Chapter Text
The train tore through the mountainside, weaving between sheer cliffs and narrow gorges like a serpent. Sunlight glanced off its metallic surface, scattering harsh reflections on the weathered rock around it. Jungkook moved swiftly across the top, vaulting from one car to the next, his dark tactical suit standing out against the polished metal beneath him. The wind ripped at his clothes as another gap rushed closer. He pushed off hard, clearing it in a smooth leap just as the train lurched violently beneath him. He landed hard on the next carriage, knees bending with the impact. The soles of his boots skidded a few inches over the slick metal before he caught himself on a gloved hand.
“Careful,” Yoongi warned through the comms.
Jungkook grinned. “You worried about me, hyung?”
“No,” Yoongi said flatly. “I’m worried about the paperwork I’ll have to do when you kill yourself trying to show off.”
A crackle of static cut through the line before Jin’s voice broke in. “For the record, I am worried about you, but I’m currently more worried about my helicopter because Namjoon keeps touching things.”
“I wasn’t touching anything,” Namjoon argued immediately. “I was checking the monitor.”
“That still counts as touching.”
Before he could defend himself further, Hoseok spoke, voice lighter than Yoongi’s but no less focused. “Namjoon, keep both hands where Jin can see them.”
Namjoon let out an exasperated sigh. “Hyung.”
“Don’t hyung me. I’m trying to save lives here.”
A laugh slipped out of Jungkook before the train curved sharply around the mountainside, metal groaning against the tracks. He adjusted his balance without thinking, one hand unconsciously grazing the sidearm strapped to his thigh.
“Jungkook,” Hoseok spoke again, sharper this time. “The package is three cars ahead. You’ve got eight minutes before the train gets to the tunnel. If you’re still on it by the time it gets there, extraction will be a hell of a lot harder.”
Namjoon’s voice followed, dropping into that steady, clipped tone that made the rest of them straighten instinctively. “That means you get in, get the drive, and get out, Kook. No drama.”
Jungkook’s mouth twitched upward. “When have you ever known me to be dramatic?”
“Hawaii.”
“Tokyo.”
Taehyung and Jimin answered together, breaking the unusual silence they had kept since the mission began. Jungkook made an indignant noise. “Wow. Betrayed by my own boyfriends.”
“You asked,” Taehyung said.
“Whose side are you on?”
“The one trying to get you back in one piece,” Jimin replied.
Jungkook’s smirk eased slightly at that, though it didn’t disappear completely. He shook his head, still faintly amused, and kept moving until the narrow maintenance panel he’d been looking for came into view. It sat recessed into the roof, nearly flush with the surrounding metal. He dropped beside it, bracing a knee against the vibration rattling up through the carriage.
“I found the access point,” he said, the last hints of playfulness leaving his voice.
“Give me ten seconds,” Yoongi replied.
Jungkook pressed one palm flat against the panel while the train rattled under him. A thin blue line pulsed once beneath his glove as Yoongi worked his magic. Somewhere inside the carriage, the locks disengaged with a muted clunk.
“Try it now.”
Jungkook hooked two fingers into the seam and shoved. The panel resisted for half a breath before sliding back on its track, metal scraping harshly under the roar of the wind. Darkness opened beneath him.
“Got it,” he said.
“Good,” Hoseok said. “Extraction is seven minutes out. Jin’s coming in from the south side of the gorge. Jimin and Taehyung should have visual in less than five. Be ready when they get there.”
“Copy,” Jungkook replied, shifting toward the opening. He glanced down into the shadowed interior of the car, fingers tightening around the edge of the hatch as he measured the drop.
“Kook.”
Jimin’s voice was softer than the others. Jungkook’s fingers stilled against the metal.
“Be careful.”
A faint smile touched his mouth.
“Always am,” he said, and dropped silently into the depths below.
He landed in the carriage with a thud, the sound of his boots hitting the diamond-plated steel echoing off the walls. The air was stale, thick with the tang of cold metal and the sharp, acrid odor of machine oil. Dropping into a crouch behind a nearby container, his dark eyes quickly swept across the room with a practiced precision.
The area was dim, lit only by a single overhead light that flickered erratically. It buzzed with a high-pitched hum that cut through the low, rhythmic thrum of the car. In the feeble glow, he could see rows of industrial crates lining the wall and even more stacked haphazardly on the ground. Most were unmarked, just dull composite boxes with dented corners and worn latches. A few bore faded, stenciled labels, and Jungkook was pretty sure some contained stolen military hardware, but none of that mattered to him. Not today.
