Chapter Text
Minho’s life had become a series of carefully managed disasters. It was always one thing after another. If it wasn’t a busted pipe in his apartment, then it was the bus being half an hour late when he was trying to get to work. If it wasn’t the omegas at his workplace calling his face “scary” and gossiping about him behind his back, then it was the various interns “accidentally” spilling their still-steaming coffees all over him after he got yet another department transfer.
If it wasn’t Subin deciding to leave his hands untied for his heat, then it was him getting thrown in the fucking trunk of a fancy sportscar while he was leaving her penthouse.
In this case, it was both, because of course it was.
He didn’t even have the energy to be properly upset about the whole thing. He barely had the energy to struggle when the two men, obscured by shadow, leapt out at him from the alley and grabbed him. The car skidded up to the sidewalk while they handcuffed him and taped shut his mouth, and then he was shoved into the trunk with an undeniably Alpha-growl of “Get in.”
The trunk was dark and the smell made him a bit nauseous. Other than that, it was surprisingly comfortable. He wasn’t too cramped, and it was padded with carpet. It might’ve just been his exhaustion, or maybe he was just crazy – but for just a moment, curled up in that damp, dark space, he thought that it wouldn’t make a horrible nest.
Then, the car hit a speedbump and made him whack his head pretty fucking hard, and he quickly changed his mind. He let out a muffled yell and kicked out at whatever he could. That irritated the sensitive, painful area between his legs, though, so he quickly gave up on that front. He’d read once in middle school that you could punch out the tail lights of a car to try and wave for help, but because of the fucking handcuffs, he couldn’t really maneuver his arms to reach.
Damn, he thought grumpily. I’m really getting kidnapped.
What did it say about him that he was more pissed off than scared?
The car continued driving for what felt like hours, though his sense of time is, admittedly, always pretty shitty after his heat. The ride gradually turned bumpier and they took fewer and fewer turns. Were they leaving the city? Shit – was he being murder kidnapped? This was bullshit!
It was a true testament to how godawful and exhausting his time with Subin was that he felt himself growing drowsy upon a long stretch of road. He often left her penthouse fearing that he would fall asleep on the walk home, but he didn’t realize that he could actually, genuinely fall asleep mid-kidnapping. He had half a mind to fight again the sleep tugging at him, but on the other hand… god, he was tired.
So tired….
…
“Shit – is he dead? Did he suffocate?”
It felt like he’d only blinked when a bright light stabbed into his eyes. He groaned in pain and tried to cover his head, but his arms felt like lead. Someone above him sighed heavily with relief, and then the light finally moved.
He blearily wrenched his eyes open as someone started manhandling him out of the trunk. They got his legs under him, but his knees buckled almost as soon as they tried to make him walk. One of them cursed quietly before grabbing his shoulders – painfully rough - and more-or-less carrying him along.
Minho couldn’t see much, which he quickly realized was because it was nighttime. The only light he could see was that of a flashlight pointed in front of them, illuminating the foliage and trees around them. And then, not long after that, it shone on a short gravel path that led up to a homey wooden cabin.
His kidnappers took him to a cabin in the woods. He could not be any less murdered if he tried.
He had four kidnappers, as far as he could tell. The two tall ones that had jumped him in the alley were the ones holding him up and dragging him to his death. Minho couldn’t really see their faces, too harshly shadowed in the night. He could tell, though, that the taller of the two had longer, darker hair than the other one’s red. A third one, of a similar height, walked in front and held the flashlight, while another much shorter one walked beside him, carrying – Minho’s brows raised once he noticed – an assault rifle. Minho couldn’t see their faces, either, since their backs were to him. He could just barely make out the lavender tint to the short gunman’s hair, though, which was absolutely delightful, as well as the closely cropped hair of the one with the flashlight.
All of them wore scent patches, too, unless they were just conveniently all betas. He supposed that wasn’t entirely impossible.
He wondered what he smelled like right now. It was almost impossible to gauge your own scent, and Subin had never made any comment on it throughout their entire “partnership.” Maybe he just smelled like her – it wasn’t like he’s had a chance to wash off her stench yet.
The four of them dragged him past the cabin, surprisingly enough. He understood soon enough, though, when he was brought behind the building. There were two wooden sheds situated in the backyard, and in between them, was an iron cellar door. Perfect for murdering.
