Kapitel 12: Home Sweet Home IV
Before James could even catch his breath, the sharp echo of gunshots rang out from above. His heart rate spiked, a sudden, suffocating rush of panic gripping him for the briefest of moments. His head turned instinctively toward the sound, the cold edge of reality sinking in that his family was still in danger. His heart pounded, and his pulse raced. That distraction was enough—just enough—for the enemy to strike again.
A bullet zipped past his leg, grazing the flesh with a sickening, sharp burn. The impact caused James to stumble, his balance faltering as the bloodied floor seemed to give way beneath him. He hit the ground hard, the air forced from his lungs in a violent gasp. The pain was brief, but it sent a jolt of anger through him, igniting the fire that had been simmering under his skin. He pushed himself back up, fury replacing any trace of hesitation.
But before he could regain his footing, the doors of the dining room creaked open, a shadow looming in the doorway. The figure that entered was tall, broad-shouldered, with a cruel smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. His eyes gleamed with malice, a predator in the midst of his hunt.
Simon.
"Not as fast as you used to be, huh?" Simon's voice was smooth, mocking, but it carried a weight that made the air around James feel even heavier. He stepped into the room slowly, his gaze flicking over the bodies that littered the floor, each one a testament to James's brutality. His lips curled further into a grin, the anticipation of the moment too sweet to resist.
"Do you know what I'm going to do to your family, James?" Simon's voice was a low whisper, each word dripping with venom. "I'll make them watch as I slice them apart, piece by piece. First, your wife. Then your children." He took a step closer, savoring every moment. "I'll make them feel every inch of pain before they die. You'll hear their screams, see their blood, and know that you failed them. Every breath will be a reminder that you couldn't save them."
"Do you love your sister, James?" Simon asked, his tone unnervingly calm. "I'd hate for something to happen to her... but you see, I'm a man of patience. And I know exactly how to make you suffer."
James felt a chill crawl down his spine. His thoughts flashed to Mariah, to his family, to the people he had sworn to protect.
"I'm the one you want right leave them out of it.....," James growled, stepping forward, but Simon raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks.
"See, that's where you're wrong," Simon said, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "Your sister, Mariah… she's the perfect leverage. You wouldn't want me to hurt her, would you? But trust me, I can make her scream like you've never heard before."
A sickening smile spread across Simon's face as he leaned closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper.
James's fists clenched at his sides, the words cutting through him like a knife. His jaw tightened, the fury threatening to break free in an eruption of violence. But Simon wasn't finished.
Simon's grin widened as he saw the realization in James's eyes. "You remember your brother, Russel, don't you? The one who thought he could stand against us." He paused, savoring the fear he had just instilled. "I made sure he would never see his family again. I... gouged his eyes out and filled the sockets with something far worse than death. Acid. It burned through him, James. His screams were beautiful, the agony in his voice still echoes in my ears."
"And your sister?" Simon said, his voice dripping with malice. "She'll be next. I'll break her piece by piece until there's nothing left. You see, I enjoy watching the strong crumble. I will leave her begging, and I won't stop until she wishes for death."
"Don't worry about dying just yet, though." Simon's voice took on a dark, almost playful tone. "I won't kill you, James. Not yet. No. I've got something much worse in mind for you."
James's eyes narrowed, his body still shaking with adrenaline, his fists twitching at his sides.
Simon's grin widened as he stepped closer, almost savoring the moment. "I'm going to cut off your hands and your legs. I'm going to make you live, James. Live to watch your family die, to know that you couldn't protect them. I'll keep you alive, broken and crippled, so you can think about them. Every moment. Every second, as you slowly fade into oblivion."
The cruelty in Simon's voice was palpable, the malice in his eyes unmistakable. He didn't want to end James's life quickly; he wanted to drag it out, to twist the knife in every conceivable way. It wasn't about death for Simon. It was about torture. About destroying what James held dear in the most brutal, agonizing way possible.
Simon took a step forward, raising a blade in his hand—shiny, long, and sharp. It glinted menacingly in the dim light of the room. He slowly approached James, the tip of the knife aimed at his legs.
"I'll start with your hands, then move to your legs," Simon murmured, almost in reverence, as though the agony he was about to cause was some sick form of art. "By the time I'm done, you won't even be able to hold your own broken body together."
James's heart raced. His hands shook, his mind flooded with a thousand violent thoughts. His muscles burned with exertion, his body an aching mess, but the thought of his family, of the threats hanging over their heads, fueled his rage.