“Yoongi,” he murmured, fingers brushing against his sidearm.
“I’m looking.” The faint click of keys came through the comms, fast and precise. “Thermal’s clean. No visible hostiles in your area. Three heat signatures two cars back, but they’re holding position.”
“Copy.”
He moved forward slowly, keeping low as the train rocked beneath him. The drive was supposed to be hidden inside a decoy weapons crate near the rear bulkhead. Jungkook quickly found it beneath a tarp, which he pulled aside, revealing an unlabeled matte-black case.
Jungkook stilled. The hairs at the back of his neck lifted. “This doesn’t make sense,” he said.
Jimin’s voice came in immediately. “What doesn’t?”
“They know what they stole. Why leave it sitting here like this?”
“Maybe they got careless,” Hoseok offered, though he didn’t sound convinced.
“Yeah,” Jungkook said quietly. “Maybe.”
He crouched by the crate, pulling a slim tool from his belt and sliding it into the lock. The mechanism resisted for two seconds before giving with a quiet click. The case opened with a soft hydraulic hiss. Inside, nestled in black foam, was the drive. It was small and silver. Barely bigger than his thumb. An unassuming piece of hardware carrying the names, locations, and lives of every undercover agent they had embedded around the world. Something that had caused so much panic and strife. Jungkook picked it up, and for one quiet breath, nothing happened. His shoulders loosened by the smallest fraction.
Then the lights died, and the carriage was plunged into darkness. Above him, the hatch slid shut with a heavy metallic clank.
“Ah,” Jungkook said.
“Shit,” Yoongi hissed. The clicking on his end turned frantic. “They cut my access. I just lost internal cams and thermal.”
Jungkook shoved the drive into an inner pocket of his suit as red emergency lights snapped on overhead, washing the carriage in a harsh, pulsing glow. A siren followed a second later, shrill and violent, piercing through the air.
Namjoon was on the line a second later, “Jungkook, report.”
“So,” Jungkook said, drawing his sidearm, “good news is, I found the drive.”
“And the bad news?” Taehyung pressed.
Jungkook looked toward the far end of the carriage as the door lock disengaged.
“Someone definitely wanted me to take it.”
The door burst open. The first man came through fast, rifle raised, but Jungkook was faster. The shot cracked through the tight space, deafening against the steel walls, and the man dropped before he could even make it inside.
“Kook!” Jimin called, voice laced with alarm.
“I’m fine,” Jungkook said quickly, already moving behind the nearest stack of crates as more footsteps thundered in the next car. “I must have tripped an alarm. They know I’m here.” Another round of gunfire ripped through the carriage. Jungkook ducked as bullets punched into the crate above him, sending debris raining down onto his shoulders.
“Jin.” Jungkook checked the magazine in his sidearm, his jaw tight. “How far out are you?”
“About two minutes,” Jin replied, “Maybe less if I ignore every aviation regulation ever written.”
“Make it less.”
Jungkook glanced toward the sealed hatch above him, then toward the door where more men were closing in. His grip tightened around the gun.
“Yoongi, please tell me you can get that hatch open again.”
“I’m trying,” Yoongi said. “They’ve locked me out.”
A second hostile appeared in the doorway. Jungkook fired twice. The body hit the floor hard. Then, the door on the opposite end of the car unlocked.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
The second door opened, and two more men pushed inside.
“Jungkook,” Namjoon cut in, voice clipped. “Status.”
Jungkook threw himself sideways as another barrage of bullets ripped into the container he’d been using for cover. Splinters of composite and shards of metal flew through the air across the floor. One caught him along the cheek, sending a hot spark of pain through his face. He rolled behind another stack and came up on one knee.
“I’m pinned down,” he said, firing once toward the first door, then twisting to cover the second. “Both exits are compromised.”
“Can you get to the hatch?” Taehyung asked. “Force it open?”
“Not unless these people decide to kindly stop shooting at me.”
Another burst of gunfire tore into the crates. Jungkook ducked lower as they shuddered violently against his back. He could feel the impacts punching closer now, each shot stripping away more of what little cover he had left.
He was running out of time.
“Guys,” he said, trying to quell the unfamiliar knot of panic tightening low in his gut, “I need options.”
“Yoongi,” Namjoon said.
