Fatal Attraction (Part 2a)
Title: Fatal Attraction
Author: VampireMadonna
Pairing: YunJae
Rating: NC-17
Length: Two-shot
Summary: Jaejoong is an assassin: Yunho, his target. But what happens when the hunter falls for his charming prey?
N/B: Inspired by, but not based on, the character of YeoWoon from Warrior Baek Dong Soo.
That he was detained as soon as he entered the gates of the compound was no surprise. He’d expected it and his brothers did not disappoint. Two of them appeared just behind him, flanking him on each side, following silently as he made his way towards the main building. The brief look he got of their faces showed nothing, not a hint of emotion. They were merely soldiers following orders.
He was thankful for that, at least. Their impassive faces made what awaited him less frightening.
The trio walked into the building, down the long halls, through several corridors before coming to a stop outside of two huge, thick, wooden black doors. The ancient carvings were sacred symbols of the clan, what it stood for. Another reminder of his failure.
The doors opened inward and he walked in, his guards still behind him. He walked down the center of the large room, the ceremonial hall. It was where he and his brothers had been initiated…and where his death sentence would be passed. There were stern, stiff black-robed figures on each side as he made his way across the room but he looked at none of them. His gaze was focused on the frighteningly majestic man seated at the throne directly in front of him.
Master.
He was that…and so much more.
He stopped a respectable distance away and bowed his head low in reverence. After a few seconds, he straightened but kept his eyes lowered respectfully.
Strong, heavy hands pressed on his shoulders until he buckled to his knees but he kept his back straight, head bowed.
“What do you have to say for yourself?”
The voice was gruff, harsh and angry.
What did he have to say? What could he say? There was no excuse for his actions, or inaction rather, and he wouldn’t dishonor himself further by making one. He kept his eyes lowered and his mouth shut as his resolve strengthened.
“So you’ll say nothing then?” He paused for a minute, before snapping, “Report.”
A voice spoke up behind Jaejoong. “He met the target at the designated meeting place, proceeded to the target’s home where he spent the night and left at 07:00 this morning. Upon his departure, it was discovered that the target is still very much alive.”
He wasn’t surprised that they knew. Of course they would. He’d most likely been monitored the minute he stepped foot outside the compound. It wasn’t normal procedure but it wasn’t that uncommon either. In the event of a high-risk mission, sometimes a back-up was sent, not to save the first assassin if he were to be harmed but to ensure that the mission was a success by any means necessary. If an assassin was hurt during the course of carrying out his mission and his wounds were too extensive, or would hamper the back-up in any way should he try to save him, the most he could hope for was that his brother would ease his suffering faster and less painfully than a natural death.
“Not only have you failed your mission but you defiled your body as well,” his Master swore, voice thundering throughout the chamber.
Jaejoong kept his gaze directed at the foot of the pedestal on which the throne rested, thus he didn’t see his Master’s gesture, only felt when the thin sweater he wore was ripped from his body.
He could feel it in the air then, the tension, disappointment, disgust and probably a hint of disbelief. In all the years that he’d been there, though a few brothers had failed and been dealt with, none had dishonored themselves the way he had. But the proof was there on his body for all to see, the evidence of what he’d shared with Yunho, what he’d allowed Yunho to do to him.
He could feel the waves of rage rolling off of the man before which he knelt. When his Master stood, he braced himself.
“You know what this means. You know what must be done.”
He stopped and for several long minutes, silence hung in the air. The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. When his Master finally spoke again, he shocked all present, none more so than Jaejoong.
“You shall endure the lashes of each one of your brothers for the shame you’ve brought upon yourself and this clan.”
Jaejoong’s head snapped up, his eyes meeting his Master’s for the first time he’d entered the room. He could hear the murmurs of surprise around him, feel it in the lessening of the pressure of the hands on his shoulders.
“Afterwards, you shall be confined for ten days, during which I expect you to reflect upon your actions.” His Master’s eyes left his as he nodded to someone behind him. “Bring the whip.”
He was still stunned when the first stroke fell across his back but by the second and third, his mind finally absorbed what had happened. He’d been given a reprieve. By some stroke of luck, some miracle, his life had been spared. If lashes and solitary were to be his payment for the wrong he’d committed then he’d gladly endure it.
