in my stolen heart
in my crooked fate

I stepped out of the room a completely different person.

Everything that had happened felt like a dream, or a hallucination of sorts, not something that had actually happened. Even as I got into the car, my brain felt like it had been sunk into a puddle of water, sluggish and heavy. After all, how could it have been real?

The resolution was too quick, too fast to be true. I wasn't used to getting honest answers, and the conversation was like using the alphabet in a calculator: it simply didn't fit. Jungkook was going to be executed, and I had had no idea. That little detail made the shocking new information much easier for my brain to process. Finally getting rid of the relationship confusion, on the other hand, not so much.

I shook my head and looked out of the window of the car. The buildings blurred together, all gray and black. Nothing to focus on. My eyes were faltering.

"I thought you knew about Jungkook," Vernon said. He was driving, the only other person in the car, which thankfully gave me some more time to process what I had been given to work with. "Everyone else did, so I thought someone would tell you."

"When did this happen, exactly?" I was avoiding looking at him, pretending to be lost in my own thoughts, which wasn't so hard actually. "I'm not pissed or anything. Just wondering."

"Not a long time ago," he replied, turning a corner. "After the little meeting we had with Jennie. When we found out he was practically turning you over to the heir, that's when the obvious course of action became clear."

"We?"

"Me," he said. "And Taeyong."

I froze, waiting for the upcoming reference to the conversation among the three of us, but it never came. Vernon didn't say anything after, driving silently, and I brooded on what he had told me. That was probably why they had been sitting together. To work out the kinks in their plan.

The plan, if it worked, which would perhaps end things once and for all.

I thought about what would happen if they actually ended up killing Jungkook. There would be no one forcing me to stay in this city, so I would be able to run away again, this time with the people I wanted to stay by my side. I could go to my brother—if he wanted to see me. I shuddered at the thought. My only remaining family, and maybe he hated me.

The racers would be done, with both Vernon and Jungkook gone, or perhaps Jennie would take charge. Or would the Lee clan choose to hunt them down for obstructing their path? That seemed the more probable option, seeing how they had tried to kill the others. But I would get away.

What then?

My train of thought hit a wall. Was this all I wanted? To run away? I still felt like there was something missing from my plan—a purpose. Even if I got away, my life would have no purpose. The trauma I had suffered from my repeated exposure to the underworld had damaged me beyond repair, and wouldn't leave me even after this was over. My life was well and truly ruined, no matter what happened after.

You'll still have nightmares—you'll just learn to stop screaming when they wake you. That was what Vernon had told me. It will never stop.

Why was I even trying? I was destined to doom anyway.

"What are you thinking?" Vernon asked softly, and I was jerked back to the present. My mouth felt dry, and there was a bitter taste patterned on my tongue. Hopelessness.

"I keep thinking, what's the point?" I said roughly, pressing my parched tongue against the roof of my mouth. "Even if Jungkook dies, even if I get away, what's the point of all of this?" I laughed, a short and scared laugh. Scared of my own thoughts and where they could lead. "Isn't that fucking selfish? Sick? That's the only reason I'm doing all of this—saving myself—and I'm fucking everyone over in the process."

"Is this about Seulgi?" he asked quietly. When I didn't answer, he continued. "Trust me when I say Jennie had it coming. I'm not saying what they had wasn't real, but Seulgi was going to look for her family one way or the other. Even if it had been because of you, you would have been doing them a favor by making the ending quick for both of them. It was never going to last."

"I don't get to decide when it ends, though, do I?" I whispered. "I don't get to choose for them."

"But you didn't," he said gently, glancing over at me. "You didn't choose any of this."

I looked away, feeling my chest tighten. It wasn't just Seulgi. The blonde escort, the girl in the fishnets, Jun, Chaeyoung, Baekhyun, Lay. I hadn't hurt any of them directly, but what happened to them was a direct consequence of my existence. Maybe not the escorts—but I had the choice to help them, didn't I?

A flare burst in my chest. I still did. I still could.

"I feel like a coward," I said, closing my eyes so the tears wouldn't flow. Not because I didn't want to cry, but because it would ruin the makeup Yeeun and Jennie had worked so hard on. "I am one."

"Maybe right now, you are," he said, and the car rolled to a steady stop. Vernon killed the engine and looked at me with an expression that was hard to decipher. I looked back at him. The neighborhood was dark apart from a lamppost that was too far away to provide any illumination. I didn't feel real. "But the moment you walk through that door, you'll be the bravest person I know."

I took a deep breath and pushed the door open, stepping out into the chilly air. The entrance to the building wasn't flashy or beautiful, but the double doors were the most intimidating I had ever seen.

Vernon stepped up behind me, slipping his hand into mine and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I'll see you inside."

I let out a tiny breath, pushed the doors open, and stepped through.