Flashlight man pulled out several keys from his pocket and unlocked the multiple locks on the door. Minho thought it was a bit excessive, but it wasn’t like he was there to give his opinion on anything. The door was wrenched open with a crrrrreak straight from a horror movie. The inside was pitch black, and a gust of cold air hit him with a shiver. He let out a muffled protest that was summarily ignored as he was hauled down, down, down…
On the inside, he could only see whatever the flashlight’s light hit, which wasn’t a lot. His kidnappers were clearly familiar enough with the interior to move about sightless. He felt himself get pressed against a pillar of some sort, and then his hands were being uncuffed – only for his arms to get pulled painfully tight behind him and bound once more. The angle made him feel like his shoulders were about to pop out of his sockets, and the rope newly tied around his wrists felt tight enough to cut off his circulation.
And then something cold and metal was being clasped over his throat. He grunted, eyes wide yet seeing nothing, and tried in vain to squirm away. It was a losing battle, of course, and the metal collar locked on with a click. It was latched onto the pillar at his back, so he couldn’t move his head even a twitch. The edges bit into his neck – not enough to make him suffocate, but enough to let him know that he could.
And then – nothing. The flashlight disappeared. Footsteps got further away. Something heavy slammed shut further away, the sound echoing throughout the cellar.
Minho was left alone.
He didn’t know how long he stood there for, muscles burning and legs trembling. His hands had started buzzing with pins and needles awhile ago. He couldn’t quite feel his fingers. He’s so tired, so exhausted – he keeps nodding off only to be jolted awake by the collar cutting into his neck and cutting off his breath. He was already so sore and weak from his heat. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand there before his legs gave out entirely.
Thankfully (?) his ears pricked with the sound of the cellar door opening. Slow, measured steps found they way down. Then, a light was flicked on. The bright fluorescents after so long of darkness burned and made his already aching head pound something fierce. He groaned quietly and squeezed his eyes shut.
The newcomer huffed and approached. Before Minho could work up the will to open his eyes back again, the tape on his mouth was being ripped off. A hand grabbed his chin, the fingers digging into his jaw.
“Lee Minho,” a voice growled, lowly.
His throat was dryer than a desert. “Mnngh – not the actor, unfortunately…” Minho coughed weakly. His voice was hoarse and crackly. He wasn’t sure if it was from the collar or from his heat earlier.
He forced his eyes open. Everything blurred for a second before an unamused face came into view. Slicked back hair and a sharp jaw, a large nose and dark eyes, an incredibly muscular build – the man was wearing scent blockers, but everything about him just screamed Alpha. The man’s lips quirked into a frown. His grip on Minho’s jaw tightened slightly.
“You think you’re funny, do you?” He murmured. “Tch. We’ll see how far that attitude gets you.”
“S’gotten me this far, hasn’t it?” Minho muttered. He probably shouldn’t be talking back, now that he thought about it. There was no way he was getting out of this alive, though, good behavior or no – he might as well get bitchy with it.
The man rolled his eyes. Minho noticed that he was actually the taller of the two. This was far more amusing than it had any right to be.
“Do you know why you’re here, Minho?” The man asked. He stepped away and clasped his hands behind his back, shoulders straight, looking incredibly classy. He was dressed rather well, too, now that Minho looked – a plain white button up and clean black slacks, a leather jacket with rolled up sleeves on top of the whole thing.
Minho blinked blearily and hummed. “You saw how handsome I am and thought I simply must be some kind of celebrity you could ransom?” He hedged a guess. “I hate to break it to you, but I work in an office. There’s at least ten other people that could take my job if I disappeared.”
“Try again,” the man said, tapping a finger to his head. From his jacket pocket, he brought out a handful of small, paper squares.
He held one up to Minho’s eyes, and Minho was instantly disgusted. It was a graphic picture of a mutilated corpse. Blood and viscera surrounded the body, with bits of them looking almost bitten out and tossed aside. A huge chunk of the body’s throat was missing, leaving nothing but a bloody, meaty mess.
Minho’s stomach turned violently and he slammed his eyes shut. “Augh, what – what the fuck? What the hell is that? I don’t want to see that shit!” He complained. The man grabbed his chin again and he squinted his eyes open, meeting the other’s shockingly furious gaze.
“I’m not going to fall for that little act of yours, Minho,” the man growled. Before Minho could ask what the hell he meant by that, another photo was being held in front of his face. It was equally as disturbing as the last and made him sick to his stomach. After that was another photo, and then another, and then another – seven of the damn things one after another.
The man’s eyes never left his face, watching his every twitch in reaction. Minho couldn’t even find the strength to be angry. He was genuinely using all his willpower to not throw up.