They hurt, the lashes, but he was used to pain. It was the first time his body had been marred in any way - there were thousands of ways to inflict pain without leaving a single scar - but the marks would serve as a reminder of how he’d failed his clan and ensure that he never did again.
***********************
Jaejoong walked down the long, dark hallway, his movements quiet as a ghost.
He knew where he was going, the blueprints of the luxury apartment were, as usual, imprinted on his brain. Though it was dark, his night vision had been well honed through his training so he had no problem seeing where he was going. The master suite was at the end of this very hall. Inside the bedroom, the target and his new wife were already asleep. The security outside the apartment had been taken care of, both now propped against the wall of the apartment’s entrance hall: one dead, one injured but spared for his part in providing information on the target. He would be well-compensated for his pain and suffering once Jaejoong had succeeded.
There was no security of the human persuasion inside of the apartment but certain rooms had expensive, top-of-the-line locks, including the master suite. He’d been given the code but had accessed it remotely nonetheless so that when the police investigated, no trails would lead back to the lone survivor of the “tragedy”.
Placing his hand on the unsecured doorknob, he gently pushed down and forward, keeping hold of the handle until the door touched the wall behind it. He moved stealthily across the living area to the bedroom door, which boasted another set of automatic, coded locks. The security was, unfortunately, not privy to the code for this particular room so Jaejoong set about disarming it manually.
The man had to be up to no good to be this paranoid, he thought as he deftly worked to decode the lock. He only hoped that it wasn’t the kind that beeped when it was unlocked. There was nothing he could do then. It was easier all around if they didn’t see him coming. Cleaner too.
Finally, he breathed a sigh of relief when the correct sequence of numbers flashed on his jammer and the light on the lock turned green, minus the unwanted accompanying beep. He put away his tools, took out his knife and pushed the door open, revealing his target.
He was lying on the left side of the bed on his back, a sleep-mask covering his eyes. His pretty young wife lay on the right side in the same position, minus the sleep-mask. He strode around the bed to the target’s side and stood over him.
Oh YongHwak, age 54. Respectable businessman by day, purveyor of flesh by night. Head of the biggest human-trafficking ring in the city.
Jaejoong would feel no remorse for taking this life.
In one swift motion, he spun his knife arm out, flicked the blade to its full length and arced downward, stabbing the blade deep into Oh YongHwak’s black heart. He felt the resistance of flesh, tissue and muscle but pushed through until the knife was embedded to the hilt. The body lurched upward upon the blade’s entry, then settled almost as quickly.
He never woke up.
Jaejoong withdrew the blade, wiped it clean on the blanket covering the target, then moved to the other side of the bed. He paused again to look at his target before the kill.
Oh YongHwak had been the primary target but his wife, Heo Minji was the secondary target.
Is she one of them?, he wondered. One of the lost souls who’d been stolen from their families by cruel, evil men… Or perhaps sold to the highest bidder. Maybe he’d taken a liking to her or she’d played her cards right and gotten out of the lifestyle. Or maybe she was the pampered, well-bred daughter of a rich business partner. Either way, he was all but certain that she had nothing to do with her husband’s business, that she was innocent of his crimes. The reason she’d been added to the hit-list was because of him.
His Master was testing him, he was sure of it. He’d broken his trust, the trust of his brothers, and he had to earn it back. Lashes and solitary meant nothing, changed nothing. He was still a failure, just one who’d been lucky enough to get a second chance.
Just then, Heo Minji’s lids fluttered open and he found himself gazing into a pair of confused, dark eyes.
She couldn’t see his face so he wasn’t worried. The mask he wore covered everything but his eyes and they’d never met before so there was no way she could recognize him by that alone. Besides, she was going to be dead soon anyway.
She continued to stare up at him silently and he couldn’t help but wonder what was going through her mind. The room was almost pitch black so she probably couldn’t see much but she could see him, feel him, know that he was a threat.
Perhaps it was a combination of fear and the haze of sleep, but when he raised a finger to his lips in a gesture for her not to make a sound, she nodded. He placed one hand gently over her mouth, brought his knife hand up, twisted his wrist so that the thin, sharp blade faced outward and, without breaking eye-contact, sliced deeply across her throat, from one ear to the other.
