~ To Chapter One Genres: Mafia (that's a genre, right?), Romance, Action Warnings: Rated... let's say 15+ for violence, adult themes, and language... and then 42+ for adult scenes. No worries, young internet dwellers; I will provide a trigger warning for any explicit scenes. Now, here goes chapter two. Please enjoy the new characters introduced!
"You've got to be fucking kidding me." You muttered under your breath, eyes scanning the features of the handsome broad-shouldered man before you—the one now deemed your bodyguard. You could almost see his lip twitch in annoyance, like he was biting back all he had to say. It was clear he'd not been looking forward to this job, though, something about him spewed obedience, like a sickly invisible slime that clogged your lungs. He was no better than a lap dog of the government. In fact, that's exactly what he was. "They're not, trust me." Okay, so maybe his voice was deep and raspy, with some unknown accent gliding off the ends of his syllables. But his words made your eyes go wide, and the waning and waxing confidence that had been fluctuating within you... hit a sudden post and fell down an abyss. You stepped back, slightly intimidated, closer to Junior, who was observing the interaction the entire time. You peered over your shoulder with a pleading glint in your orbs, but that dunghole merely shrugged, hands folded behind his back. That's right; he was a lap dog too. Then, you shot a glance to your father, a look that was beyond incredulous. "Father!" was all you could manage, before becoming tongue tied under his cold glare. "Y/N. This is for your own good. Officer Wang will take good care of you for the next few months, and there is nothing that will change my mind." This has to be some sort of joke, right? Some sick joke? You were an adult. An adult who could manage surviving without the surveillance of some cocky bastard of the state, that much you were positive of. Yet, being stricken by the stares of all four men in the dining area, you couldn't find the words to retaliate, to knock some sense into them. No matter how strongly you were feeling towards it, all your mouth could do was hesitate. "Sir, your appointment with the Yong Family is nearing." Junior broke your silence for you, and your father nodded hastily, the world being drowned out around you as your mind continued searching for things to say. At some point, your father shook hands with Mr. Jimin Park, leaving him with departing words as he and Junior moved for the door. You stared at a spot on the tablecloth, fists clenching tightly, beyond your conscious control. "Y/N," Your head shot up. Your father wasn't looking at you, but he had stopped in the doorway. Please, dad. Please say something you won't regret. "Behave." He slipped his round body through the heavy doors, and your jaw went slack. Well shit on a stick, now you're the lap dog. ~~~ Isn't it nice; the cool breeze flitting in through the window? Spring air infiltrating your lungs with the scent of daisies? The melodious songbirds chirping from the fountains out front? The fucktard hunk standing all manly-ish at the door? He hadn't uttered a word in all your endeavors back to your room. You didn't eat anything, your appetite lost to the sudden presence sticking out in your own damn existence. Instead, it seemed logical to lie down on your bed, and try to ignore the guy. But it was incredibly hard to; even with your back turned, knowing you’re in a room with him felt awkward. The demon within you was pestering you to go and question the 'Officer Jackson Wang'. But your weariness after the whole situation tore you down until you were too tired to stand. Wang must have been under strict orders, like he knew exactly what to do; it was like in movies, when you see the big security guards wordlessly manning their post like the dutiful souls they were. Almost admirable—how he carried out his duty, even with obvious annoyance radiating off him. You sighed, turning your head away from him—sure he had looks, but what a bore if all he did was stare straight ahead, tight-lipped, as though waiting for something to happen. For tragedy to strike. For something thrilling? Maybe then it’d be fun. Eyes closed—you could bother him later. After all, if he was Park's best man of the agency, he would have been good with abiding by rules. And that meant he'd be there when you wake up. Hopefully. You know, since he is being paid to never leave your side. Elsewise, everything you thought true because of action movies was a lie. When you turned to find a more comfortable position, you were met with a familiar dull pain in your stomach. Familiar, because it only happened when your body was angled certain ways. Ever since you were young, it had been there. Your father said you were involved in a car accident when you were younger, and had been, just by a few inches, impaled by debris. You were too young to remember, but the scar on your stomach (running just right of your belly button) was a constant reminder you were nearly a dead five-year old. Cool, huh? Anyways, you turned. The pain went from dull to sharp—as it always did—like the scar tissue or muscle had a permanent knot there. The pain was imminent and you wondered how you managed surviving with it growing up. You released a groan and