth opening and closing wordlessly as her eyes darted wildly between Seungmin and Jisung. Finally, with an unfathomable expression on her face, she turned towards the jury, clearing her throat unsteadily. 

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, that concludes the evidence to be presented on this case. You are now to deliberate, and determine whether or not Han Jisung is guilty of nineteen counts of first-degree murder, assault, and arson. 

“If you believe that this has been proved beyond a reasonable doubt, then you should find the defendant guilty, and eligible for capital punishment.”

Capital punishment, you thought, the words sweeping a breath of cold across the room. The death penalty.

“The court stands adjourned until the verdict of the jury.”

━━━━━━━━

Over an hour had passed since the jury had stepped into the deliberation suite, and each tick of the clock on the wall made you more and more nauseous. You put your head down, hands buried in your hair as if that could calm the anxiety thrumming through your veins. A few times, you had heard shouting and angry, raised voices coming from the room the jury was in. Each passing minute seemed to make the weight of the situation more obvious, the tension in the courtroom thick and suffocating.

Felix was rubbing your back as soothingly as he could. “y/n, hey, look at me — deep breaths, okay? You’re okay—”

He was cut off when you lifted your head to look at him, cursing the tears already welling in your eyes. You hated feeling this way — you felt so weak and powerless, and just imagining how much of a mess you must have looked made it even worse. You promised yourself you would stay calm, but every thought that crossed your mind kept leading to another until you were exhausted and overwhelmed.

“They could walk out any minute, ‘lix,” you told him, voice wavering as the weight of your own words sunk in. “They could walk out any minute, and end his life.”

You couldn’t even say Jisung’s name out loud, let alone look him in the eyes. Felix watched as you wiped furiously at your own tears, the sight of you so distressed rendering him speechless, and he did the only thing he could think of. Grimly, your best friend pulled you into a hug, and his reassuring warmth in the cold courtroom made you want to break down all over again. Around you, you could hear mixed opinions being exchanged.

“That poor boy.”

“Who could have guessed the case would take a turn like this? But do you believe him?”

“A murderer is still a murderer — he’s too dangerous to be left alive, don’t you think?”

You were beginning to wish you had taken Hyunjin and Woojin’s offer to step out of the room for fresh air when the heavy doors swung open, making a hush fall over the room. The jury filed in just as Hyunjin and the police captain returned and took their seats.

“Order in the court,” the clerk called, and the judge cleared her throat.

“Has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?”

The forewoman nodded grimly. “Yes, Your Honour.”

“Those in favour of sentencing the accused, Han Jisung, to capital punishment, please rise.”

The words sent an icy shock down your spine, the entire room seeming to hold its breath as they watched the jury. You didn’t dare move, as if by doing so, you could prevent the next moments from coming crashing down on you, as if somehow, you could stop the horrible verdict from coming true. It was as if everyone had frozen still, time stopping for what felt like the longest moment of your life.

The ticking of the clock pricked your ears, and you suddenly realised that time hadn’t stopped. 

No one in the jury had moved to stand up.

“The jury returns a verdict of not guilty, despite believing that the accused committed the crimes he is charged with,” the forewoman standing at the front of the jury said, and the members behind her nodded. “This verdict was unanimous.”

“They all agree that Jisung killed those people,” you heard Hyunjin’s stunned voice behind you, “but they’re returning a verdict of not guilty? What does that mean?”

“Jury nullification,” both Chan and Seungmin spoke at the same time, and the room turned to look at the younger prosecutor as he spoke up. 

“The jury has the right to overturn the law, if they believe the law was used incorrectly—”

A reporter behind you blurted out angrily, “Are you suggesting that the murders were delusional, Prosecutor Kim?”

“Or,” Seungmin continued, his voice growing stronger than ever before as he saw the eyes of the judge and his coworkers widen in disbelief. I must be insane, he thought, but he couldn’t stop the words coming from his mouth. “Or, the jury disagrees with the law the prosecution has chosen to charge the defendant under.” He picked up Prosecutor Kang’s case file from the desk, flipping over the papers. “First degree murder.”

The forewoman nodded. “The law Han Jisung is being tried with was immorally and wrongly applied to him in the first place. We believe he caused the killings, without a doubt, but with the circumstances presented, we cannot convict him of serial first degree murder.”

“The previous prosecutor claimed these charges without making any effort to consider Han Jisung’s past,” one man on the jury added, “All the evidence proves a history of abuse and trauma that lead to an unstable mental condition.”

Their words sounded strangely familiar, and your eyes immediately widened when you realised why. “Those — those are the words from my psych report,” you whispered breathlessly to Felix, “Quoted, word for word. They must have all read your articles — we did it, ‘lix, it really worked.”

“But murder is murder. He should be held accountable,” a spectator protested across the room. He was immediately silenced by the bailiff, but not before Seungmin turned to him with a steady stare.

“‘Murder is murder’,” Seungmin echoed, “‘The world of law is cold.’ ‘The law is harsh, but it is the law.’  Those are the phrases you always hear in court. And those are the same beliefs that cost vulnerable people their lives.”

Hyunjin looked at Jeongin, whose gaze were cast to the floor, eyes stormy. 

Seungmin continued, “You lose your empathy, and mark complex cases like these under ‘mass murderer’, or ‘psychopath’ without bothering to truly investigate the gray areas, because you think doing so would be—” his mind flashed to Kang, “a waste of time.” He looked at Jisung now, a boy who had been confined by labels his entire life: problem child, delinquent, murderer, monster. “Han Jisung is worth more than that. There’s more to him than his past, than his abusers, than the mental torment he’s suffered through for years.

“He’s a boy who never got the chance at life he deserved. The system has failed him once, and we cannot — should not — hold his trial like this.” Seungmin turned to the judge one last time, eyes burning with sincerity. “Your Honour. Will you end this vicious cycle of use and abuse, once and for all? Or will you choose, once again, to sweep it back into the shadows?”

She was staring back at him with a look that should have petrified Seungmin on the spot, but he swallowed hard, forcing himself to stand his ground. There was a long, weighted silence. Finally, the judge shook her head slowly, and Seungmin swore he saw the smallest of smiles tug at her taut mouth as she turned to face the rest of the courtroom. 

You felt your heart nearly leap out of your throat when the verdict finally fell from the judge’s lips.

“I hereby pronounce Han Jisung...not guilty.”

If you hadn’t been sitting down, you were sure you would have collapsed onto the floor.

The world was spinning around you, the sheer relief washing over you in overwhelming waves and turning your limbs to jelly. In your peripheral vision, you saw Hyunjin’s mouth drop open in astonishment, Felix turning to you with an incredulous smile on his face, Chan and Woojin completely frozen. 

You barely registered the judge’s voice as she continued speaking, the rest of her words passing through you as if you were made of thin air. Pardoned on the death of his father and the arson of his childhood home by reason of self-defense. Regarding the Miroh Heights killings, the defendant was unable to understand the significance of his criminal actions due to a pre-existing mental condition. He is acquitted from the death penalty, and will serve no prison time.

However, he will be transferred to a psychiatric institution and closely monitored for the time being. The suitable amount of time he is to spend there will be prescribed on a later date after the case is properly re-examined...

People were talking around you, one of your friends was calling your name, and you swore you even heard a few people clapping, but you weren’t listening anymore. There was only one other person on your mind.

When your eyes found Jisung’s face, he was looking straight at you — with the same look in his eyes that had given you butterflies the first time you met him, and the same look in his eyes you had seen before you had fallen unconscious, bleeding out in his arms.

He was looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

━━━━━━━━

“You had some nerve back there, Prosecutor Kim.”

The courtroom had been emptied out, and Seungmin had been collecting his files and notes when he heard a voice from behind him. At first, he thought he had misheard — people were buzzing outside in the lobby, the commotion so loud it seemed to be humming through the walls — but he turned around, and saw the judge walking up to him.