Her eyes widened then as realization hit. Her hands came up to his wrist, trying to dislodge the hand over her mouth as she gurgled, blood gushing from the wound, but her small body was already losing strength. She bucked off the bed, her eyes so wide and bulging, the veins so prominent, that he thought they might pop out of their sockets. However, after a minute of struggling, her body went lax.
She died gazing up at him, her eyes still locked with his. He removed his hand from her mouth, and tenderly closed her eyelids. He felt a stab of regret and sadness but pushed it aside. He’d done what he’d been sent to do. He wiped her blood on the blanket like he had with her husband, slipped it into his pocket and strode out of the room.
He made his way through the apartment but instead of going out the way he came in, he went into the small storage room at the back of the apartment. He opened the window, pulled himself up so that he was sitting on the sill and jumped the four floors to the open garbage recycler below.
He landed on a cloud of garbage bags. They were filled with shredded paper and mattress sponge, he knew, since one of the trainees had placed them there earlier in the evening.
He hopped out and sidled down the narrow alley, disappearing into the surrounding darkness.
They were gathered in what passed for a conference room. It was smaller than the ceremonial chamber, brighter. There were kneeling mats for the brothers and a table and chair for the Master. There was never a moment where they weren’t reminded that he was in charge, that he reigned supreme.
He was handing out assignments, crossing off those that had already been completed.
“Jaejoong.”
He looked up when his name was called, his eyes momentarily meeting the Master’s hard, black ones.
“Were there any complications?”
“No sir,” he replied softly, bowing slightly.
The Master nodded and moved on. When he’d finished double-checking and assigning new missions, he closed the book in front of him, clasping his hands atop it.
“There remains only one matter of unfinished business, that of Jung Yunho.”
Jaejoong froze but kept his head down. Even the slightest reaction would betray his feelings. He’d been waiting for this. He’d known that his failure meant someone else would be sent to finish the job, he was only surprised it had taken this long.
“YeoWoon…”
“I request permission to proceed with this mission,” Jaejoong interrupted.
Not a soul seemed to be breathing, so thick was the tense silence in the room.
After a minute, his Master asked, “How do we know you won’t fail yet again?”
“Because I can’t.” Jaejoong raised his head and met those fierce dark eyes. “I won’t.” His voice was filled with steely determination, his eyes ablaze with intent.
His Master considered him for a moment as if he was working it through in his head.
Finally, he nodded. “So be it. This is your last chance, Jaejoong. Failure will not be tolerated a second time.”
Jaejoong bowed deeply.
He’d been mentally preparing for this since he’d been confined. Now the time had come. One thing was certain: when next he left Jung Yunho, he’d either be dead, or Jaejoong would.
He walked into the pub, his eyes immediately going to Yunho’s spot at the bar.
There he was, with his friend yet again. They were talking, laughing, much like they had been that day a month ago. He took a moment to study Yunho before approaching him. He looked the same, why shouldn’t he? He was still handsome, full of life and energy. It was a shame that light had to be snuffed out.
Suddenly, as if feeling his gaze, Yunho turned in his direction and their eyes met. He saw Yunho’s widen in surprise but before Jaejoong could move, Yunho jumped off his stool, said something to his friend over his shoulder, and appeared at Jaejoong’s side.
He stared at him intensely, silently for a long time, which had Jaejoong shifting uncomfortably on his feet, color leaching into his cheeks.
“Where were you?” Yunho finally asked.
Jaejoong’s eyes widened in surprise. “What?”
Yunho gripped his elbow and pulled him into a dark corner near the entrance.
“I looked for you every day, waited for hours hoping you’d show up.” His eyes searched Jaejoong’s as he spoke. “You left without a word, no number. When I woke up and my guards said they hadn’t seen you leave, I worried that something had happened to you.”
Jaejoong’s flush deepened. This was unexpected. He’d never thought that Yunho would have wanted to see him again, much less for worrying about him. Yunho had been gentle, caring and kind during their encounter but he’d assumed that he would become just another notch in his bedpost. Wasn’t that how it was done?
Apparently, he’d been wrong.
“I went down the fire-escape,” he explained lamely.
Yunho shook him slightly. “Why would you do that? You could’ve been hurt.”
Not really.
He couldn’t answer the question honestly but he didn’t want to lie so he said nothing.
Yunho looked around at the crowded bar before refocusing on Jaejoong. “Listen…can we go somewhere and talk?”