“I know,” Yoongi snapped, then exhaled hard. “I think I’ve got it. Just give me a second.”
Above him, the hatch jerked. Metal screamed against metal as it opened a few inches, just enough for daylight to slice through the red-lit carriage. Then it stopped. Yoongi cursed under his breath. “No, no, no, come on!”
Another volley ripped into the stack behind Jungkook. The emergency lights strobed over the carriage, turning everything into fractured flashes: the bodies on the floor, his gun heavy in his hand, the endless stream of men pouring in from both sides of the car, and the narrow strip of daylight above taunting him with an escape that remained just out of reach. The space around him suddenly felt smaller than it had a moment ago. His breathing came faster despite his effort to control it. He dragged his focus away from the useless hatch and back toward the doors, searching for something he had missed, but every option he ran through ended the same way. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t see a way out.
“Jungkook, listen to me.”
Hoseok’s voice reached him through the gunfire and alarms, firm and familiar when everything else was closing in. Jungkook latched onto it.
“According to the manifest, that car is carrying demolition charges, probably stolen from that missing convoy three weeks ago. They should be in a black case with yellow hazard markings.”
Jungkook drew in a steadying breath as his eyes flicked across the crates. “That would’ve been helpful to know about thirty seconds ago.”
“I didn’t have the manifest thirty seconds ago,” Hoseok shot back.
Jungkook dropped low when another round of gunfire flew over his head, then looked through the gap beneath the crates. A black case sat two stacks away, half-hidden behind a torn tarp. Yellow hazard markings ran along the side.
“Found them.”
“Good,” Hoseok said. “Can you get to them?”
“I’m working on it.”
Jungkook put two quick shots into a pair of hostiles who had gotten too close for comfort, then holstered his sidearm and grabbed a smoke grenade from his belt. He yanked the pin and threw it hard toward the center of the carriage. It bounced once, clattered across the floor, then erupted in a thick grey cloud. The next burst of gunfire went wide, punching blindly through smoke and steel. He launched himself out from behind his rapidly disintegrating cover, slid across the floor, grabbed the case, and dragged it behind the nearest crate as bullets filled the space he had just left. His shoulder hit the crate hard, sending a bolt of pain flashing down his arm. He set the case onto the floor beside him and flipped the latches open. Inside were six compact charges packed in molded foam.
“Hoseok, talk me through it.”
“Take one charge,” Hoseok said immediately. “Set it low against the side panel, near the seam where the wall meets the floor.”
Jungkook grabbed one of the charges and crawled toward the side of the carriage, keeping low as rounds cracked overhead. He pressed it against the seam and felt the magnetic clamps lock into place with a click.
“Okay.”
“Set the charge to a three-second delay. Arm it, hit the trigger, then get behind something heavy and keep your head down.”
Jungkook turned a small dial and thumbed the switch along the top edge of the device. The charge beeped once, indicating that it was fully armed. He hit the trigger and threw himself backward.
The explosion ripped through the side of the train, engulfing the car in searing heat and a deafening boom. The wall blew outward and disappeared in a cloud of twisted metal and rolling fire. The attackers nearest to the blast were thrown off their feet. One crashed into a stack of crates hard enough to dent the casing. Another skidded across the floor before slamming into the opposite wall. Wind tore through the carriage with violent force, ripping through the remaining smoke and sending loose debris and shell casings skittering across the floor before they vanished into the gorge outside. A torn section of tarp snapped wildly in the sudden pressure change, and one of the lighter crates shifted several inches before catching against a metal support.
Jungkook coughed, ears ringing, arm aching, and cheek stinging where blood tracked hot down his skin. He pushed himself up on one elbow and looked at the hole in the wall. Outside, the world blurred past in streaks of grey track, green trees, and open sky.
“Jungkook?” Namjoon asked, his concern palpable even through the comms.
“Still here,” he rasped. He shoved himself to his feet, keeping one hand braced against the nearest crate as the train lurched. The opening was rough and uneven; the jagged edges of the wall curled outward from the blast. Behind him, the remaining attackers were still trying to recover. Jungkook didn't wait for them to finish.
“I found my exit,” he said, carefully grabbing the edge of the blown-out wall. “Thank you, hyung.”
“Anytime, Jungkookie,” Hoseok responded, a faint note of relief coloring his voice. “Now get out of there.”