Bits and pieces of the trial came back to him, and Seungmin cringed inwardly as he met her hard gaze. Just how many lines had he crossed? Years of being careful, meticulous, completely down the drain— 

“You had some nerve back there,” she repeated, and Seungmin lowered his eyes. He heard her sigh deeply. “But you’re a fine prosecutor, Kim.”

Stunned, Seungmin raised his head, and realised with a start that she was smiling at him. “I haven’t seen your kind in a while. It was refreshing, to say the least, and it puts me at ease to know that this field still has people like you.”

She tucked her glasses into her robes, turning to leave.

“Never change, Prosecutor Kim.”

━━━━━━━━

“Prosecutor Kang, look this way!”

Kang was blinded by flashing cameras the moment he stepped out from the holding cell. The older prosecutor’s eyes were dark as he was pushed through the mob of reporters and citizens, the guards flanking him making no effort to be gentle.

“Is it true you hid crucial evidence from your own prosecution?”

“Did you bribe your own witnesses?”

“How many other cases have you tampered with?”

“None!” Kang snarled at the reporter, desperation rising in his throat like bile. “Lies—I’ve never wrongfully convicted a single person. These are all—” 

“You’re the liar.”

The crowd stopped, turning towards the voice that had shouted over them. Yang Jeongin was standing at the end of the hallway, his hands balled into fists at his sides. Just the sight of Kang was enough to make him tremble like a young child again, words stuck momentarily in his throat. This was the same man he had met in court all those years ago, the man who had mercilessly delivered his father’s life sentence with a snakelike smile on his pale lips. Taking a shaky breath, Jeongin mustered up his courage, and ran up to him.

“Please stop this already,” Jeongin pleaded, eyes searching Kang’s bewildered face for signs of guilt, remorse, anything. Kang didn’t seem to recognise him, and the young boy’s voice was breaking as he fought back tears. “Please tell the truth, just this once. I-I don’t know why you’re doing this, but—it doesn’t have to be this way—”

There was a gasp as a few reporters stumbled, and the crowd rippled forward. Kang was knocked off-balance, tumbling to the ground. He cursed, fumbling to get back on his feet — and saw a hand, outstretched towards him from a hoodie sleeve that was clearly too large for its owner. He looked up into the young boy’s face again, his fox-like eyes widened in concern, and finally realised with a jolt who he was talking to.

Nearly a decade ago, Kang thought — an old fool who had picked a fight with high-ranking company officials, no? And then the crackpot had pleaded with Kang, saying something about a son he had to take care of — a young boy— 

Jeongin put his hand on Kang’s arm when the prosecutor didn’t move, and pulled him up. “Mr. Kang, my father—”

Feeling a sudden rage surge through his body, Kang drew his fist back and punched the boy across his jaw. 

Jeongin crumpled to the ground, the side of his face already blooming with red. “You brat,” Kang seethed as cries of horror erupted from the crowd, guards seizing him and trying to pull him away. “What do you understand? Han Jisung, your old man — people like them don’t deserve to walk free.”

You had just stepped out of the courtroom when a commotion in the hallway had made you look over, the scene that had greeted your eyes making you freeze. Jeongin had been clutching Prosecutor Kang’s arm, looking up at the older man imploringly — and his expression had been genuinely kind, almost pitying, his mouth opening and closing frantically as though he were pleading with him. You had shaken your head in disbelief, trying to push through the throng of shocked citizens — only Yang Jeongin’s heart was big enough to look his parents’ tormentor in the eyes, and help him. 

Then Kang had suddenly struck Jeongin, and now the delivery boy was curling up in pain on the ground as the prosecutor screamed at him.

“They were foolish enough — depraved enough  — to violate those laws, and I charged them with what they deserved. It’s as simple as—”

The next thing you knew, you were in front of Kang, palm outstretched, and you had slapped him hard across the face.

The entire crowd fell dead silent, Jeongin looking up at you from the floor in dazed disbelief. Even Kang was speechless as he looked back at you, holding his jaw, eyes about to pop out of their sockets.

“It seems like you know everything about law, Prosecutor Kang,” you said, voice shaking with anger, “but you know nothing about being human.”

Kang opened his mouth, but for once, nothing came out. The hallway was erupting in chaos again as cameras clicked and flashed eagerly. The guards began to drag Kang away before it could get more hectic, your last glimpses of the corrupt prosecutor disappearing behind the reporters’ bobbing heads. As you helped Jeongin up, checking his head worriedly, you felt a hand pull at your own arm. You turned to see Hyunjin, and judging by the look on his face, he had seen everything.

“Is this just going to be a thing now?” The barista asked, side-eyeing you wearily as he held onto Jeongin protectively, “Are you just going to start slapping everyone who crosses you?”

“Maybe,” you muttered mutinously. “It’s faster, and less emotionally draining than negotiating.”

“You’re studying to be a therapist, y/n,” Hyunjin reminded you exasperatedly, and you let out a small laugh, pouting slightly. The barista smiled too, despite himself, and you both looked over at Jeongin. The boy’s eyes were staring over the crowd’s heads, through the lobby doors, and you realised he was watching the officers push Kang into the police cruiser — the man who had ruined his parents’ lives, finally handcuffed and headed where he was supposed to be.  

You turned around, and caught sight of another familiar face further down the hallway, standing perfectly still despite the crowd of people rushing past around him. 

Lee Minho’s face was turned away from you, his catlike eyes staring at something with the same, unfathomable expression you had come to grow so accustomed to. You remembered how you had once been afraid of the coroner and his strange, standoffish manner, but now, as you watched him from afar, you felt a small pang of sympathy. Minho always carried himself like a ghost, you realised — a shadow lingering in the corners of rooms and corridors, unsure if he was ever wanted.

You quickly excused yourself from Hyunjin and Jeongin and you began to push through the crowd towards the coroner. As you followed his gaze to the holding cell doors, they suddenly swung open, and Jisung stepped out into the hallway. Your steps slowed. The two stood facing each other for several long moments — two childhood friends, two lost children who had found their only sense of family — twisted though it had been — in each other. Minho’s face was hesitant, as if about to turn away, but Jisung had already begun walking up to him. You were too far away to hear what they were saying, Jisung’s back turned to you and Minho awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other. 

Then Jisung suddenly closed the gap between the two of them, and pulled Minho into a hug.

You watched as the ex-coroner’s mask finally shattered, the older boy’s face scrunching up like a child’s as he buried his head in Jisung’s shoulder. His entire body shook with silent sobs, as if something in him had finally been let go, a burden he had carried his entire life lifted off his chest. 

Eventually, the guards stepped forward, and Minho pulled away. He looked at Jisung with a small smile on his face — the first genuine smile you had ever seen from him — and you managed to catch the words forming on his lips. 

“Goodbye, Han Jisung.”

“He’ll probably need to go through a trial of his own.” Chan’s voice made you jump in surprise. He had come up beside you while you had been distracted, Felix and Woojin close behind him. He nodded at you by way of greeting before turning back to where Jisung was standing. “The coroner, I mean. But he’ll likely get around five years in prison, more or less.”

You watched as Minho was ushered away into another corridor, Jisung staring at the empty spot where he had once stood. Before you could reply, he turned around, eyes landing on yours — and all of a sudden, you forgot about the security guards flanking every doorway, the law officials and reporters brushing briskly past you. For a moment, it was as if it were only you and Jisung in the hallway, the entire world standing still around the two of you.

Since the last time you had spoken to him had ended with you slapping him in the face, you decided that it was only right for you to take the first step towards him. Slowly, feeling as if you were in a dream, you made your way towards him, Jisung walking the rest of the way to meet you in the middle.  