“Why are you showing me this?” He asked, swallowing back the nausea. If he survived, he was going to get nightmares. Not of the kidnapping, but of the photos. “Why -?”
“Why are you acting so surprised to see them?” The man challenged. He put the photos away, thank god, but now loomed nearby, eyes hard and bright. “You’ve already seen all of these. Unless this disgust is just a cover up for your sick satisfaction?”
Minho stared at him uncomprehendingly. “What, pray tell, the fuck are you talking about?”
The man stared back. “You killed them. The sooner you confess, the sooner this ends.”
Maybe Minho was still in the throes of his heat. Maybe Subin had given him a little something extra to “”spice things up””. Maybe this was all just a fever dream, and he was going to wake up soon in Subin’s bathtub, watching the blood drain away with the icy shower spray.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Minho said, more sincere than he’s said anything in his entire life.
The man looked disappointed but not surprised. He sighed. “We found your DNA at the latest murder, Minho. Don’t play stupid.”
They what? Minho’s jaw dropped. What?
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he repeated. Then, “I’m pretty sure you’re not a cop.”
“You’re right, I’m not a cop,” the man said. He smiled. It was not a friendly smile. “A cop wouldn’t be able to do this.”
He punched Minho in the stomach. Instantly, his vision whited out with painpainpainpain. Distantly, he felt his legs give out. He couldn’t breathe – whether it was the pain or the collar or both, he couldn’t tell. He was dizzy with it, the whole room was spinning, his body was burning –
And then it was fading. Slowly, far, far too slowly, but it was fading. He was breathing again, barely, and as his vision returned and the room came into focus he saw that it was because the man was holding him up by his shirt, preventing him from choking. The man was distinctly unimpressed, glaring down at him.
The man leaned forward to whisper into his ear in a low voice that made goosebumps break out over his skin. “We already know you killed them, Minho. Where’s their money, hm? That’s all I want to know. Where did you put the money you stole from their accounts?”
Minho couldn’t speak if he wanted to. He just weakly shook his head. I don’t know, he wanted to scream, I didn’t do it, I don’t know.
The man tsked. “We’ll have to do this the hard way, won’t we?” He asked. Minho couldn’t hold back the whimper. The man looked vaguely disgusted by the sound. “Pathetic, really.”
Minho wasn’t sure if anything could really scare him anymore. For a long time, he thought he’d grown too calloused to be truly hurt or upset about things. He’s fallen into a routine these past few years, as rough as it was, and while it kept him alive, it definitely wasn’t easy. He was so sure that he’d become too jaded.
Now, though? He was very effectively proven wrong. He was terrified.
“Boom! Got an address,” Felix announced, smirking. He lounged on the couch, leaning against Hyunjin and typing away at his laptop. “’Dunno why it was so hard to track down.”
Hyunjin ran a hand through the other’s hair, making Felix sigh happily. A faint, relaxing aloe scent spread through the air as he practically melted into the older man.
Jisung, having just entered the room, immediately gravitated to the two. He leaned over the back of the couch to peek at Felix’s screen. On it, the visage of a by-now somewhat familiar man was shown, accompanied with various files and information about him. Jisung skimmed over Lee Minho’s information and hummed. “It took this long to get into his files?”
Felix pouted and readjusted his glasses. “Yeah. I mean, it wasn’t hard per se, but definitely harder than it had any right to be. He’s not a public figure, or related to any. There’s no reason for any of his stuff to be blocked off like that…” He trailed off, brow furrowing. Hyunjin mirrored his thoughtful look.
“Jinnie, is Chan done with today’s interrogation?” Jisung asked, reaching down to steal Felix’s glasses and plop them onto his own face. He did those solely to hear his indignant squawk. Hyunjin rolled his eyes and stole the glasses back, returning them to Felix.
“Nah, I don’t think so,” he said. He petted Felix’s head like he was a cat. “I think he’s going for a more drawn-out session today. He’s getting pretty sick of this guy.”
Secretly, Jisung was a little impressed with Lee Minho, even if he hadn’t met the man himself. In the grand scheme of things, it was such a little thing to keep secret – they already knew he’d killed all those people, all they wanted to know was what he did with the money from their bank accounts. If it wasn’t for Felix snooping into his bank to check his own account and finding it disappointingly empty, then they would’ve just killed him and not bothered with the whole thing. The victims’ families deserved access to their loved ones’ assets, though, no matter how small.
Lee Minho had been in their cellar for about a week now, and hasn’t given a single peep.