“Is that all you want to do? Talk?”
Where had that come from?, Jaejoong thought in amazement. Words like that, the meaning behind it, had never come out of his mouth in his entire life.
But as he looked up at Yunho, saw his [Yunho’s] eyes roam over his face and his nostrils flare, he knew exactly what he was thinking and felt an answering tug low in his belly. He cursed himself. He couldn’t risk a repeat of their last time together.
Without answering, Yunho pulled Jaejoong towards the same exit they’d gone out the last time and, unsurprisingly, his bodyguards were there waiting with his car.
Jaejoong went along with it, letting Yunho lead like he had the first time. He didn’t even pull his hand away when Yunho kept a hold of it during the entire silent car ride to his apartment. Ten minutes later they were standing outside Yunho’s apartment while a bodyguard unlocked the door. As soon as it was open, Yunho pulled Jaejoong in and slammed the door in the guards’ faces.
“Talk,” Yunho demanded roughly. “Where have you been all this time? I looked everywhere for you. I even asked…” He laughed self-deprecatingly. “I had my guards run a search on all the Jaejoongs in the area.”
Why?, Jaejoong wanted to know. Why go to such lengths just for him?
“Even without a surname, I discovered that there aren’t that many but none of them were you. Why did you leave so suddenly? I thought…”
Loud dance music burst from Yunho’s jeans pocket and he swore as he pulled his phone out, flipping it open and grunting a harsh “hello.”
He listened for a second then said, “Dad, I’m a little busy right now.” He listened some more, swore beneath his breath and walked over to the window.
Hearing that it was his father, Jaejoong waited until Yunho’s back was turned then slowly made his way down the hall to the bedroom.
The curtains over the terrace doors were open this time, allowing the moonlight to spill in unchecked. He didn’t know why he liked the view so much. It didn’t overlook anything except the building next door and the alleyway below but it was so high up that it made the moon look like it was only an arm’s length away. Plus, the terrace itself was pretty, with its wrought iron railing, bamboo furniture and glass-topped table. It would be the perfect place for a nightcap or breakfast.
It saddened him a little that he would never find out.
Pushing the sentimentalism aside, he slipped his hand into his pocket and retrieved his knife. He flicked it open to its full length and stared down at it, fascinated by the way the moonlight refracted off the polished blade. Pretty soon its smooth, unblemished beauty would be stained with Yunho’s blood.
He’d be lying if he said he was happy about it. He didn’t want to kill Yunho but there was no way around it. It was the only way to save himself, to regain his honor. And it was better if he did it. He would make it quick and as painless as possible. If he failed and one of his brothers came in his place, they just might make Yunho suffer for his part in Jaejoong’s fall from grace. He would do anything to save Yunho from that.
Maybe it would be better if he waited until Yunho started to…
He blushed at the thought, shivers of excitement and anticipation echoing throughout his body as the memory of Yunho’s hands on him, his movements inside him and the immense pleasure he’d felt came rushing back. It would do no good to think about those things, he reminded himself. It would be easier if Yunho was distracted, that much was true, but although he was determined to succeed this time, he didn’t trust himself to do the job once Yunho got his hands on him. No, this way was best. Strengthening his resolve, his eyes narrowed determinedly as he waited to strike.
Suddenly, he felt hands on his waist and the contact was so unexpected, he jumped and spun around, his knife hand automatically raising to chest level, blade pointed outwards.
“What the…”
Eyes wide with surprise, Yunho glanced down at his chest where blood began to seep through his shirt around the area where the thin blade projected out of his skin. He jumped backwards across the room, hand raising to clutch the shallow wound.
Jaejoong stood frozen, all color drained from his face. He’d been so prepared this time, so sure that he could do it to redeem himself, but as he stared in horror at Yunho, seeing his life-blood staining his shirt, the reality of the situation was more than he’d bargained for.
He couldn’t do it, he realized. He couldn’t kill him, he never could have.
“Who are you?” Yunho choked.
He looked at Jaejoong as if he were a stranger. He was still beautiful to him, hauntingly so, but his survival instincts screamed that there was something very wrong with the boy who had enchanted him. The fact that he stood there with a knife in his hand only confirmed it. It all made sense now: the detachment, the stillness, constant awareness. For the first time, Yunho realized that he was staring into the beautiful face of certain death.