“Hey, you.” Jisung’s voice was soft, nearly inaudible, not taking his hazel eyes off yours.

You heard Chan chuckle behind you, shaking his head as he threw his arms around Felix and Woojin’s shoulders to steer them away and leave you two in private. The hallways had nearly cleared out, and for the first time in what felt like forever — if you ignored the guards watching a little ways off from the holding cells —  you and Jisung were alone together.

There were a thousand things racing through your mind right now, but you couldn’t seem to find the right words to say. 

“Five years,” Jisung tentatively broke the silence again, and when you looked back at him in confusion, he continued, “in the psychiatric institute. They told me five years minimum, on watch. But I heard...it’s a nice place.”

His lopsided, sheepish smile was as infectious as ever, making one tug at your own lips. When Jisung saw you smile, he relaxed just the tiniest amount.

“Y-you’re going to be okay?” You finally asked, feeling your voice waver. 

Jisung’s gaze softened, nodding. “You saved me.”

“No.” You shook your head firmly. You knew he was talking about Seungmin’s arguments, Jeongin’s witness statements, the article you and Felix had published — but it all might have been for nothing, you thought, mind flashing back to the courtroom, if Jisung hadn’t finally stepped up from his chair and faced his lifelong traumas in the form of one last, truthful testimony. “Han Jisung, you saved yourself.”

He fell silent at that, and you saw his hand instinctively move towards yours for a split second before he quickly stopped himself. Jisung’s arms were floating by his sides, as if wanting to pull you close, but he was holding himself back. He was afraid, you finally realised — afraid that you would push him away, afraid to ever hurt you again. And for some, inexplicable reason, the idea of a rift between the two of you that could never be repaired seemed to hurt even more than a switchblade to the heart.

“For some reason, I’ve been thinking back to our first date,” Jisung cleared his throat, one hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. He probably looked like a nervous schoolboy in front of his first love, Jisung thought, cringing at himself as he looked away from your curious gaze. Well, he added as an afterthought, that wouldn’t be too far off.

You were his first love, after all.  

“I...I didn’t know how you felt that day,” Jisung continued, “or even the days after that, to be honest. I didn’t know if I was doing things right, or—”

“You took my breath away,” you cut him off, the honesty in your own words making your cheeks heat up. You thought back to the diner, to the blond boy who had rendered you speechless with a single heart-shaped smile. As an afterthought, you brought a hand to your rib cage, where a switchblade in that same boy’s hands had once punctured through your lungs, and you deadpanned, “literally.”

Eyebrows raising in disbelief, Jisung gave an incredulous laugh, but his gaze was fixed on the site of your wound. You could still see the deep guilt in his eyes, and, taking a deep breath, you reached for his hand, gingerly placing it where the knife had been. His skin was cool against your fingers, palm rough but familiar. “I’m okay, Jisung. It’s okay. But...why bring that up, all of a sudden?”

“I feel like that now,” he admitted softly, “the same feeling, but with a whole new set of butterflies. Always thinking about you, worrying about you. Wondering how you feel about…”

“Us,” you finished for him, and Jisung nodded slowly. Us. The word hung between the two of you for a long moment, and you took a shaky breath. A part of you wanted to reassure him, to pull him into your arms as if nothing had ever changed. But another part of you pushed that feeling away, knowing deep down that it was too late, that too much had already happened between the two of you to just ignore.

“I don’t know,” you answered truthfully, and you looked down, afraid to see the expression on his face. “I woke up that morning, and you were just...gone. I was so scared for you, I went looking for you...then one thing lead to another, and before we all knew it, the world had turned upside down. I-it might sound selfish, but after all...this, I think I’m going to need some...time.” You finally lifted your eyes up to his face, heart pounding. For a terrifying second, you thought you saw a flash of pain skip across Jisung’s pupils — but before you could be sure, his face broke into a relieved smile. 

“You’ve always been like this, you know?” He sighed, one hand reaching up to gently tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. Then, contrary to what you had expected, Jisung visibly relaxed. “Worrying about other people before taking care of yourself. You’re not being selfish, okay? Don’t...worry about hurting me anymore.”

You stared at him, the genuine warmth in his words suddenly making your throat close up with stunned tears. Jisung’s eyes, you remembered, had always seemed glazed over and unfocused — as if his mind was trapped somewhere else, far, far away. But as he looked back at you now, you were suddenly hit by how...clear they had become. He was here, perfectly focused on you, eyes filled with what you could only describe as pure adoration.

“I need time, too,” Jisung continued quickly, “I have...so many things I need to fix, to work on, and get better at—”

You shook your head furiously then, tears spilling onto your cheeks as you held onto his wrist. “W-want to love every part of you,” you whispered, forcing your voice to remain steady. “Don’t...don’t hide any parts of yourself, ever again. Okay?”

Jisung watched you for a long moment, brow furrowed as he gingerly wiped your tears, and finally gave a small nod. He cradled your face in his hands, eyes trying to memorise your features as though you were the most beautiful thing he would ever see. To someone else, you thought vaguely, you might have looked insane. A killer’s hands, they might have said, bloodstained hands. But as you gazed up at Jisung, all you saw was a boy who had gone through hell and came back smiling, a boy who loved you more than life itself.

You heard footsteps approaching, and looked up to see several security guards making their way towards Jisung. “Mr. Han,” one called gruffly, “it’s time to go.”

The sudden interruption made your mind go blank momentarily as any reasonable words — goodbye, take care — immediately dissolved on your tongue. The guards were getting closer and closer, and Jisung turned back to you, stammering. 

“If you ever want to—to do this whole...love thing again, start over properly, I—I promise I’ll try not to screw it up. I mean, if you’re sure—and only if you’re sure,” he paused then, sounding suddenly flustered, and for a second, he was your tousled-hair, golden boy from the diner again, soft cheeks flushed like windblown peach roses, eyes unsure yet hopeful as a child’s. This was the boy you had fallen in love with, over blueberry pancakes and Chinese takeout, on seemingly endless nights and through the darkest thunderstorms. Ever since you had made that promise, in a children’s playground beneath the setting sun, you knew that somehow, no matter what fate had left in store, you would always find your way back to him. 

Jisung was already being ushered away, the sudden absence of his touch on your skin leaving you feeling empty — but his last words brought a smile to your tearstained face.

“...I’ll be waiting.”

ryu says:

thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to everyone who made it to the end of this series; to everyone who came on this long journey with me, you made it possible and amazing every step of the way. at times, as my first ever series and long-term project, it was both daunting and terrifying, but i am beyond happy and honoured i could experience it with you.

i’ll see you in the epilogue.

[jstmymagination]

After he dropped Marissa back off to A Safe Place he met up with Tohr at Havers clinic. Tohr wanted to speak with him to possibly get more details about the condition of the patient and the attack. Hello, May I help you gentlemen, said Havers head nurse Julie. Tohr respsond yes, we would like to speak to MD if he is in. He is scheduled to be back in about 5 mins if you guys have time to stick around and wait. They both obliged. Havers finished his transfusion bandaged his arm and rolled his long sleeved shirt back down. On top of that he put on his lab coat check himself in the mirror and headed back upstairs to resume the rest of his day. When he came around the corner he was greeted by 2 of the kings men. One of them being his brother in law Butch. Hello Gentlemen what May I assist you with evening? We would like to speak with regarding the attacked patients Ahh yes, we can step into my office. A few steps up the hallway and they were inside Havers office. The space itself was very cold the walls were covered with degrees from Harvard School of Medicine on his desk sat an MacBook to left of that 2 iPads a phone equipped with intercom and a to the right two 4 x 6 picture frames turned face down. Yes Gentlemen take a seat... I’m sorry if the information I provided to my sister wasn’t quite detailed enough however that’s I all I have to go on. Did anyone of the victims mention where they were or what they were doing when the attack happened. Unfortunately not, by the time they make it to me they are so badly beaten and drained, that the memory is scattered. Well if you hear anything please let us know. Butch started clearing his throat.. how would you like to join us for dinner sometime doc. We are family are we not? I’m willing to leave the past in the past if you are? For my shellens sake I’m asking for you for a family dinner just the three of us, whaddaya say? Havers was completely shocked by the gesture but did accept his brother in law invitation to dinner. He could tell that the warrior was grateful for his acceptance by the look on his face. Yes , I would be honored to have dinner with you and my dear sister. How about this coming Friday night? Friday it is. When they got back in the ESV Tohr looked over at Butch who was looking straight ahead and asked.. what was that about? Butch said would you believe me if I said I have not a fucking clue.. Something Marissa said today at lunch got to me.