Jisung had never joined Chan on any of his interrogations, but he knew his Alpha could get intense. The fact that this random beta had the strength to not so much as confess to the murders they had DNA evidence of was incredible… Or, well, it would’ve been if he wasn’t a serial killer. With that context, it was actually a little scary.
He pushed himself off the back of the couch and rolled his shoulders. “Lixie, text me that address. I’ll drive over and snoop around.”
Felix raised an eyebrow at him. “…Without telling Chan?”
Jisung blew a raspberry, making the other snort. “He’s going to take forever. I’ll be quick, man. Prommy.”
“Prommy?” Hyunjin asked.
Felix groaned quietly while Jisung grinned. “It’s short for promise.”
“Oh.” Hyunjin blinked. “I don’t like that at all.”
“The sooner I get that address, the sooner I’ll leave ~” Jisung sang, batting his eyelashes cutely. His phone quickly pinged, and he smirked. “Pleasure doing business with you.”
He spun on his heel and went for the front door, blowing a kiss over his shoulder at the “Don’t come back!” and “I’m snitching on you!” yelled at him. He closed the door behind him and snickered. One day his packmates would realize that his annoying(ly loveable) charms were simply a strategy to get his way, but luckily, today was not that day.
Was it a bad idea to head into the city alone without Chan’s permission? Perhaps. They tried to make it a habit to only ever leave in pairs or more. Too many close calls, too near misses; It was just the way they functioned. There was an itch underneath Jisung’s skin, though – a pull on his instincts. It had taken a long time and a lot of support from his pack for him to trust his inner wolf, so whenever it decides to rear its head, he did his best to listen.
Right now, his wolf was telling him to dig deeper. It had stirred faintly when their police contact had given them the case file, and only grown more and more restless as the week progressed. He wasn’t sure if the others felt it too, and, frankly, he was a little afraid that they would tell him to just not worry about it.
So, he would take the reigns – just this once, though! He would go snoop around Lee Minho’s apartment, dig through the man’s things… Just enough to satiate his wolf. That was it.
He repeated this to himself throughout the long drive to the city. It was one of the few times he disparaged the fact that they built their pack grounds so far out, but it had been a safety precaution. His packmates called him at various times throughout the drive to express their irritation (Seungmin,) skepticism (Jeongin,) and concern (Changbin.) Chan never called, oddly enough, which either meant he was pissed pissed, or that he was still preoccupied with their “guest.”
Eventually, Jisung pulled up at a gas station nearby to where Lee Minho lived. He wasn’t stupid enough to park his car at the actual residence. Instead, he walked the rest of the way, feigning being on his phone to appear unremarkable to passersby.
Despite the fact that Lee Minho’s bank account was very sad to look at, he lived in a rather nice building. It was in a pricy part of town, tall and modern. Jisung noted with a quiet scoff that even the receptionist wore name-brand accessories. It was the kind of place that Jisung would’ve been tempted to burn to the ground as a kid.
No one paid him any attention as he took the stairs up to Lee Minho’s fourth floor apartment. He typed in the man’s security pin – it was his birthday, did he have any sense of security? – and slipped inside.
Almost immediately, he was assaulted by a foul odor. He gagged and covered his nose with his arm. His eyes watered at the stinging ammonia filling up the apartment. It was enough to make his stomach turn. What in the world -?!
His confusion quickly cleared into horror at the sound of several distant thumps throughout the apartment. They were immediately followed by tiny blurs dashing into the living room, yowling. Jisung’s eyes widened as they fell onto the three cats that began to crowd him, pawing at his legs and meowing pitifully.
“Oh, fuck – he had pets?!” Jisung whispered furiously to himself. Lee Minho had pets!? It’s been a week! Oh, god – they’ve been left alone for a week?
Was that what his wolf had been bothering him about? That he needed to get these animals out?
Jisung began shushing the cats gently, not that it did anything to quieten them down. Anxiety thrummed in his veins. He bit his lip. So, the foul smell throughout the place was more than likely their litter boxes. He could gather that much. Surely that wasn’t his first priority, though?
No, no – his first priority was food and water. He needed to get these babies fed and watered before anything else.
He nodded sharply to himself and marched into the kitchen. He fumbled through the cabinets for some bowls. Two large ones for water, and three small ones for food. He didn’t want the kitties to eat too much too fast and throw up, after all.
The cacophony of meows cut off like a switch as soon as he set the bowls of water down on the floor. Jisung’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. He dreaded to wonder how the cats had managed by themselves up until now.