hugged your abdomen, that dumb defensive maneuver that did nothing to cease the pain. “Shit...” You moaned out, momentarily forgetting you weren’t alone in there. “Anything the matter... Miss?” A voice through gritted teeth sounded by the door, and you bit your lip, turning to peer at him. Sure, the look on your face must’ve been memorable—even he was shocked by it; contorted with a blend of anger and pain, perhaps with a twitching eye here and there. The change in behavior must have been beyond questionable. “Look, I get you don’t want to be here but,” you paused to inhale sharply, “don’t try to say it like you care. And don’t call me Miss.” He rolled his eyes, breathing out like he was trying to calm himself, the most expressive he had been thus far. “Fine,” To your surprise, he began moving towards your bed side, his pace as strong-willed and defined as his aura of beaming confidence. “What’s wrong with you, brat?” You gulped, admittedly intimidated by that sharp, pointed look of his, with ever the hint of carelessness sketched across it. But brat? Your eyes narrowed, and you were ready to retort, though your mid-section had other plans. You released another groan. “Tummy issues?” You shot him an icy glare, gritting your own teeth as he looked down at you with an upturned lip, like it gave him satisfaction you were in pain. It probably did. Sadist. “None of your... business...” Your words were airy, but an attempt to get him to back off. The handsome man only quirked a brow, and, instead of moving away, shrugged and crossed his arms. “It is my business when I get paid to keep you from pain and suffering.” Cheeky? He sounded cheeky, almost as though he had rehearsed that line just for the occasion, and damn that small smile looked good on his face. “Also if it’ll get you to shut up with all the repulsive moans. You sound like a dying whale. I’d hate to hear you in bed.” !!! THIS MAN !!! “Piss off, you bottle-blond!” Your steady voice surprised even yourself, echoing in the scarcely decorated room. It was his turn to be offended, eyebrows narrowing dangerously. The pain began to dim until it was as dull as it began, and you grasped your words and clung to them fiercely as you spoke. “I didn’t... ask to be stalked by some... Thor wannabe.” You had kicked your legs over the side of the bed and were suddenly standing up, approaching him like a fire that had been fueled by a tornado’s winds. “I didn’t ask to be part of a family... where I can rarely leave the property on my own.” One step. “Where my dad doesn’t look at me as a daughter... but as a fucking future dime to stand next to him so he’d look better.” Two steps, and you were almost chest to chest, glaring up at him as he held his ground, clearly not expecting this side of you to shine. “Where the only family I’m allowed to love is either jerking off in the high-end district... or cleaning some poor fuck’s blood off a stiletto. “ The words were unwavering and unfamiliar. Was this really how you felt? All those times you spent awake at night, tossing and turning, these were the things that kept you up? It really pissed you off—for it to all come in like a freight train. And your lips were moving without a single pause. “Why are you even here? We’re enemies.” You inched closer. “You’re the good guys,” A finger jabbed his hard chest. “We’re the bad guys.” That was the harsh reality of it. It felt shitty you hadn’t noticed earlier. After a breath, your voice leveled out, and your clenched fists relaxed. “Even if it isn’t up to me, I’m one of them.” It always just seemed as though you were surrounded by a cloak of unidentifiable emotion, building up every time you heard someone in the Family talk about guns, tits, drugs, and blood proudly spilt by their hand. Though, despite the foreboding sense washing over you, your gaze refused to lower, and Wang’s face held an unreadable expression, motionless as you took one step back. Well? What does he have to say? Nothing? Too pansy to— “You pass.” He smirked, eyes cast down, a definite harshness lifted from the dark glares he had been sending all morning. You blinked. “What?” “You pass,” He repeated, a large hand coming down to pat your shoulder like you did something good and like—you know—you didn’t just bare your teeth at him. He released a short sigh, stretching his shoulders back before turning and making for the foyer. “You’re right for assuming I don’t want to guard you. But at least I know you won’t need my help in getting in someone’s face. You can hold your ground pretty well for a spoiled kid.” He smirked over his shoulder, hand on the doorknob. You swiveled on your foot, shocked. “What the hell?” “I'll be in and out of your room during the day for periods at a time, but I'll be outside your room at night.” He ignored what you wanted to say and departed without another word, leaving you to go through at least eight shades of shock and anger before mutely collapsing on your bed, rage-ridden. “Must think he’s hot shit. Newsflash bud; nothing reputable comes from putting ‘bodyguard of a nobody’ on your resume” You closed your eyes, a heavy sigh flowing from your lips. He got you, though. Whatever good that did for him, it sure as hell was unnecessary and... childish. That glint in his eyes was very childish too. One thing for sure; he