How did you get through so many volumes? This stuff so boring. It’s not so bad once you learn my system. The first hundred or so pages are always going to the story of the warriors parents & their lineage. So that’s a blah, blah, blah... bore, bore, bore The next hundred pages always focus on the rearing, training and everything taught prior to them going through the change. I.E. more blah, blah, blah. This is why we want to start each volume on or around page 300. That’s where all the good stuff or need to know information starts. Great let’s skip to page 300 then. Not quite yet ..each of these journals are 500 pages long. You still don’t want to read those 200 pages, trust me. So then the next step is read pages 300 to 350 then skip to page 400 read to the end. I promise you my system works. You will learn everything you NEED to know about each warrior without being bogged down in the minutia. And if you have any questions I will be here to fill in the blanks. Shall we get started then.. Five hours later Lassiter pulled his head out of one of the journals and to see Pea looking stressed and uncomfortable. Are you okay? Yea just a little tired today has been long for me? Can we call it night? Sure you can go ahead up and I will pick up with you tomorrow. Pea went down the hall to room that had been assigned to her. Once inside she locked the door and went straight into bathroom to run warm water in that ginormous bathtub. Her joints were stinging and the make matters worst her stomach was growling. The smoothie only calmed it down for a little while how on earth was she supposed to make it another 20 days. After Pea added some lavender bubble bath she eased down into the water and said a silent prayer for relief. While she sat there she thought about all the people that lived in the house and how they greeted her with open arms.. particularly the queen. Wrath had not only settled down but made an aire to the throne. My how times have changed anyway I can’t afford to take any chances at this time, I have to stay on course. With that thought she closed her eyes and tired to relax.

Ahh yes we will have stuffed chicken, creamed spinach, garlic mashed potatoes for the entree and please make sure we have plenty of alkaline water. Also his favorite dessert is yellow cake with chocolate icing I would have a fresh one made as well. And then a bottle of scotch for my hellren. I think that should do it.. we will be using the private diningroom at A Safe Place it’s a little intimate setting so May I ask that you freshen up the linens on the table. Yes madam Fritz replied. Marissa had asked Fritz to assist her with her brothers' dinner because she wanted everything to be perfect and let’s face it perfection was Fritz's middle name. Even though the night was upon them she still couldn’t believe that her brother had agreed to have dinner with her and her hellren. Havers arrived promptly at 6:30 carrying a little box of treats no doubt they were macaroons. He knew that they were his sisters favorite. Marissa let fritz answer the door because her nerves were in ball. When Fritz escorted Havers through the door Marissa kept a poker face but she was mortified at how thin and frail he looked. Havers had never really been a big guy but he always carried a good amount weight on him... being 6ft 1 his body was well toned and full of definition. The person that stood in front of her now.. looked nothing like that. Greetings Brother mine, thank you for joining us for dinner. I am glad your hellren extended me the invitation When Marissa reached for her brothers embrace she tried to hold back the tears in her eyes. I’ve missed you, Havers And I have missed you my dear Marissa, here these are for you Come let’s sit down. Havers had to take a step back and he realized that Marissa hellren was dressed in a suit. The guy cleaned up very well. Man that lab coat adds 20lbs to him butch thought This guy is small, hell he looks like he could use a trip to the doctor. As Marissa and Havers reacquainted themselves with each other, Fritz began serving the meal.

Hi are you guys doing yoga today? Pea asked Bella, Mary, & Beth when she came downstairs. I would like to participate if y’all have room from one more body. Since it was going on her second week there Pea body had began to ache all over. Her senses were super heighten and she could feel herself becoming more aggressive. She knew exactly what or should I say who was responsible for triggering all of this. She could smell him through the walls even though they were separated by two floors, she could feel every moved he made. Those dark spices when he emerged from his room in the morning that poured all over him and Beth. The scent spoke to her like a mating call and her body was starting to respond. She could feel him as he approached the steps, hell at last meal she could smell his breath as if she were right in his face about to kiss him. This house is too small she thought, when he open his mouth to talk she immediately began to moisten in between her thighs, her pulse increased, she began panting for breath and her nipples instantly harden to the point that they were poked through her shirt. Her body was totally aroused and she couldn’t control it. Pea knew that she couldn’t let that happen again so instead of sitting down to any meal with the family she either made up excuses, or she would time it so that she’d be outside the house walking or on a pretend phone call. Tonight yoga would be the perfect distraction. Staying busy and pushing through the pain was name of the game. This would all be over in another week. Then she could go back to regular unbothered life. I missed you at last meal are you okay. Oh yes, I just had another meeting I have to stay ahead Of the curve. Fashion and time stop for no one..

Lassiter was so thankful for Pea her tips truly saved him from months and quite possibly years of reading. He notice that she had made herself right at home, like everyone else does that enters this house. When he went looking for her yesterday to get started, he saw that she was having tea with Mary, Jane & Manny. They appeared to be caught up in a debate over the show Fixer Upper with Chip and Joanna Gaines. Who’s the boss and who has the brains?! Pea & Manny were team Joanna for both Boss and Brains while Mary and Jane were team Chip. The show never really appealed to Lassiter much. He slowly backed into the study and started without her. Lassiter was trying to think of the best way to repay her. He couldn’t just let her go back to the city and never touch base again. That just wouldn’t do... maybe he could get Fritz to organize a going away brunch.. since Pea always drinking a beet smoothie, or beet juice. Come to think of it.. he rarely saw her with anything else. Hey Lassiter, I’m going to participate in the yoga class with Bella and the ladies, do you mind? Not all.. if I have any questions I know where to find you. Okay thanks. Hey.. what were you thinking for dinner? And before you answer I don’t hear anything that start with the word beet. Pea let out a little laugh and said fine... I hadn’t thought about it.. you pick and I will eat. Cool, have a good workout. Thanks! Pea left the study feeling more nervous than ever. How was she going to choke down any kind of food.. for one she didn’t have any type of appetite and for two.. even if she did.. her teeth were aching her so badly that she wouldn’t be able to chew it. She would have to think of a clever way to stall him out.