Part 2b
Author: VampireMadonna
Pairing: YunJae
Rating: NC-17
Length: Two-shot
Summary: Jaejoong is an assassin: Yunho, his target. But what happens when the hunter falls for his charming prey?
N/B: Inspired by, but not based on, the character of YeoWoon from Warrior Baek Dong Soo.
That he was detained as soon as he entered the gates of the compound was no surprise. He’d expected it and his brothers did not disappoint. Two of them appeared just behind him, flanking him on each side, following silently as he made his way towards the main building. The brief look he got of their faces showed nothing, not a hint of emotion. They were merely soldiers following orders.
He was thankful for that, at least. Their impassive faces made what awaited him less frightening.
The trio walked into the building, down the long halls, through several corridors before coming to a stop outside of two huge, thick, wooden black doors. The ancient carvings were sacred symbols of the clan, what it stood for. Another reminder of his failure.
The doors opened inward and he walked in, his guards still behind him. He walked down the center of the large room, the ceremonial hall. It was where he and his brothers had been initiated…and where his death sentence would be passed. There were stern, stiff black-robed figures on each side as he made his way across the room but he looked at none of them. His gaze was focused on the frighteningly majestic man seated at the throne directly in front of him.
Master.
He was that…and so much more.
He stopped a respectable distance away and bowed his head low in reverence. After a few seconds, he straightened but kept his eyes lowered respectfully.
Strong, heavy hands pressed on his shoulders until he buckled to his knees but he kept his back straight, head bowed.
“What do you have to say for yourself?”
The voice was gruff, harsh and angry.
What did he have to say? What could he say? There was no excuse for his actions, or inaction rather, and he wouldn’t dishonor himself further by making one. He kept his eyes lowered and his mouth shut as his resolve strengthened.
“So you’ll say nothing then?” He paused for a minute, before snapping, “Report.”
A voice spoke up behind Jaejoong. “He met the target at the designated meeting place, proceeded to the target’s home where he spent the night and left at 07:00 this morning. Upon his departure, it was discovered that the target is still very much alive.”
He wasn’t surprised that they knew. Of course they would. He’d most likely been monitored the minute he stepped foot outside the compound. It wasn’t normal procedure but it wasn’t that uncommon either. In the event of a high-risk mission, sometimes a back-up was sent, not to save the first assassin if he were to be harmed but to ensure that the mission was a success by any means necessary. If an assassin was hurt during the course of carrying out his mission and his wounds were too extensive, or would hamper the back-up in any way should he try to save him, the most he could hope for was that his brother would ease his suffering faster and less painfully than a natural death.
“Not only have you failed your mission but you defiled your body as well,” his Master swore, voice thundering throughout the chamber.
Jaejoong kept his gaze directed at the foot of the pedestal on which the throne rested, thus he didn’t see his Master’s gesture, only felt when the thin sweater he wore was ripped from his body.
He could feel it in the air then, the tension, disappointment, disgust and probably a hint of disbelief. In all the years that he’d been there, though a few brothers had failed and been dealt with, none had dishonored themselves the way he had. But the proof was there on his body for all to see, the evidence of what he’d shared with Yunho, what he’d allowed Yunho to do to him.
He could feel the waves of rage rolling off of the man before which he knelt. When his Master stood, he braced himself.
“You know what this means. You know what must be done.”
He stopped and for several long minutes, silence hung in the air. The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. When his Master finally spoke again, he shocked all present, none more so than Jaejoong.
“You shall endure the lashes of each one of your brothers for the shame you’ve brought upon yourself and this clan.”
Jaejoong’s head snapped up, his eyes meeting his Master’s for the first time he’d entered the room. He could hear the murmurs of surprise around him, feel it in the lessening of the pressure of the hands on his shoulders.
“Afterwards, you shall be confined for ten days, during which I expect you to reflect upon your actions.” His Master’s eyes left his as he nodded to someone behind him. “Bring the whip.”
He was still stunned when the first stroke fell across his back but by the second and third, his mind finally absorbed what had happened. He’d been given a reprieve. By some stroke of luck, some miracle, his life had been spared. If lashes and solitary were to be his payment for the wrong he’d committed then he’d gladly endure it.