wasn’t the typical body guard from the action movies. You realized you still had a lot to learn about Jackson Wang. ~~~ “I can’t believe Jimin put me up for this job. He must be getting some serious pay from this family.” “The L/Ns? You realize if it’s leaked that you’re guarding the biggest mob boss’s daughter in the district, the entire agency will be a goner, right? We’re not even supposed to be messing around with the higher ups... why would Jimin take this one?” Jackson examined a scuff on his shoe, thinking over the options. The man on the other line waited patiently, he too searching for possible reasons. It really didn’t make sense. “I dunno, Bam.” He sighed into the receiver, his partner probably scratching his head on his end. “I know Jimin won’t say much if I ask him. Like he’s sworn to secrecy with the big guy here. All I heard was he’s returning a favor the agency owes the Family from the last war. Christ knows what that was.” He rubbed his eyes and leaned against the wall in the corridor. “And the girl? How is she?” Jackson eyed the door across from him, adjusting the ring on his finger. “Stubborn as all hell. But she’s witty. Got a mouth on her. She’ll do fine in a verbal stand-off. Even went as far as insulting my blond.” BamBam cackled on the other end, the sound of his knee being slapped causing Jackson to narrow his eyes and crack a knuckle. “And what about her looks?” “Fine, I guess. Kind of careless with apparel, though... She’s your age, but she’s got the soul of someone who’s been trapped in a house their entire life. She probably hasn’t experienced much of anything. Spoiled and a spitfire, yeah, but I wouldn’t want to live like that either.” Jackson clicked his tongue, glancing to where a maid was pushing a cart down the hall. “Hmm... I’ll have to see for myself then. This is the first assignment we haven’t been partners for in a year. And you’re the one who gets to watch an inexperienced girl...” Jackson chuckled. Truthfully, he’d rather be on leave like BamBam. As lame as it sounded, recovering from a bullet wound to the shoulder while stuck in the offices had to be better than what he was doing. “Inexperienced is boring.” “Inexperienced means there’s a lot more to experience. Don’t forget what you’re privileged with... Hey, Jimin just got back. I gotta run. Keep me posted, and don’t miss me too much.” “Yeah, of course, Bam.” The friends hung up, and Jackson returned his cell to his pocket, whistling lowly as he scanned the hall. It’d probably be best he actually do his job now. Truth be told, Jackson Wang was first sworn into service as a bodyguard for government officials. When he had a few years under his belt, ranking up at a remarkable pace, he was stationed outside of the district to defend against radical groups and insurgents with grudges against the agency. There were almost too many, and that’s how he met BamBam. They worked field missions, tracking down and taking out terrorist groups before they could attack. Those bastards always looked to take over, so long as it meant they had to chance to soak in riches. As long as wealth matriculated the way it did, it was never a safe world. Anyways, Jackson’s tracking skills and Bam’s clever offensive strategies made them well recognized in the agency. Then BamBam was shot, the first time either had to take injury leave in years, and Jackson was suddenly pulled from field work and back to his work in personal security. Except, this time, it was not a government official he was guarding, but... well... you know the rest. He was angry when he found out who it was, but he knew not to question Jimin’s decision. Been there, done that; never again. The things that man is capable of. So he decided he’d tolerate the job, like he’d tolerate the girl. She was just three years younger, but they were so incredibly different, it was like witnessing another generation before his eyes. He told himself to ignore her most of the time, for he knew she’d probably be too snooty for his worth. The test he enacted out of pure entertainment. But the results did surprise him. Definitely. Perhaps she wouldn’t be so bad, so long as she was capable of holding her own in a world as demanding as the mob business. Jackson straightened the sleeves of his leather jacket, bringing a hand up to fix the wave of blond hair neatly swept above his forehead. What kind of girl wakes up in the morning, skips breakfast, and then goes straight back to bed before noon? It’d be difficult to adjust to her ways, that much he guaranteed. Luckily, he had visited the coffee shop he frequented before coming in, set with his croissant and organic tea, so he’d put lunch to the side and patiently wait for the girl to return to the world. He sighed. Would be a damned boring wait though. His dark eyes flickered towards where the maid from earlier was approaching. She seemed not to notice him right away, and made for the door leading into Y/N’s room. Jackson eyed her curiously. She was young, with a pretty face and long, black hair, messily wrung into a bun that loosely clung to her head. One of her hands was wrapped around the cart’s handlebar, while the other was tucked away beneath the towels making up its contents. Suspicious. “Excuse me,” His voice took to a demanding tone, but the girl didn’t seem to hear