Marissa was so happy with the way dinner turned out for her Butch and Havers she had been a giddy mood all week. Havers had come with fully open arms it was obvious that he had missed her as well. They talked before, during and after the meal, after all it had been two years since they last spoke to each other. She learned that he still visited his late wife parents every Sunday just like he did when she was alive. She also learned that he had began toying with the idea of training another physician to help assist him with his workload. Between births, injuries, sickness and crime.. he was busy around the clock. That cause concern for Marissa because Havers was unhealthy himself. She didn’t want to get into the blood transfusions that he was administering to himself but she knew that issue definitely had to be addressed soon. Havers prolly went from a healthy weight of 200lbs prior to his shellen dying to the 125lbs that sat across from her at the dinner table. Butch was also caught by surprise when he realized that they both were Red Sox fans... they both preferred a good scotch to any other liquor and both like the same types of music. At one point during the evening Butch even referred to him as bro-n-law. Havers also informed Marissa that the families of the glymera had decided to hold their annual crown ball. Traditionally meant for highest and Nobelist families to pay ridiculously amounts of money to rub elbows with King and Queen for the evening. It included fine dining and dancing. However since the king took so long to ascend to the throne.. and even afterwards the tradition was halted. So now that Wrath has taken his place and disbanded the old glymera counsel. The newly appointed heads of each family decided it was time to start holding the crown balls again. Marissa was surprised when she heard about it and wondered if the King and Queen would be willing to participate. The donations would help her add additional rooms on to A Safe Place. After that they all agreed that they would do it again real soon and Marissa was anxious to call him now. I never thought I of all people would be saying this but I kind of feel sorry for the guy. Butch said to Rhage, V, & Phury for years I’ve wanted nothing more than to kill him for what he did my wife but after hearing his story it’s kinda hard to hate the bastard. Phury looked over at Butch and said so he’s been in mourning all this time? Wow. V chimed in as he sat back on the bench press machine and said he has been in mourning times 2 don’t forget the young. Rhage stopped the treadmill ... I can’t begin to imagine life without my Mary or Bitty but it still doesn’t excuse the fact that he put Marissa out just before sunrise. I’d hate to be in your shoes. Then to top things off We have stuff in common... V he’s a Sox fan!!! He listens to hip hop not this new crap either I’m talking Biggie, Tupac, Nas, Jay-z.... They all stop what were doing turned to Butch and said in unison Havers?!?!... then burst into laughter. Down in the library Lassiter settled in with a cup of tea and picked up the next journal which was the story of Danger son of Danger. Just as he opened the book Bitty came in with her iPad. Looking for a quiet place to study? Lassiter asked. Yea, my mom wants me learn a second language so I chose Spanish. I thought it would be a lot more interesting than what it actually is. What are you doing? Same thing only I’m not learning a second language, I’m learning about the brotherhood and how it all came to be. Well that sounds a lot more interesting than this. I suppose it does, hey you want to help me plan a party? Bitty perked up. Yes who’s it for? Pea she is coming up on her last week here with us and I’d like to host a going away party for her. Sure I’d love to help with that, but wait I thought she lived in the city. She does. So then why are we giving her a party? Won’t she be coming back to visit us? Lassiter responded, well she’s really busy and I don’t know when we will have time to do this again. Oh okay, I really like Pea, she makes the best beet smoothies not to thick and not too thin. I much rather drink one of Peas smoothies then eat my vegetables, Bitty said with a innocent smile. After yoga Pea sat in the kitchen nursing a bottle of water listening to Marissa tell Beth about the Crown Ball.. to be honest the event sounded like something that could be really nice with the right people in charge. But she knew that even if Beth wanted to attend the big hurdle would be convincing Wrath that this would be worth his time. Wrath loathed any kind of attention from the families of the glymera. He knew that they didn’t care for him particularly because of the woman he chose as his queen was a halfbred. Wrath didn’t give a shit though after all who was going challenge the King. “ Crown Ball does sound like something that could benefit everyone” I know you want me to mention it to Wrath however I think for better affect we both may need to tackle him with this one. I can’t make any promises we both know how my hellren feels about that group of people. Pea left them and went to the study to find Lassiter she purposely sat in the kitchen to stall for time. The thought of trying to eat something made bile rise up in the back of her throat. Luck was on side this evening, by the time she arrived back to the library Lassiter was gone. Pea quickly jotted down a note left beside the stack journals and went to her room. Lassiter couldn’t even focus when Tohr gave out the assignments in the meeting, he was so overwhelmed with the information in the last journal. He knew that every line recorded in those journals was true. Every person, mating, birth, event, fight, every single thing that the Scribe had chronicled was all true. So this in fact had to be. Lassiter had been repeatedly re-reading the last sentence on the last page over and over again. “And the Kingdoms people shall be ruled with Wrath and Serenity” .. when he went back there, he had planned on addressing Pea but instead of finding her.. there was note in her place. “ came to see what’s for dinner but you were gone :( , gone to take shower and relax, maybe tomorrow?” Why couldn’t I see this from the beginning.. She can’t leave this house on Sunday.

Paging Dr. Havers code Blue, code blue Dr. Havers... not again. This happens every time I start my transfusion. Havers stopped the IV pump, removed the IV from his blistered arm, rolled Down his sleeve, grabbed his lab coat and headed back upstairs. These attacks were happening to frequently now.. im having a hard time keeping up with my treatments. What do we have? Young male just out of change, mom says he went hiking behind his house , he had been gone for 4 hours which was not normal for him. She started calling his cellphone and didn’t receive an answer so she went searching for him. When she got to the edge of property she could see his jacket in the bushes. He appeared to be beaten badly with bad cut to his rib cage. Julie let’s get him in OR 2 he losing a lot of blood. Another long day these attacks are getting more gruesome, this time I had to remove a small part of the small intestines the bleeding and the wounds were just to badly damaged. Since this kid was a lot younger he was hoping to talk to him once he awoke from the surgery. It shouldn’t take long for the kid to recover. Maybe he could get some details to pass along to his brother in law. It still seemed so strange to be on talking terms with his sister. Havers started feeling unlike himself after that 2nd hour of surgery. He actually felt weak.. he knew that he couldn’t neglect anymore transfusions because the outcome could be deadly or even worst than that he could get bloodlust. With shakey hands and a hungry stomach he made it through the procedure then left explicit directions with his nurse that he under NO circumstances was to be bothered. When he got back downstairs in his private lab and removed his lab coat, he could feel a sharp pain starting at his wrist and shooting up his left arm. When pulled his shirt back he could see there was blood clot under the skin at the wrist area. He quickly began rubbing applying pressure to dissolve it. He just wasn’t healing as quickly as he should be and this was starting to be a big problem.

Lassiter had been avoiding Pea purposely for the past few days. He knew her time with him was coming to an end and was trying find another solution. He also knew that she wouldn’t mind because she had become quite found of hanging out with ladies or having tea & gossip with Mary, Manny, and Jane. She actually fit right in here, of course she fit right in she is one of us. After all the reading I’ve done this is what I come up with?nothing, nothing, not a thang. All roads lead back to her. At that moment Lassiter looked up and said out load to no one in particular, Really!! All that reading... with a deep breath Lassiter thought No need to prolong the inevitable. He arrived back at the brotherhood mansion it was right before first meal the doggen had the table set and people were already stirring about inside the house. Quinn and Blay were getting the twins seated in there high chairs. John & Xhex were playing with LW while Beth was helping the doggen arrange all the food. Everyone was slowly making there way to diningroom everyone except for Pea that is. Lassiter went down the hall and knocked on Peas room door... Pea heard the knock and said one second. The pain she was in this morning was the worst!! Nothing was working anymore.. she had to leave this house today! She gathered herself as best she could and answered the door. Oh Hi, I wasn’t expecting you this early, what’s up? Lassiter for the first time could see the pain in her eyes.. we need to talk. Okay sure, I was wondering when would I see you again... Pea opened the door and went back to sit in the edge of the bed. I have a question for you and I need the truth. Okay. Whats your question? What is your name? Lassiter you know my name... Lassiter began shaking his head back and forth don’t bullshit me, I know the name you gave me which is Pea.. But what is your name your real name the name given to you by your mahmen at birth. With deep exhale Pea stood up and said fine.. my name is Serenity.. Lassiter went to the velvet high back chair that sat across from bed and dropped in the seat like a log. He starting scrubbing hands down his face leaned back and said you cannot leave. Pea looked over in his direction and said we had a deal. I know we had a deal but that was... No, no, no... no buts... our deal was I train you for three weeks and no matter WHAT you found out I get to leave and walk away. I cannot let you leave!! Holding up the journal he asked what does this say? Tell me what does it say?! I am very capable of taking care of myself.. this is not about you taking care of yourself. Tell me what does it say? Wrath and Beth are going a great job... they don’t need me. Lassiter calmed himself and said...Pea, look at yourself? Is pain getting any better? Do you think it is just gonna go away?! Sweetheart that’s not how this works and you know it... you cannot leave this house. I will be fine! You won’t be... I’ve managed this long... You’ve managed because you weren’t in the company of the only other person that is just like you... you can’t stop your transition... Fine... I’ll leave now..and send for my things.. I need to get back to my life anyway. Pea.. was so frustrated she walked out of the room without even grabbing her Birkin bag. As she got closer to main diningroom she could feel Lassiter behind her ... aren’t you going to at least tell them goodbye? I think they deserved that much Pea turned around shot him a nasty glare and headed towards the dininroom. Everyone was there and breakfast was in full swing... perfect she thought to herself just what need a bigger audience.