Jungkook hauled himself through the opening. For one sickening second, the wind caught him full in the chest and nearly ripped him away from the train. His boots found the narrow exterior ledge as one hand caught a maintenance rail, fingers locking around it hard enough to ache. Below him, an inky black river carved through the gorge, pale streaks of foam forming where the water slapped against the rocks. Bracing his feet against the side panel, he pulled himself upward. The train curved sharply around the mountainside, throwing his weight sideways. His injured shoulder slammed into the metal hard enough to make his vision flash white. He held on, teeth clenched, then reached for the next rail. Hand over hand, he climbed until the roof finally came into reach. Jungkook hooked an arm over the edge and dragged himself up onto the top of the car, rolling onto his back for half a breath before forcing himself upright.
“I’m topside,” he said.
“We see you,” Jimin replied.
The helicopter came into view, black against the pale sky, its blades beating the air in a steady rhythm. Jin brought it low alongside the train, close enough that Jungkook could see Namjoon seated next to him in the cockpit and Taehyung crouched by the open side door. Jimin lay prone beside him, secured to the cabin by a harness clipped around his waist. His rifle was braced against his shoulder, the barrel tracking the roof behind Jungkook in case any of the attackers followed him out.
“Sixty seconds to the tunnel,” Yoongi warned.
The mouth of it was visible now, a dark opening bored into the mountain ahead that was steadily growing larger. Taehyung dropped the extraction ladder. It snapped downward in the wind, swinging hard toward the roof before arcing back toward the helicopter.
“Come on!” he called, motioning urgently to the ladder.
Jungkook pushed himself into a run. The train vibrated beneath him. The ladder swung closer. He reached for it, fingers barely brushing the first rung before something slammed into him from behind. The impact drove the air out of his lungs. Jungkook hit the roof hard, his shoulder taking the brunt of the fall. Before he could roll away, an arm locked around his throat and dragged him backward.
“Jungkook!” Taehyung shouted.
Jimin whipped the rifle toward them, but the attacker had already pulled Jungkook tight against his chest, using his body as a shield. Jungkook grabbed at the man’s forearm, his boots scraping uselessly against the roof as he fought for leverage. The attacker had blood streaked down his face, and one sleeve had been torn away completely, exposing blistered, burned skin beneath it. Yet the injuries had done nothing to weaken him. His hold was relentless, the pressure against Jungkook’s windpipe growing with each passing moment.
Jungkook drove an elbow back. It connected hard with the man’s ribs, but the arm around his throat only tightened. He tried to twist, tried to get his knee under him, anything to get the attacker to release him, but the man hauled him back again, using his greater size to keep Jungkook off his feet. The toes of his boots scrabbled against the metal, catching for half a second before slipping again. Darkness crept into the edges of his vision. His lungs burned with the instinct to pull in air that couldn’t get past the vice grip locked around his neck. The roar of the train and helicopter began to recede beneath the heavy pounding in his ears, each beat of his heart growing louder as everything else faded around it. The extraction ladder swung uselessly a few feet away.
“Jimin,” Jungkook forced out.
“I don’t have a clear shot,” Jimin said, tracking the duo through his scope. The attacker’s head shifted in and out of view behind Jungkook’s. The helicopter rocked beneath Jimin with every change in the wind. There was barely an inch of space between them. Jungkook’s fingers clawed at the man’s arm. His grip was beginning to weaken, his movements losing their precision.
“Take it,” he gasped.
“No.”
“Jimin.”
“I said I don’t have a shot.”
Jungkook’s eyes found him through the sight. Even from the helicopter, through the wind, distance, and chaos, Jimin saw it clearly.
Trust.
He realized in that moment that the choice had already been made. There was no time left to argue, no time left for Jungkook to promise him that it would be okay. He was asking Jimin to do the one thing that might save him, and hesitation would cost them the only chance they had.
“Shoot him,” Jungkook managed, the words clawing painfully out of his throat. “Please.”
Jimin’s finger tightened on the trigger.
The attacker jerked Jungkook sharply to the side.
Jimin fired.
Jungkook’s body jolted.
Pain coursed through him like liquid fire, searing through every nerve until it was all he could feel. Blood spread hot beneath his tactical suit, too fast and too dark against the black fabric. The attacker’s grip had vanished the moment the bullet ripped through Jungkook’s side and struck the man behind him. His body pitched sideways, disappearing over the edge.
Jungkook staggered.
Someone was screaming his name.