He went searching for food, next, but that didn’t take nearly as long. There was a door slightly ajar next to the refrigerator. Opening it revealed a spacy, nearly empty pantry. Taking up most of its floor space was a giant bag of dry cat food tip, tipped over on its side, with a large hole in the side. Jisung relaxed marginally. At least they hadn’t been completely neglected…
He made a mental note to request that pet checks become routine whenever the pack decides to interrogate someone. He was debating whether or not to immediately text this revelation to the pack group chat when his ears prickled. He thought he’d imagined it at first, but then the cats also froze, their fur poofing up slowly.
Someone was trying to get into the apartment.
Jisung’s hand immediately flew to the concealed handgun at his thigh. After a split second of consideration, he made his decision. Lee Minho’s apartment was so atrociously empty that he suspected he could, in all seriousness, crawl up into the cabinets under the counter with no problem.
So, he did. He opened one at random and wiggled himself inside. It was dark and dusty and smelled like mildew, and he hit his head on the way inside, but he was more than able to stuff himself under the counter and shut the door with plenty of legroom. It was… a little depressing, actually, that someone with such a nice apartment could have so few possessions.
He heard the front door of the apartment swing open and held his breath. The intruders – Jisung heard at least two – cursed loudly.
“Fuck, it smells like shit in here – no way in hell it’s here,” one of them growled. Jisung’s interest was immediately piqued.
The other one, with a more feminine voice, groaned. “The cats are still here? Shit, there’s no way it would skip town without its cats, would it? Didn’t it hiss at the boss when she tried to give it an apartment that didn’t allow pets?”
The footsteps and voices got a bit quieter as the two went further into the apartment. In his hiding place, Jisung frowned. Were they… were they talking about Lee Minho? Why were they calling him an “it”? Who the hell were these people?
He carefully slipped his phone from his pocket and unlocked it, making sure to put it on silent and turn the brightness all the way down. He sent off a few rapid texts to Felix – Where did Lee Minho work? What known acquaintances did he have? How did he get this apartment? Why would there be people other than him breaking in?
Felix was rightfully freaking out in his inbox over the whole “there are other people in the apartment right now” situation, but Jisung quickly put a pin in that once the voices returned to the kitchen. They didn’t sound happy.
“It doesn’t look like anything’s missing apart from it. And its phone, I guess. Did it seriously leave?” The female intruder griped.
The other one sighed heavily. “I don’t see why it would? I checked with our mole, and there’s been no motion in the police department to mark it as a suspect. There’s no reason for it to get scared off like this, yet.”
The woman snorted. “Maybe it finally got smart and fucked off?”
Jisung risked a chance to crack open the cabinet door. He could barely see out of the slit, but made out the back of one of the intruders. They were dressed simply, but nicely – not at all like a generic goon. It was definitely someone with money, or at least someone pretending to be so in order to fit in with the rest of the building.
“Doubt it. If it was smart enough to run, then it’d be smart enough to know that it couldn’t,” the man said, sounding fed up. “Just – I don’t know. Go steal its toothbrush and get some hair from its hairbrush. Maybe if we leave some more DNA around the next debtor then it’ll get scared enough to go to the boss itself. If we have to actually search the city for it then I’ll be pissed.”
His jaw dropped. No way. Did they just -? Did that mean -?
“What about the cats?”
The man made a vague sound of disgust. “Fuck, I don’t care. Take ‘em, chuck ‘em, kill ‘em – do whatever.”
Jisung honestly didn’t even need to wait and hear whatever came next. His heart pounded heavily in his chest. Almost robotically, he slipped his gun free of its holster and clicked the safety off. The way these people spoke made his wolf snarl and pace uncomfortably. The cabinet door was further pushed open silently so he could slither his way out.
The woman didn’t get a chance to reply before he put a bullet in his head. The man shouted in alarm but joined his partner in the blink of an eye. Red splattered all over the tile kitchen while blood pooled beneath the two bodies. The air seemed to ring in the silence that followed.
Immediately afterwards, Jisung slapped a hand to his forward. “Fucking hell,” he muttered to himself, “I should’ve taken one for questioning.” A beat passed, and then – “I scared the fucking cats away, too, didn’t I?”
Yeah, there was definitely a reason why the pack made it a point to never go out on jobs alone. Jesus Christ.
Jisung sighed heavily and went to call Felix, ignoring the several worried texts this his packmate had sent him in the last five minutes.
Felix picked up instantly. “Jisung, what the fuck! Don’t just go silent on me like that!” The other scolded immediately, though there was an undercurrent of relief. Jisung winced.
“Yeah, yeah, I know – uh, something happened, though…”