Good day everyone, I just wanted to stop in to say my goodbyes. I have to leave today, I have emergency that needs my attention. I didn’t have time to gather my things Lassiter will drop them off later. Beth and Wrath I thank you so much for your hospitality my stay here was perfect in every way. Pea turned to Lassiter and said I’m ready. Lassiter gave Pea a level stare and said I must do what is best for the good of everyone. He then stepped around Pea and said to Wrath she cannot leave this house. It is a matter of life and death, it is not safe for her... you have to order her to stay! Order me??!!, I will be fine No you won’t, you are in pain as we speak! Do you think those baths are going to stop this process? I will be fine. You will die? You don’t know that... I can take care of myself. When is the last time you ate a meal? A full meal? Do you think those beets are gonna help you get through this? Wrath cut in, Lassiter if she wants to leave I will not make her stay... Thank you Wrath... Fine... you want to leave? I will personally drop you off myself but first tell him your name. Tell him your birth name given to you by your mahmen.. and I won’t say another word. Pea looked at Wrath and spoke in the old language ... “my name makes no difference a Queen has been chosen”.... knowing my name changes nothing... At that moment everyone at the table who understood the old language stopped eating and slowly turned their heads and faced Pea... Then tell him.. Pea spoke in English this time.. my name is Serenity I am the daughter and only living child of Sir Danger son of Danger the highest princeps the last surviving member of the last founding family. The next sound everyone heard was a loud crash of a fine sliver tea set hit the floor. And the person who dropped it? Fritz! The doggen stepped across the mess of spilled tea, cream and honey and walked towards Pea with both hands over his mouth. Tis you? Pea looked at Fritz with a tear rolling down her cheek and said yes its me. As she reached her hand to touch his cheek she said in the old language your sacrifice saved me..my protector.. my servant, my friend and I live because of you. Then she turned to face Lassiter and said I will leave now.

Before could Lassiter could respond.. Pea started walking toward the front door. Need a ride? Yes please. And then she was gone.

Fritz , frazzled turned to face Wrath.. apologies sire. I will have the mess clean right away. His servants snapped into action. Meanwhile everyone at the table was totally silent.. some from shock and the others didn’t know what to say. Wrath handed LW over Beth , backed away from the table and headed towards the stairs with George in tow. Without saying another word one by one all the brotherhood got up and followed suit. Lassiter and Xcor being the last two to enter his study. As soon as Lassiter entered Wrath asked... how long have you known Sounding exhausted Lassiter responded... a few days now... And you just now saying something. How can you be sure it’s her... Lassiter pulled out the journal flipped to The last page and gave it to Tohr... who then looked at it and read it aloud “and the kingdom... Wrath cut him off and finished “shall be ruled by Wrath and Serenity... But still how can you be certain it’s really her? The Scribe Virgin left the address to store she owns in one of the journals. I found the address and checked it out before I read the journal. I went there located her and we made a deal that she would help me with translating all the material left to me. In return after three weeks she could leave no questions asked. This was before you found out who she was? Correct Zadist spoke up... why do you think she is going to die? She hasn’t been through the transition yet.. someone said wait how is that even possible? another Fuck.. came through the crowd Lassiter looked over at Vishous who’s response was let me guess. My mom had something to do with this? And from what I gather, she was fine until she came in presence of the only person that could trigger it. Lucky Me.. Wrath said So what do we do? V said to Lassiter I don’t know, all I know is that if we don’t do something she will die. Butch spoke up and said.._Well there are plenty of men that I’m sure would be happy to assist her with getting through the transition, hell we have a house full of single men all she has to do is chose. It’s not that simple, Tohr responded. Then Wrath spoke up, It has to be me.. it’s my duty. As your king I believe in being totally transparent with you especially because you all are my brothers. Then Wrath took a deep breath and said. I need to save her.. I can feel it in my chest... She can’t die. So then Xcor said... what’s the move?

Downstairs the ladies were trying to wrap their heads around what had just happened. Beth sat back in her chair and asked who is Serenity daughter in Danger? Both Bella and Marissa started speaking at once... Serenity... the both looked at each other... Marissa spoke first.. long story short.. she is the female version of Wrath. She is the last full blood female vampire. Bella started talking by this point. According to our scriptures and everything we were taught... That whole family was murdered in the war that took place in the old country. I’m talking no survivors much like Wrath’s family was. So then how did she survive? Beth asked. At that time Fritz, who had re-entered the room clear his throat. Ah-hum... Madam if it would not offend I can answer that question for you. Beth quickly summoned Fritz to the table to have a seat.. please share with me.

Balthazar, Of all people... she ended up in the car with Balthazar. But hell anything to get out of that house and off of that mountain. She had been so successful for centuries keeping her true identity a secret and now that was all over. However she wasn’t about to worry about it because there were more pressing issues. She was not well, her joints were on fire and she felt like she was hit in the mouth. So where are you headed? Balthazar asked. You can just drop me off at my house. Okay After a moment or two of silence Balthazar said, I need your address and you don’t look well. He was right Peas health was declining fast. I live off of Wallace avenue and yea I know.... more silence more driving. Pea tried to adjust herself in the seat to find some comfort however nothing worked. Once on Wallace avenue Pea said White House black shutters. Balthazar pulled in slowly and Pea had never been so happy to see her home. Do you need some help inside, yes please. Balthazar put the car in park then opened his door and went around to the passenger side and opened the door for Pea. She was able to brace herself enough so that she didn’t have to put all her weight on him. He started walking her in the direction of the front door but she remembered that her keys were in her Birkin that she left at the mansion. Through the garage.. huh... let’s go through the garage, I don’t have my keys. Keys, Balthazar said with a smirk, who needs keys? We are not breaking into my house, we can use the keyless entry pad and go through the garage door. Fine we can do it your way... Pea went over to the keypad that sat at the top right panel and was painted the same color as the garage door she punched in the code 0820 and the door been to lift from the bottom. Inside her truck was right where she left it untouched... Nice Balthazar said looking at the Bentley truck.as they were walking past it he nodded his head towards door the opened to inside of the house. Can we get in there? It should already be open and it was. Pea was able to make it to her kitchen table on her on. I’m the last person to get in anybody’s business but are you sure you don’t want me to call someone. Because no offense but you look like shit. Well thank you and I will be okay I just need to get some rest. Okay well then I will let myself out and don’t worry about closing the garage I got It. So Pea sat the table another 10 minutes then stood up went back to the kitchen door opened it made sure that her garage door was closed, which it was then she closed the kitchen door and locked it. She used the security keypad in her kitchen to set the house alarm and then she went downstairs. Pea had purposely purchased a house with a basement for this reason alone. She was to a point where couldn’t protect herself due to her body trying to transition. The basement door had separate keypad which used a fingerprint for entry once the door disengaged the lights on the stairwell automatically came on ... Pea took her time and went step by step because the last thing she needed was to slip and fall. Once she reached the bottom of the stairs she could see the bed promised to be comfortable and to her right she opened the door to the bathroom... the full bathroom was nice addition to the basement because Pea didn’t have to go up 2 flights of stairs to shower. She looked at garden tub that was in the corner but she was wise enough to not try getting in there. Instead she turned on the shower water hot as she could stand it. She removed her clothes and got in. The hot water felt amazing on Peas skin but she could barely stand so with one hand on the safety rail She reached and turned the water off. Pea stepped out toweled off as best she could and put on her emerald green satin bathrobe. She took 2 steps out of the bathroom and toward the bed before her knees turned to jelly. Pea cried out in pain & fell to her knees in agony. Breathe deep just breathe deep she thought to herself. You can make it to the bed, you got this,.... Pea laid on the floor for another few minutes or it could have been a few hours before she tried to move again. This time instead of standing she crawled to side of her bed. She pushed the covers back and brushed the pillows to other side... you can do this.. you can get in bed... on the count of three girl let’s do it... 1...2...3 PULL.... Pea pulled herself up got in bed and pulled the duvet up enough to cover her waist on down. She broke out into a cold sweat as a sharp pain ripped through her gut... she thought well this is it.. this is how I will die and then passed out.