Maybe Jimin.
Maybe Taehyung.
Maybe both.
He couldn’t tell anymore. Everything sounded distant and muffled, like he was underwater. His hand pressed uselessly to his side. Blood slicked between his fingers, warm and sticky. He looked up to see the ladder swing past him again, close enough to reach if only he could make his body move.
“Kook!” Taehyung cried, the name leaving him raw and panicked.
“Jungkook, stay with me,” Jimin’s voice was shaking now. “Look at me. Please, look at me.”
Jungkook lifted his head. Through the ringing in his ears and the haze clouding his vision, he found Jimin. He was still holding the rifle, but his face was frozen in horror. Beside him, Taehyung leaned dangerously far through the open door, one hand locked around the frame, while the other reached toward Jungkook. His eyes were wide with fear, and his face drawn tight, as his mouth formed words that Jungkook could no longer hear.
The pain was still there, but it had started to change. The sharp, pulsating waves of agony had begun to recede beneath a spreading numbness, leaving his limbs slow and heavy. His hand tightened over the wound, but there was too much blood. He could feel it soaking into the fabric, slipping through his fingers, no matter how hard he pressed.
The tunnel was almost there.
Jungkook looked back at them.
He wanted to say something. Anything. That it was okay. That Jimin had done what he asked. That he didn’t blame him. That Taehyung needed to hold him after this because Jimin would tear himself apart. That he loved them both so much that leaving them behind like this hurt worse than any bullet ever could.
But when he opened his mouth, no sound came out.
His vision was beginning to blur, their faces slipping in and out of focus as the train rattled beneath him. He forced his eyes open wider, fighting to keep sight of them just a little longer.
Jimin was pale, tears tracking silently down his cheeks, the rifle still braced in his shaking hands. Taehyung was straining after Jungkook with everything he had, arm stretched toward the train, as though he could somehow reach across the distance between them.
Jungkook looked between his lovers, trying to cling to every detail. If this was the last time he would ever see them, he wanted to remember it—wanted to remember them.
The memories came in broken flashes, too fast for him to make sense of.
Jimin laughing into the curve of his shoulder, warm breath brushing against his neck. Taehyung’s fingers combing gently through his hair in the dark. The three of them tangled up together after missions, bruised and exhausted and alive, pressed so close that Jungkook couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other began.
Jungkook kept their faces fixed in his mind as everything else began to fall away. With the last of his strength slipping away, his lips moved soundlessly around the words he needed them to hear one more time.
I love you.
Jimin’s expression faltered, grief plain across his features. Taehyung shook his head hard, refusing to acknowledge what Jungkook already had.
They understood.
Something eased inside him. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough, but it was the only thing he had left.
Jungkook tried to smile, but he wasn’t quite sure if he managed it.
The train lurched into another bend. Jungkook’s foot slid, and his body tipped backward. One arm reached out on instinct, fingers closing around empty space as the metal beneath him disappeared.
Jungkook was falling.
For a moment, there was only air ripping past him. The wind relentlessly battered his face as the river rushed up to meet him. He struck the water with enough force to punch the breath from his lungs, and the freezing current dragged him under before he could draw another.
A scream tore itself out of Jimin’s chest.
“NO!”
He surged toward the open door, the rifle slipping from his hands and clattering across the floor of the helicopter. Taehyung caught him around the waist, pulling him back from the edge, his own stricken gaze drawn to the place where Jungkook had vanished.
“Jungkook!” Namjoon shouted. “Jungkook, come in!”
Static answered.
Taehyung gripped Jimin tighter, his glistening eyes fixed on the water below. “Kookie, please,” he begged. “Don’t do this.”
The river churned beneath them, dark water breaking into white crests where the current crashed against the rocks. Taehyung searched every stretch of it for movement. A hand breaking through the surface. A glimpse of black fabric. Anything that would prove Jungkook was still there.
There was nothing.
“Jungkook, answer me.” Namjoon tried to force his words into the steady, commanding tone that Jungkook always responded to, but it did little to mask the desperation beneath them. “That’s an order.”
Nothing.
“Yoongi?” Namjoon demanded.
“Comms are dead,” Yoongi said. Hoseok came in a half a second later, his voice broken in a way none of them had ever heard before.
“I-I just lost his biometrics.”
Jimin made a small, wounded sound. Taehyung’s grip faltered. “What?”