him. She opened the door, just a crack, but Jackson knew exactly what was going on, and he made his move; he had another test to try out. As soon as he lunged forward, with the intent of startling her, the girl had whipped around, revealing a glock that was hidden amidst the white cotton. She let out a deranged battle cry, her charcoal eyes glinting with a thirst for bloodshed, a look Jackson knew all too well. But his experience gave him the upper hand, and ducked under the gun, tackling her into the doorway. They tumbled through, Jackson ignoring the alarmed yelp across the room. He pinned the ‘maid’, moving to disarm her. That’d been too easy a take down. But the woman had another idea; she pulled her skirt up and tore a butterfly blade from her thigh holster, switching it open single-handedly and slicing the pant leg of the man above her. “Shit!” It surprised him more so than it actually hurt him, but he leapt to his feet, dodging her rapid swipes for his chest. Enough of this, if he kept beating around the bush, he’d let the woman injure himself and the girl he was guarding. He had a job to do. It’s what he was hired for, right? Jackson whipped the concealed black beretta from his jeans and pulled the trigger a single time. And that was all it took; the woman fell limp and motionless, and the room went silent. ~~~ It had been an hour since you were kicked out of your own bedroom. In the meantime, you watched as the Family doctor and many of the members who shared the same hall gathered around the scene. You only caught drifts of what was being said, but the unsightly looks of fear and anger were plastered to your Family’s faces. Your father had already been contacted, though Junior was said to have been on his way in the old man’s place. Jackson stood wordlessly next to you, arms crossed. “Aren’t you afraid?” He suddenly asked, peering down at you from the side. You wanted to scoff, but looked ahead instead. “Believe it or not, but I’m used to seeing corpses.” You saw shock pass over Wang’s features, but Junior caught your attention from down the hall, a steady, professional pace leading him towards you. “You alright?” There was never any sincerity with Junior, but in all your years of knowing him, you knew he meant well. You nodded, and watched him glance towards Jackson. He wanted information. Something probably along the lines of why he’d shot a maid and was not being apprehended for it. But there was a proper explanation, no worries. “I was suspicious at first because of the way she looked. She looked too young to be a maid. But she also had a muscular physique. Thighs, calves, triceps, etc. Not like what I have,” You scoffed for real this time. “but more than any other maid in this mansion has. She also held herself in an offensive stance.” Junior took Jackson’s side, observing as the doc ordered your cousins and other Family members to back off. The agent continued. “I couldn’t pull a gun based off that knowledge. So I tested her reaction to me jumping at her. Then she pulled a gun. And you see what happened from there.” Junior didn’t respond, but eyed him for a moment. Then, he looked your way, gesturing towards the body with his head. You nodded, moving forward, leading the two men. You pushed your way through the Family members, all of which you knew by name but were hardly close to. When you were near enough, Junior and Jackson shadowing you, you questioned, “Any Tag on her, Doc?”, and the old Mobman looked up from the girl. There was a brief flash in his eyes, almost like sympathy. So he’d pieced it together already, huh? You signaled for him to explain. “Yes, she’s Tagged alright.” He pulled the neckline of her uniform down just enough to expose the black ink of a symbol. “But this isn’t a family we want to be messing with.” “Shit,” You cursed. “The Mins.” Junior stated above you. You exhaled sharply, damn, that’s no good. The Mins have been around nearly as long as the L/Ns. They were strongest aside from your Family, hands down. Strongest, most vile, vigorous, grudge-bearing, etc. They were the last family yours went to war with. It was before your time, but even you knew what they were capable of, and sending a Baddie in disguise after you meant something was seriously up. You had to get to the bottom of this, or, you had a feeling any one of the L/Ns would end up like that woman. Later, when your father had returned to the mansion, the Family was ordered to the dining hall. It was nearing four o’ clock, and the table was a bustle of questions and chatter on all sides. You were silent, puzzled, twiddling fingers absentmindedly, sat between Jackson and an empty chair. You realized you two hadn’t had much time to talk, but you weren’t sure you wanted to at this point. Maybe you were still mad about his little test earlier. Your thoughts were interrupted when the empty chair beside you was noisily made full. It was your cousin, the stupid smirk on his face evident as he turned immediately to face you. “Looks like little Y/N is finally having a go with the mafia life.” He teased, winking at you. Jaebum was a few years older than you. He was unofficially your cousin—just titled such because of the Family code—having been a rebellious, parentless thug on the street and taken in to the mansion when he was just thirteen. He