Havers gave himself one transfusion per day over the past three days and that seemed to be working. He started feeling more like himself, he was able to get rest which helped his energy levels return back to normal and he even had a little bit of an appetite. So by all accounts he was doing good. He had spoken with his sister who had informed him that she had spoken to the Queen about possibly participating in this years Crown Ball. They had a meeting with Wrath set for tomorrow and overall she was very optimistic about it. They also scheduled a lunch date with each other for Friday afternoon she would come over to the clinic this time. Havers hadn’t thought much about the menu but he knew all of his sisters favorite foods so that part was easy. Hi Dr. Havers the patient in room 4 has awaken, Okay that’s good Julie I will be right in there. The patient from last night was found by her neighbor dehydrated and disoriented. Dorothy stated she hadn’t seen her for a couple days and she couldn’t get answer on the phone so she walked over to the house to do a warfare check and there was Ms. Hunt sitting in the her favorite chair in front of the tv completely disoriented. Dorothy called out to her a couple of times before she turned her head and made eye contact. Dorothy called Havers and he sent over the ambulance to transport her to the clinic. That’s one downside to out living your spouse and growing older if you can’t afford doggen or a caregiver, the elderly are left to fin for themselves and unfortunately Ms. Hunt was showing all the signs of dementia. Hi Ms. Hunt how are you doing this evening? I am fine. Good, do you know where you are? Yes Dr. Havers I’m at your clinic. So you know who I am then. Yes sir, you are Dr. Havers. Yes ma’am and do you remember how you got here. The elderly woman got quiet Havers could tell that she was trying to remember what she did last but was having no luck. Ms. Hunt it is quite alright if you can’t recall all that matters is getting you back hydrated and healthy. Havers told Julie to put in a call to A Safe Place and explain the situation he was sure that his sister would be able to assist the women. Back in his office Havers felt a little peckish so he started eating some white rice made with coconut milk and covered in Ginger sauce. It was the only thing that he could keep on his stomach. He was hoping all the starch would help me out some weight back on. His mind rain back to the old women and her situation she had not been the first elderly patient that he treated for dehydration but her condition had definitely been the worse. It was a bummer not having any children or relatives to help take of you. Havers thought about how they took care of his mahmen until the very end. Then he glanced over at the two 4x6 pictures frames that were faced down on his desk. The pain was still fresh as if it happened yesterday and all he could do was just stare at the two objects that held what was left of a life he once lived. Someday he will have the strength to either stand them upright or put them away for good.