“They’re gone,” Hoseok was so quiet he could barely be heard over the line. “His vitals are gone. I can’t—I don’t have him.”
The helicopter’s warning system erupted before any of them could respond, a piercing alarm cutting through the static and the grief in the relentless beat of the rotors. Jin’s head snapped toward the instrument panel. “We have a problem.”
A streak of smoke cut up from the ridge. “Missile lock,” Yoongi said, forcing his voice to remain steady. “Jin, break left now.” Jin wrenched the helicopter sideways. The movement slammed Taehyung against the doorframe and threw Jimin from his grasp into the rack behind him. Namjoon grabbed the back of Jin’s seat with one hand, bracing himself as the missile shot past and exploded against the rock face behind them. The blast rocked the helicopter hard.
“We have to go,” Jin said, fighting to steady the controls.
Jimin pushed himself upright and turned toward him, eyes wide and unfocused. “No.”
Another alarm shrieked through the cabin. Namjoon looked down at the river one last time. His eyes swept desperately over its dark surface, searching the rocks, the banks, every stretch of water still visible beneath them. Jungkook wasn’t there. He drew in a shaking breath. “We’re aborting.”
Jimin’s head snapped toward him. “What?” For a second, he only stared, like he was waiting for Namjoon to take it back. “No.” He shook his head hard. “No, we can’t. He could still be down there.”
“Jimin—”
“You don’t know that he’s gone.” His voice rose over the alarms, laced with panic. “That reading could have been wrong. We haven’t even looked.”
Another warning flashed across the instrument panel. “Jin,” Namjoon said, voice hollow. “Get us out.”
The helicopter slowly began to pull away from the gorge. Jimin lunged toward the open door. “We can’t leave him!” Taehyung caught him again before he could reach the edge, wrapping both arms around his chest and dragging him back. Jimin fought against him immediately, twisting so violently that Taehyung nearly lost his footing.
“Let me go!” Jimin screamed, thrashing in his grip. “Tae, let me go!”
Taehyung’s face crumpled, tears streaming silently down it, but he held on. “We can still get him,” Jimin pleaded. “He could’ve come up farther down. We didn’t look long enough. We have to go back. Please, we can still—”
“We can’t!” Namjoon snapped.
Jimin went still in Taehyung’s arms. He stared at Namjoon as though he no longer recognized him. Namjoon never left one of them behind. But there was something in the way he sat, rigid and pale, that stopped Jimin from speaking, from protesting with every ounce of his being.
Namjoon’s eyes were wet, his control breaking apart despite every effort to hold it together. He drew in an uneven breath and looked toward the river, even though it was already slipping away behind the rocky terrain. “He’s gone, Jimin.” The words seemed to tear something apart inside him. He glanced from Jimin to Taehyung, then toward Jin in the cockpit. “I already lost one of you, and I refuse to lose the rest of you trying to get him back.”
Jimin shook his head once, then again, harder, hands pushing weakly against Taehyung’s arms. “No. No, he’s not gone. He can’t be.”
“I’m sorry.” Namjoon sounded utterly defeated. There was nothing left of the steady authority he had been clinging to, only grief and the horrible weight of the decision he never wanted to make. “There’s nothing more we can do.”
Jimin’s mouth opened, but the only sound that came out was a broken sob. Taehyung pulled him closer to his chest and felt the moment all the fight drained from his body.
“He can’t be dead, Tae,” Jimin choked out. “He can’t be.”
Taehyung buried his face against Jimin’s shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut as he struggled to breathe around the grief lodged in his chest. He wanted to tell Jimin that Jungkook wasn’t dead. That they would turn around and find him clinging to the riverbank. That Jungkook would come home bruised and grinning, ready with some terrible joke about the funeral they nearly had to plan. But he couldn’t force the lie to come out. He couldn’t give Jimin the sliver of hope he needed when he knew how little of it remained. All he could do was hold him tighter.
The rest of his team wasn’t faring much better. Jin kept flying, his hands steady on the controls, but Taehyung could see the tears slowly carving their way down his cheeks. Namjoon stared straight ahead, jaw clenched, with one hand pressed over his mouth, like it was the only thing keeping him from breaking apart completely. Over the comms, Hoseok’s muffled sobs filled the desolate silence that Yoongi had retreated into.
Behind them, the river had vanished completely into the gorge, and with its loss came the horrible truth none of them wanted to acknowledge.
Jungkook was gone.