༺༻ Chapter 10: whip? ༺༻

꧁༒༻༺༒꧂꧁༒༻༺༒꧂

"You have been my shadow for years," Taehyung barked. "So let me ask you this, Stephen... why did she save me?"

His voice cracked—barely—but enough to leak the storm inside. He turned back to Stephen, his eyes bloodshot, his razor-sharp face looking... defeated.

"Why would she take a bullet for someone like me?" he whispered, more to himself than the man in front of him. "She could have died."

Stephen shifted awkwardly. "Sir... maybe she did it for gain. Power. Greed."

The glass exploded against the wall before he had finished speaking. 

“No!” Taehyung shouted. “Don't you f***ing dare! That bullet blasted through her! She was bleeding out in front of me! That wasn't about the money; that wasn't fake!" 

He ran both hands through his messed up hair, jaw clenched tight with every painful thought. "Why would she... do that?"

Stephen was careful now. "Sometimes people only do that for one of two reasons: money. Or..." - he hesitated. "...love." 

Taehyung froze. That word packed a heavy punch and dropped straight into the hollow of his chest. 

His mouth opened. "Or... love." 

The word felt strange rolling off his tongue. He felt as if he was going to choke on it, like it did not belong in his mouth. Like it wasn't meant for people like him. He turned back to Stephen, now more confused than mad. "You think she - "

“I guess it’s possible,” said Stephen with a shrug. “Maybe she wants you. Or maybe she just went under your spell.”

Taehyung laughed—or tried to. It came out sharp, bitter, agony, a real and dangerous laugh that seemed to reverberate in the cold of the room.

“Please,” he spat as he began pacing again. “I’m a fucking nightmare. I have put people in body bags. I have torn families apart. There is blood on these hands. And yet…” He swayed, letting the sentence fall away as the fingers of his hands clenched into fists. “....she, she saw me.”

Stephen stayed silent.

“Or maybe she just liked your body. Or your face.”

That made Taehyung snort a laugh—nothing but dry breaths, no humor.

“Go fuck yourself, Stephen.”

And then silence. And then in that silence, pain turned to a deeper claw. 

He suddenly turned towards Stephen. “Get me the whip.”

Stephen blinked. "Sir?"

"The whip," Taehyung said, low and dangerous, "the one in the cabinet, bring it."

For the first time, Stephen hesitated-he had seen Taehyung in many moods, but this was something different. Something broken. Something bleeding. Stephen nodded, and exited the room, returning a few moments later, a long black leather whip in his hand.

Without a word Taehyung accepted the whip and then-kneed on the cold marble floor.

"Now hit me."

Stephen's eyes were even wider. "Sir-"

"Do it."

The first crack of leather against flesh rang out like thunder.

Taehyung didn't flinch.

Another crack. Another.

His bare back took it all. The pain, guilt, the punishment he felt he deserved.

Each strike wedged into his skin like the bullet that had torn through her. He welcomed it. Needed it. He wanted it all.

"Again!" he howled.

Stephen hesitated.

“I said—again!” Taehyung barked, the torture in his voice far more real than how his bleeding back felt. “I want to feel everything she felt!”

The whip cracked again. And again. Sweat creased Taehyung’s brow and matted against the blood rolling down his spine, yet he took it without crying, without demanding no more.

He took it like a man convicted to die.

At last, he dropped forward onto his palms, his body trembling.

“Why…?” he whispered. “Why would she do that for me?”

He got no answer.

He breathed heavily and unevenly. Hair stuck to his forehead. His chest rose and fell quickly as he whispered, “No one… no one's ever cared for me. Not really. Not like that…”

His voice cracked.

“Until her.”

Stephen stood still with the whip still in his hand and stared at the mafia king who ruled empires less than a week ago… now kneeling, bloodied and destroyed, leveled by a woman's love.

"Get me the fucking bottle," Taehyung said finally, his voice deeper now—dangerously quiet.

Stephen followed his orders, and without responding went to retrieve a bottle of expensive aged whiskey, setting it down on the glass table.

Taehyung stood up, it seemed slowly. Painful. He put on his jacket, bitterly brushing the way it clung to the open wounds on his back... the sting grounding him. Reminding him what was real.

He flopped down on the leather sofa, popped the cork off the bottle, and drank straight out of it. The burn returned.

"This girl... she came out of nowhere..." he muttered, eyes staring into the room's nothingness, "And she risked her life for me."

Another swig. More burn.

"She... cared."

The word barely made it from his throat.

A bitter smile contorted his lips. "The one person who should have hated me... saved me."

He sunk into the couch, every inch of him ached... but nothing compared to the pain in his chest.

And in the silence that followed, he thought of nothing else.

Of the blood on her uniform.

Of the trembling of her lips.

Of the bullet meant for him.

He knew… he wouldn’t be the same again.

He was alone in a room, a half-empty bottle of wine beside him, his fingers drumming against the glass.

“She saved me.” He said quietly, taking another swig.

The thought ate at him.

Did she know who I was? Did she know who I really am?

Or worse---

Does she... have feelings for me?

He tightened his grip on the bottle.

It was ridiculous. She was a cop. He was a criminal.

She should hate him....

But there was a....

He heard his own voice, slurred with frustration, echoing around the empty mansion.

“Do you know what is stupid?” he said, staring down into the wine at his own reflection.

“I’m falling in love with a cop”

꧁༒༻༺༒꧂ ꧁༒༻༺༒꧂

         ༶•┈┈┈༓༓༓༓༓༓༓༓༓┈┈┈•༶

            ༺ To be continued… ༻

꧁༒༻༺༒꧂꧂༒༻༺༒꧂

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