They hurt, the lashes, but he was used to pain. It was the first time his body had been marred in any way - there were thousands of ways to inflict pain without leaving a single scar - but the marks would serve as a reminder of how he’d failed his clan and ensure that he never did again.
***********************
Jaejoong walked down the long, dark hallway, his movements quiet as a ghost.
He knew where he was going, the blueprints of the luxury apartment were, as usual, imprinted on his brain. Though it was dark, his night vision had been well honed through his training so he had no problem seeing where he was going. The master suite was at the end of this very hall. Inside the bedroom, the target and his new wife were already asleep. The security outside the apartment had been taken care of, both now propped against the wall of the apartment’s entrance hall: one dead, one injured but spared for his part in providing information on the target. He would be well-compensated for his pain and suffering once Jaejoong had succeeded.
There was no security of the human persuasion inside of the apartment but certain rooms had expensive, top-of-the-line locks, including the master suite. He’d been given the code but had accessed it remotely nonetheless so that when the police investigated, no trails would lead back to the lone survivor of the “tragedy”.
Placing his hand on the unsecured doorknob, he gently pushed down and forward, keeping hold of the handle until the door touched the wall behind it. He moved stealthily across the living area to the bedroom door, which boasted another set of automatic, coded locks. The security was, unfortunately, not privy to the code for this particular room so Jaejoong set about disarming it manually.
The man had to be up to no good to be this paranoid, he thought as he deftly worked to decode the lock. He only hoped that it wasn’t the kind that beeped when it was unlocked. There was nothing he could do then. It was easier all around if they didn’t see him coming. Cleaner too.
Finally, he breathed a sigh of relief when the correct sequence of numbers flashed on his jammer and the light on the lock turned green, minus the unwanted accompanying beep. He put away his tools, took out his knife and pushed the door open, revealing his target.
He was lying on the left side of the bed on his back, a sleep-mask covering his eyes. His pretty young wife lay on the right side in the same position, minus the sleep-mask. He strode around the bed to the target’s side and stood over him.
Oh YongHwak, age 54. Respectable businessman by day, purveyor of flesh by night. Head of the biggest human-trafficking ring in the city.
Jaejoong would feel no remorse for taking this life.
In one swift motion, he spun his knife arm out, flicked the blade to its full length and arced downward, stabbing the blade deep into Oh YongHwak’s black heart. He felt the resistance of flesh, tissue and muscle but pushed through until the knife was embedded to the hilt. The body lurched upward upon the blade’s entry, then settled almost as quickly.
He never woke up.
Jaejoong withdrew the blade, wiped it clean on the blanket covering the target, then moved to the other side of the bed. He paused again to look at his target before the kill.
Oh YongHwak had been the primary target but his wife, Heo Minji was the secondary target.
Is she one of them?, he wondered. One of the lost souls who’d been stolen from their families by cruel, evil men… Or perhaps sold to the highest bidder. Maybe he’d taken a liking to her or she’d played her cards right and gotten out of the lifestyle. Or maybe she was the pampered, well-bred daughter of a rich business partner. Either way, he was all but certain that she had nothing to do with her husband’s business, that she was innocent of his crimes. The reason she’d been added to the hit-list was because of him.
His Master was testing him, he was sure of it. He’d broken his trust, the trust of his brothers, and he had to earn it back. Lashes and solitary meant nothing, changed nothing. He was still a failure, just one who’d been lucky enough to get a second chance.
Just then, Heo Minji’s lids fluttered open and he found himself gazing into a pair of confused, dark eyes.
She couldn’t see his face so he wasn’t worried. The mask he wore covered everything but his eyes and they’d never met before so there was no way she could recognize him by that alone. Besides, she was going to be dead soon anyway.
She continued to stare up at him silently and he couldn’t help but wonder what was going through her mind. The room was almost pitch black so she probably couldn’t see much but she could see him, feel him, know that he was a threat.
Perhaps it was a combination of fear and the haze of sleep, but when he raised a finger to his lips in a gesture for her not to make a sound, she nodded. He placed one hand gently over her mouth, brought his knife hand up, twisted his wrist so that the thin, sharp blade faced outward and, without breaking eye-contact, sliced deeply across her throat, from one ear to the other.