There was knock outside of Wrath’s office door before he could asked who is it, Beth answered it’s me Wrath we need to talk. She is the only person that could ever get away with interrupting a botherhood meeting. Meeting adjourned, you may enter . John opened the door and was the first out followed by all the rest. Beth said to them stay close by I won’t be long. Beth let everyone out then she walked in with LW on her hip, her hellren back up from his desk and stood to greet her. LW reached for his father as he always did and Wrath happily accepted him into his arms. Wrath sat back down in his chair and Beth sat on his lap. You have to save her Wrath... I know who she is and what she was meant to be. She is too important to the out race to let go, she belongs here with us. Wrath pulled his leelan close nuzzled his nose close to vein in her neck that he fed from and whispered I love you and I don’t deserve you. With a giggle Beth put her hands on the sides of her hellrens face and pulled him in close kissed him and said ... Let us go so that you can get back to work. I will send everyone back inside Beth opened the door thank everyone for their patience and sent them all back inside. After everyone was back in the office Wrath said we will be going to get Pea. Lassiter do you know where we can find her? She left in the car with Balthazar Xcor said, I will hit him up and see where he took her. Xcor called Balthazar put him on speaker right then.. What’s happening? The female Pea left here with you correct? Yes I dropped her off on Wallace Ave, White House black shutters.... after a moment Balthazar added if y’all going to get her, y’all might want to hurry because when I left there she was in bad shape. With that the line ended.. Lassiter spoke up I have the address and Butch said we have been there before I can get back there in no time. Wrath said I’m coming with you, I have too. With Wrath coming that meant all hands on deck. The brotherhood along with the band of bastards would be on high alert. We will meet downstairs in 10mins let’s move. With that everyone left the office went and put their gear on. Rhage walked into his room and saw Mary laying across the bed even though he received direct orders from the king he was drawn over to the bed. He couldn’t help himself... He bent over and dropped his big chest against Marys little body.. she greeted him with a smile on her face and said well hello you. To what do I owe this pleasure he bent down to kiss either side her neck and all of a sudden he felt need to feed. He fought the urge kissed her and then pulled back up to face her. You smell amazing..did you change shampoos or soaps? He let up off the bed and headed towards the walk-in closet. We have to go get Pea and bring her back here.. so I will be gone for a while. Okay, I’m happy that Wrath has decided to have her brought back here. Yea, he is actually coming along this time. With a yawn Mary said please be careful honey. Always, I love you and I will see you when I return. With that Rhage shut door and headed towards the stairs. When he reached the bottom he was joined Zadist, Phury, Butch, Zcor, & Quinn. Within minutes everyone else was there and they were loading into a series of vehicles. When the king left the mansion everyone was on top of their shit. . As they road Wrath was mentally preparing himself for the worst remembering how badly his transition and beat him down. 10mins later Butch was making the right intron Wallace Ave when they pulled into the driveway. Vishous through up an mhis then The security detail got out and swept the area first before Wrath’s door was opened. Once everything in the perimeter was clear Tohrment opened the back door for Wrath. He got out and head straight for the front door Wrath hit the doorbell a couple of times and then said to Vishous we have to get inside. She has a security system wire to house let me see if I can bypass it, the last thing we need is human law enforcement to show up. Balthazar started speaking as he walked closer to the porch go through the garage the code is 0820... I dropped her off earlier remember. So they went to garage door tohrment put in to code and door began to lift from the bottom. They all walked passed her Bentley truck to the door that opened into the house. This time it was locked But Vishous had no issues bypassing the alarm from the inside. He opened the door that led into the kitchen and Wrath made a beeline pass him to the door that lead to the basement. She’s down here open it! Vishous said this one has a fingerprint keypad may take a minute. The next thing Wrath heard was a large bang which was V using his fist to completely knock down the keypad. Tohr said it still won’t open so they stood back while he kicked the door in. The lights on the stairwell flickered on and off as Zadist went in first followed by Butch & Rhage then Wrath after him Phury, Vishous & Tohr. John, Quinn and Balthazar remained at the top of the stairwell for security protocol. Once they got to the bottom they saw Pea in bed overcome with fever, washed down in sweat. Everyone positioned themselves in a corner of the basement making sure they each had full view of the door. Wrath pulled back the Duvet carefully so that he wouldn’t expose any of her private areas and then he did his best to swaddle her with the top sheet on the bed.. he carefully placed one hand under the middle of her back and the other under the bend in her knees then as gently as he could he lifted her up off the bed. He turned around and sat down so that she was in his lap. Pea could smell Wrath but she was too weak to open her eyes, she wanted to tell him no please don’t try to save me. But her throat was so dry she felt like she swallowed a cotton ball dipped in Habanero sauce. When Wrath bent down to pick her up she could feel his hair and smell those dark spices all over him. Her fangs elongated for the first time. Even though her mind was screaming no, no, no anybody but him.. her body was reacting otherwise. When Wrath lifted her up she let out a little grunt from the pain... then she felt him sit down Wrath heard the grunt and whispered I’m sorry as he placed Pea in his lap. Wrath scored his wrist and held it up to Peas mouth. Pea you need this to survive please open for me. He rubbed his wrist across her mouth but he could tell that she was fighting her natural instincts to feed. Pea could smell Wrath’s blood but would not feed. Instead she opened her mouth fought through the pain in her throat and whispered “Beth is Queen”. Wrath responded yes Beth is Queen and the Queen sent me to get you please drink. He put his wrist back to her mouth but she gave another grunt and turned her mouth away from Wrath. Pea repeated “Beth is Queen”... Wrath knew what he needed to do. Wrath licked his wrist to seal the two punctures then pushed his hair back to expose the vein in his neck then he titled Peas face back toward him. In the old language he said, “ My Queen take from me what you need to nourish your body, as your King I am here to serve you” then he moved her up against his jugular vein and said” Now feed from my vein so that we may become one”. With that Pea lifted her head opened her mouth and struck Wrath hard. When Pea struck Wrath a force of raw energy and light emitted from them that was so strong it shook the house foundation and blew the men up against the basement walls. Wrath’s iridescent eyes were glowing at this point and he looked massive. Pea drank with great pulls she could instantly feel Wrath’s blood coursing through her veins. She took as much of Wrath’s blood as her belly could hold, released his neck, licked the wounds and passed out in his arms. Once Pea passed out Wrath stood cradling her close to his chest... looked around at his men whose eyes were also glowing and gave two orders. Rhage & Z grabbed the chest At the foot of the bed and let’s move out NOW! Butch hit the stairs first followed by Rhage & Z carrying the chest then Wrath carrying Pea after him Tohr, Vishous and Phury. When they got to the top of the stairs Quinn, John & Balathzar had recovered from the house shacking and were ready to lead the way back out. The force of energy that came out of Wrath and Pea had set off car alarms and had dogs barking & howling up and down the block. Xcor radioed to V we need to move now my guys smell trouble. Roger that let’s move guys everyone keep your eyes open. Butch, Tohr , Wrath & Pea were inside the ESV in under 30 seconds. V & Phury took Peas Bentayga and Everyone else loaded back into the same vehicles they arrived in. Just as they were leaving Pea came too this time she was able to open her eyes... Wrath tilted his head to one side again and spoke “don’t try to think just feed from me my Queen”... again Pea couldn’t control her hunger she struck Wrath’s vein hard again and took everything he had to offer. This time Wrath tried to brace himself for it but it was no use as soon as Pea struck his vein the force of raw energy shot from between them and this time they blew the transformer at the end of the block. Butch put on the high beams and followed Quinn out. Pea released Wrath after a few pulls completely satisfied. She closed her eyes and let sleep take her. When they got to the end of the block Wrath said to Havers, she has to go to Havers. Tohr radioed the change to everyone and Butch made the left to head over to Havers. Vishous went ahead and called into the clinic to reserve the private suite that was meant for exclusive clients like them. Wrath stayed there when he was shot rescuing Beth and then Butch had stayed there when the Omega got ahold of him. Now they needed it again this time for Pea. Havers would have questions as he usually does however this time Wrath was there to do the talking. The ESV pulled up to the clinic Ehlena and Havers nurse Julie were already standing outside under the breezeway waiting with a wheelchair. Julie was a trained professional and had been exposed to many different types Of people working in the clinic. Members of the glymera, older aristocratics, government officials but never the King. She tried her best to keep her composure when Tohr swung open the door to ESV hopped out walked to the back door and opened it. However inside she wanted to jump up and down and scream as if she was at a Beyoncé concert. The King emerged from the back seat and he was massive. Aah follow me your highness... Julie turned the wheelchair around and quickly walked back up the breezeway. They walked through private entrance, entered the hall passed through a door label Janitors closet, once they got in there Wrath had to turn sideways to pass through the air tunnel holding Pea. In the room Wrath carefully placed Pea on the gurney and stepped out of the way. Ehlena quickly took Peas vitals while Julie grabbed the needle and tubbing to start an IV. We are going to start her on some fluids Dr. Havers will be in shortly. Where is he now? He is finishing up with a surgery then he will be right over. Wrath turned to Ehlena and said I can not wait call me when he comes in and then walked back out. Pea felt the slight sting and the cold fluids going into her vein, her body had taken a real beating and she needed rest. Ehlena and Julie worked together to unwrap Pea out of the sheet and remove her bathrob and put it in the dirty laundry basket. They put a hospital gown on her and began to chart all of her basic info. Julie wanted ask Ehlena who this women was but she didn’t want to overstep. Maybe Dr. Havers would be able to fill her in, he was a part of the glymera surely he would know who this women was. Wrath and Tohr entered the hall to exit the building they met Lassiter walking in. Don’t worry I’m just here to sit with her. Are you sure that you want to do that? Yea, I owe her. Lassiter entered the same doorway that he saw Wrath and Tohr come out of. He walked by the monitors then entered the air shower. When he got into Peas room he was greeted by Ehlena and another nurse. Before she could ask him any questions he quickly told her that the king ordered him to stay with the patient. Ehlena followed up with “he’s apart of the kings private staff it’s fine” ... When they both left Lassiter went and stood by Peas beside. The transition hadn’t really changed her much that he could see well except for fangs of course but you couldn’t see those. He whispered to himself, You are something special aren’t you? Then he took a step back and went to sit in the recliner in the corner found the remote and turned on tv. Let’s see what’s on the boob tube.

It had been a long time since Havers received a call from the Brotherhood requesting his assistance. He wanted to be there to when they arrived however he was smack dab in the middle of another surgery. It looked like someone took a sling blade to this poor guys chest and abdomen. The brother Vishous had informed him that there would be someone coming from the kings private staff to assist with this patient. He finished up the surgery which turned out to be an intensive 5 hour ordeal, then while he was on his way to his office to change a code Blue came in. and that sent right back in the OR for another 4 hour surgery. When he was finally able to leave there, he went to his office changed out of his OR scrubs took a quick shower to refresh himself, dressed in his normal attire. Grabbed his lab coat and headed towards the private suite. As he passed by the nurses station he saw Ehlena sitting with Julie and invited her to come along with him that way she could chart while he examined the patient. When they entered the little room Havers checked the monitors and could see there was someone sitting with patient. He reviewed the notes taken when the patient was triaged by Julie, it appeared to be a normal transition nothing major he passed it off to Ehlena and started to get dressed to go through walk through the air tunnel. Havers opened the door to the Air Tunnel an was greeted by a tall man with piercings and black/blonde hair. The man was apparently introducing himself but Havers couldn’t concentrate because there was an aroma in the room that was absolutely devine. It smelled like shea butter, winterberries and peppermint he knew he should be focusing on what this man was saying, as he is a member of the Kings staff. But he was too intoxicated by the lovely scent, ... I’m merely here to sit with patient, per the Kings orders. Havers nodded his head yes in response to the gentleman then stepped around him so that he could get a view of his patient. The patient lying before him i