was an impressive fighter, confident and cocky, but he could definitely hold his own. A classic, reputable bad boy. He fit in like a charm. “Lay off, JB. I’m not in the mood.” “Uh-oh, all it takes is someone trying to kill you to make you angry?” You sent the older Member a snarling glare, feisty like the ones you’ve been throwing around all day. You went to retort, or slap him, which ever came first, but the hall noticeably quieted, and it was with the entry of your father, unsurprisingly trailed by Junior. The big boss sat all high-and-mighty on his throne at the end of the table, and Junior casually took his place standing beside him. “I have called you all here today to make clear of certain information,” He began, and your brow raised. “As I’m sure you’ve all made well aware of, there was an incident regarding my daughter and her newly assigned bodyguard a few hours ago. The woman who was in disguise and killed was in possession of a Min Tag.” The table erupted in a mass of disbelief and anger, the uproar a remarkably expected response to the statement. Yes, this was how well you all knew of the Mins. Jaebum whistled, impressed, next to you. “Now what could you have possibly done to piss off that Family?” That joke was having a field day, wasn’t he? “I did nothing!” You hissed, grip tightening around the tablecloth. Your father’s booming voice silenced the room instantly, a resounding “settle-down!” that rang dangerously in your ears. When the dining hall was so silent you could hear the rhythmic tapping of JB’s shoes on the floor, your father took a breath, folding his hands together. A mob boss and a business man are no different when it came to settling things the right way with his employees. “It is unclear to me why Y/N was targeted, however I am grateful to Mr. Wang for dutifully serving and protecting her from harm. First day on the job had never been such convenient timing.” The old man sent you a pointed look, wordlessly challenging you with a nonverbal ‘I told you so’ kind of thing. Jackson only gave a short nod in acknowledgment, lip tightening at your side. “As for the rest of you, you’re ordered to be on high alert. You were all trained and have the skillset to defend yourselves, and I highly suggest if another incident were to occur, you properly utilize it. As of today, there will be heightened added security, but there is only so much we can provide. I trust, in the name of the L/Ns, you can settle things the way you know best.” And that would be through violence, in case you’re wondering. That’s how mobmen settle things with Baddies or anyone who wrongs us; we shed their blood. Your father stood, as though to conclude the meeting, and you were more than ready to leave, but a loud voice at your side caught his and everyone’s attention. “I have one thing to add, if I may.” Special Officer Jackson Wang... ahhh, always knows when to speak. To your surprise, your father sat back down, a polite and very non-mafia madman look on his face. “Yes, please, Mr. Wang.” You peered to your left, to where the rest of the Family was looking. You can tell they were also shocked by his bold appearance. His eyes searched all of the table, and then went back to your father. “It is my belief that Y/N was and will be the only target. And that it will happen again.” There were gasps unanimously bouncing around the hall, between all the highly trained modern mobsters and even aged folks who made killer names for themselves in the 70s. You yourself went wide-eyed with his sudden speculation. After the hall had quieted down again, you looked to where your father urged the agent to continue, and then back to where he was preparing words to say. “With my experience in government field-work, I grew accustomed to seeing different types of assailants in radical groups,” he sighed, folding his hands behind his back and looking down. “That woman was strong, clearly far from the standard dame. But she was also clearly not trained as well as the studs who actually get work done.” Jackson looked around the table, probably meeting everyone’s eyes to see if he needed to continue. He did, he really did. You found yourself sweating in your seat, anxiously awaiting the point he was going to make. “If she had the skills of a real professional, especially from the Min Family, she wouldn’t have carelessly thrashed her knife around.” That’s right—despite being an agent from the government, who generally discerned themselves with the families, they still knew their stuff. "And why it was only Y/N she was after...” He continued, your foot jolting after the mention of your name. “She could have gone to any other member of this family—Y/N’s older brothers, sisters, even you, sir. I know she saw me guarding Y/N’s room; she could have simply gone after anyone else. Yet, she still targeted just her.” “What are you trying to insinuate, Wang?” Your father pegged, curiously leaning in from his seat as you bit your lip, gazing at the man while your knuckles went white with anticipation. “I’m trying to insinuate, sir,” Jackson breathed out, “that woman was just a ploy. Bait. A warning, even. She was sent by people knowing she’d die because she was a weak link. But she was also a message.” He glanced your way, swallowing thickly. “A message that it’s only just begun.”