Her eyes widened then as realization hit. Her hands came up to his wrist, trying to dislodge the hand over her mouth as she gurgled, blood gushing from the wound, but her small body was already losing strength. She bucked off the bed, her eyes so wide and bulging, the veins so prominent, that he thought they might pop out of their sockets. However, after a minute of struggling, her body went lax.
She died gazing up at him, her eyes still locked with his. He removed his hand from her mouth, and tenderly closed her eyelids. He felt a stab of regret and sadness but pushed it aside. He’d done what he’d been sent to do. He wiped her blood on the blanket like he had with her husband, slipped it into his pocket and strode out of the room.
He made his way through the apartment but instead of going out the way he came in, he went into the small storage room at the back of the apartment. He opened the window, pulled himself up so that he was sitting on the sill and jumped the four floors to the open garbage recycler below.
He landed on a cloud of garbage bags. They were filled with shredded paper and mattress sponge, he knew, since one of the trainees had placed them there earlier in the evening.
He hopped out and sidled down the narrow alley, disappearing into the surrounding darkness.
They were gathered in what passed for a conference room. It was smaller than the ceremonial chamber, brighter. There were kneeling mats for the brothers and a table and chair for the Master. There was never a moment where they weren’t reminded that he was in charge, that he reigned supreme.
He was handing out assignments, crossing off those that had already been completed.
“Jaejoong.”
He looked up when his name was called, his eyes momentarily meeting the Master’s hard, black ones.
“Were there any complications?”
“No sir,” he replied softly, bowing slightly.
The Master nodded and moved on. When he’d finished double-checking and assigning new missions, he closed the book in front of him, clasping his hands atop it.
“There remains only one matter of unfinished business, that of Jung Yunho.”
Jaejoong froze but kept his head down. Even the slightest reaction would betray his feelings. He’d been waiting for this. He’d known that his failure meant someone else would be sent to finish the job, he was only surprised it had taken this long.
“YeoWoon…”
“I request permission to proceed with this mission,” Jaejoong interrupted.
Not a soul seemed to be breathing, so thick was the tense silence in the room.
After a minute, his Master asked, “How do we know you won’t fail yet again?”
“Because I can’t.” Jaejoong raised his head and met those fierce dark eyes. “I won’t.” His voice was filled with steely determination, his eyes ablaze with intent.
His Master considered him for a moment as if he was working it through in his head.
Finally, he nodded. “So be it. This is your last chance, Jaejoong. Failure will not be tolerated a second time.”
Jaejoong bowed deeply.
He’d been mentally preparing for this since he’d been confined. Now the time had come. One thing was certain: when next he left Jung Yunho, he’d either be dead, or Jaejoong would.
He walked into the pub, his eyes immediately going to Yunho’s spot at the bar.
There he was, with his friend yet again. They were talking, laughing, much like they had been that day a month ago. He took a moment to study Yunho before approaching him. He looked the same, why shouldn’t he? He was still handsome, full of life and energy. It was a shame that light had to be snuffed out.
Suddenly, as if feeling his gaze, Yunho turned in his direction and their eyes met. He saw Yunho’s widen in surprise but before Jaejoong could move, Yunho jumped off his stool, said something to his friend over his shoulder, and appeared at Jaejoong’s side.
He stared at him intensely, silently for a long time, which had Jaejoong shifting uncomfortably on his feet, color leaching into his cheeks.
“Where were you?” Yunho finally asked.
Jaejoong’s eyes widened in surprise. “What?”
Yunho gripped his elbow and pulled him into a dark corner near the entrance.
“I looked for you every day, waited for hours hoping you’d show up.” His eyes searched Jaejoong’s as he spoke. “You left without a word, no number. When I woke up and my guards said they hadn’t seen you leave, I worried that something had happened to you.”
Jaejoong’s flush deepened. This was unexpected. He’d never thought that Yunho would have wanted to see him again, much less for worrying about him. Yunho had been gentle, caring and kind during their encounter but he’d assumed that he would become just another notch in his bedpost. Wasn’t that how it was done?
Apparently, he’d been wrong.
“I went down the fire-escape,” he explained lamely.
Yunho shook him slightly. “Why would you do that? You could’ve been hurt.”
Not really.
He couldn’t answer the question honestly but he didn’t want to lie so he said nothing.
Yunho looked around at the crowded bar before refocusing on Jaejoong. “Listen…can we go somewhere and talk?”
“Is that all you want to do? Talk?”