It began to rain.

──────

The hall was the ugliest thing I had ever seen.

The interior was a complete contrast to the plain entrance, with a domed ceiling and cream walls, gilded in gold. The building itself was beautiful, but the secrets the innocent gathering hid made it ugly. The people were dressed formally, though I spotted a lot of undone ties and unbuttoned dress shirts. The one thing that distinguished it from any other formal party was the weaponry—guns at every hip, knives in thigh-high boots, a man walking strangely because of an armpit holster.

Ugly.

No one paid much attention to me, but I felt out of place. I stood a few feet away from the entrance, with no idea what I was supposed to do or where I was supposed to go. All I knew was that I had to be on the third floor by eleven thirty, and it was just half-past ten.

The entrance had been unguarded. Anyone could walk in. But they didn't have to worry about it, I thought with distaste, glancing at a man who openly flaunted a gun plated with gold.

My eyes caught a sign that said THEATER, pointing in the direction of a hallway. I made my way towards it, careful not to let my eyes stray lest I made eye contact with some pervert and had to bring out the knives. For safety, I grabbed a champagne flute from a passing tray and entered the theater with my head held high, schooling my expression into one of pride and haughtiness, reflecting those of the people around me.

The lights on the inside had been dimmed, and the curtains remained drawn. The tables formed a ring along the walls of room, leaving a hollow center for dancing. I spotted a concession stand outside, selling candy. Semi-formal, then. Not that I knew much about those, either.

More than once I had to power-walk away from people looking for a dance partner. The thigh holster grated against my skin when I walked. I couldn't hear the rain from outside, so the walls must have been thick. Even with the familiar outline of the knife against my skin, I felt vulnerable. There was no way I could take on so many people, especially when most of them had spilled blood before. I had backup, but a handful of specialists weren't effective against a whole crowd.

I glanced at the clock again. Barely twenty minutes had passed. Great.

A hand brushed against my lower back, and I whirled angrily, ready to spill some of my untouched champagne onto the perpetrator's clothes. The man caught my wrists before I could, pressing closer to me with a smile. His hair was gold-streaked-copper, clever eyes under a mask that covered half of his face, and his touch was warm.

"Not so fast, spitfire," he said, and my chest constricted with relief. Vernon. His arm circled my waist, and this time, I didn't resist.

"Where did you get the suit?" I asked, touching the lapel as he pulled me closer, setting down the untouched drink on a table. I noticed a stain on the white shirt peeking out from under the jacket, and pulled it away with a frown. "Is that blood?"

"It took me some time finding a fit my size, but the shoes still feel weird," he said, intertwining our hands and moving towards the dancers. "The bathroom upstairs was empty save the poor guy." He shrugged. "I say poor guy, but his gun said smuggler."

"And the mask?" His hands ghosted my back, making my chest feel hollow, like my heartbeat was being knocked around in a rattling box. He was close, very close. If I leaned closer, I could bump noses with him.

"Some of them have masks on," he answered, as we danced slowly to avoid suspicion. "To distinguish them from the rest, probably, but I don't know why. I had to get one to hide my identity."

"Maybe the one with masks are Lees," I said. "They're organizing this shitshow, aren't they?"

"Could be," he murmured, then leaned closer to my ear. "Stay quiet for a moment. There's a couple close to us."

I complied, feeling his breath hit my neck. We were chest-to-chest. His hand moved lower down my back, lips brushing my ear, and my eyes fluttered shut.

I placed my hand on his chest. "This shirt is a little tight for you," I murmured.

"Would be a pain to replace it now," he whispered in my ear. "I'll get rid of it when we get home. It'll be ruined with all the blood, anyway."

"Hm." I pressed my lips against the junction of his neck and jaw, as lightly as a feather, feeling a wave of satisfaction when he shivered. "So what's the plan?"

"You go behind the stage, and wait for the heir," he said. In retaliation, his teeth nipped at my jaw, and I made a noise of protest. "When he comes to get you, signal me. I'll be right here."

"How?"

"You'll figure it out," he whispered back, before leaned back, brushing his lips against my cheekbone before releasing me. "Now go. The auction will be starting at any moment."

My pulse was still racing. I let my hand stay on his chest, reluctant to let go. I felt like someone had rudely awakened me from a pleasant dream. "But—"

"No buts," he said. "If you do this without complaint, I'll let you get rid of this shirt for me."

I laughed, and he smiled. "All right," I said, grasping his lapel and pulling him in for a quick kiss. "But we're not done here," I whispered, watching his smile widen before I turned around and walked to my doom.

──────

jesus christ how beautiful can one man be? (also yes i was imagining 200105 vernon. sue me.)

so i was thinking, biweekly updates? wednesday and saturday? idk if it'll work out but i'm gonna try haha