Where had that come from?, Jaejoong thought in amazement. Words like that, the meaning behind it, had never come out of his mouth in his entire life.
But as he looked up at Yunho, saw his [Yunho’s] eyes roam over his face and his nostrils flare, he knew exactly what he was thinking and felt an answering tug low in his belly. He cursed himself. He couldn’t risk a repeat of their last time together.
Without answering, Yunho pulled Jaejoong towards the same exit they’d gone out the last time and, unsurprisingly, his bodyguards were there waiting with his car.
Jaejoong went along with it, letting Yunho lead like he had the first time. He didn’t even pull his hand away when Yunho kept a hold of it during the entire silent car ride to his apartment. Ten minutes later they were standing outside Yunho’s apartment while a bodyguard unlocked the door. As soon as it was open, Yunho pulled Jaejoong in and slammed the door in the guards’ faces.
“Talk,” Yunho demanded roughly. “Where have you been all this time? I looked everywhere for you. I even asked…” He laughed self-deprecatingly. “I had my guards run a search on all the Jaejoongs in the area.”
Why?, Jaejoong wanted to know. Why go to such lengths just for him?
“Even without a surname, I discovered that there aren’t that many but none of them were you. Why did you leave so suddenly? I thought…”
Loud dance music burst from Yunho’s jeans pocket and he swore as he pulled his phone out, flipping it open and grunting a harsh “hello.”
He listened for a second then said, “Dad, I’m a little busy right now.” He listened some more, swore beneath his breath and walked over to the window.
Hearing that it was his father, Jaejoong waited until Yunho’s back was turned then slowly made his way down the hall to the bedroom.
The curtains over the terrace doors were open this time, allowing the moonlight to spill in unchecked. He didn’t know why he liked the view so much. It didn’t overlook anything except the building next door and the alleyway below but it was so high up that it made the moon look like it was only an arm’s length away. Plus, the terrace itself was pretty, with its wrought iron railing, bamboo furniture and glass-topped table. It would be the perfect place for a nightcap or breakfast.
It saddened him a little that he would never find out.
Pushing the sentimentalism aside, he slipped his hand into his pocket and retrieved his knife. He flicked it open to its full length and stared down at it, fascinated by the way the moonlight refracted off the polished blade. Pretty soon its smooth, unblemished beauty would be stained with Yunho’s blood.
He’d be lying if he said he was happy about it. He didn’t want to kill Yunho but there was no way around it. It was the only way to save himself, to regain his honor. And it was better if he did it. He would make it quick and as painless as possible. If he failed and one of his brothers came in his place, they just might make Yunho suffer for his part in Jaejoong’s fall from grace. He would do anything to save Yunho from that.
Maybe it would be better if he waited until Yunho started to…
He blushed at the thought, shivers of excitement and anticipation echoing throughout his body as the memory of Yunho’s hands on him, his movements inside him and the immense pleasure he’d felt came rushing back. It would do no good to think about those things, he reminded himself. It would be easier if Yunho was distracted, that much was true, but although he was determined to succeed this time, he didn’t trust himself to do the job once Yunho got his hands on him. No, this way was best. Strengthening his resolve, his eyes narrowed determinedly as he waited to strike.
Suddenly, he felt hands on his waist and the contact was so unexpected, he jumped and spun around, his knife hand automatically raising to chest level, blade pointed outwards.
“What the…”
Eyes wide with surprise, Yunho glanced down at his chest where blood began to seep through his shirt around the area where the thin blade projected out of his skin. He jumped backwards across the room, hand raising to clutch the shallow wound.
Jaejoong stood frozen, all color drained from his face. He’d been so prepared this time, so sure that he could do it to redeem himself, but as he stared in horror at Yunho, seeing his life-blood staining his shirt, the reality of the situation was more than he’d bargained for.
He couldn’t do it, he realized. He couldn’t kill him, he never could have.
“Who are you?” Yunho choked.
He looked at Jaejoong as if he were a stranger. He was still beautiful to him, hauntingly so, but his survival instincts screamed that there was something very wrong with the boy who had enchanted him. The fact that he stood there with a knife in his hand only confirmed it. It all made sense now: the detachment, the stillness, constant awareness. For the first time, Yunho realized that he was staring into the beautiful face of certain death.
Part 2b