.
.
.
The tension in the room was unbearable. Mariah's fingers clenched tightly around the grip of her handgun, the cold metal feeling heavier with every passing second. There was only one bullet left in the chamber. The shotgun she had relied on earlier now sat useless on the floor, its shells spent. Her breath caught in her throat, but she forced herself to remain calm—if only outwardly. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, the emotions she refused to show churning inside her. Was this truly the end?
What terrified her more than the idea of her own death was the soft, tremulous sobs coming from the closet. Rachel and Sujin, the children who had hidden away in fear, were trying their best to stifle their cries, but there was no mistaking their terror. This wasn't supposed to happen—not here, not in South Korea, where gun laws were strict, and this kind of violence seemed like something straight out of a nightmare. What kind of people were they dealing with?
The silence was suddenly shattered by the sound of heavy footsteps, echoing from the hallway. The air grew colder, more oppressive, as figures entered the room, their faces obscured by masks. They moved with a predatory grace, weapons in hand, eyes glinting coldly beneath the masks.
Before either Mariah or Emily could react, one of the masked men swung his gun with brutal force, striking Mariah across the head. The blow sent her reeling, the world spinning, blood seeping from the gash in her forehead. She collapsed to the floor, dazed, but the men were already moving, dragging her by her hair, and she couldn't help but let out a pained groan.
Emily didn't stand a chance either. The other assailant struck her in the same manner, the gun cracking against the side of her head with a sickening thud. She, too, fell to the floor, barely conscious but still trying to fight back.
"Pathetic," one of them sneered, dragging Mariah across the room by her hair, his grip tight and cruel. "You're all just like little lambs waiting to be slaughtered."
Emily, struggling to lift herself off the floor, could barely speak, but her voice, weak and strained, broke through the haze of pain. "Please... don't," she begged, her words laced with desperation, though she knew it wouldn't matter.
The men simply laughed, their amusement as cold as the steel in their hands.
The sobs from the closet grew louder, more desperate. Rachel and Sujin couldn't hide their fear any longer. The men turned toward the closet, the cold grins spreading across their faces as they stepped forward. Slowly, the closet door was pulled open, revealing the children huddled together, faces streaked with snot and tears, eyes wide with terror.
"Well, well," one of the masked men said, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Look at what we have here. A pair of little mice hiding in their hole." He crouched down in front of them, his eyes gleaming with malice as he studied their trembling forms.
"Please," Emily gasped from the floor, her voice cracking. "Leave them alone... please..."
Her pleas fell on deaf ears.
The man leaned in, his lips curling into a sickening smile. "You should've taught them better," he muttered, before standing up. He reached down and kicked Emily in the stomach, sending her sprawling back to the floor with a grunt of pain.
Rachel, her heart pounding in her chest, watched in horror as her mother was beaten, helpless to stop it. But her desperation was a fire that couldn't be extinguished. It surged inside her, and without thinking, she pushed herself off the bed. The pain from her bruised body didn't matter anymore.
Rachel grabbed the gun, still clutched in her hand, and raised it toward the men. "No!" she shouted, her voice shaking but determined. She pointed the gun directly at the man who had been taunting them.
The masked man turned to face her, a sneer on his face, as if he found her bravery amusing. "You think you can stop us?" he said, reaching for his own weapon. But before he could react, Rachel ran toward him, her small body crashing into his chest with all the force she could muste
And then, without warning, the room seemed to distort like something that was never supposed to be alive just awakened,
A low rumble vibrated beneath their feet. The bed in the corner of the room their bodies slamming into the walls with sickening crunches. thrown with a brutal, inhuman strength, slammed into the group of men, knocking them off their feet. The men screamed in surprise and pain as the frame collided with their bodies, crushing them with an impossible force. Wood splintered, metal bent, and the weight of the bed piled on top of them, smashing their bodies beneath the sheer mass of it.
The impact was so violent that their bodies seemed to explode upon contact, splattering the walls with grotesque splashes, leaving nothing behind but mangled remains, squashed like overripe tomatoes.
Rachel stared in shock, her eyes wide as she watched the carnage unfold. The blood splattered across the floor, the room echoing with the muffled thud of the bed crushing the life out of the men beneath it. The force was so powerful that the walls seemed to shake with the sheer brutality of it.
When the dust finally settled, there was no sign of the men anymore—only the mangled remains, their bodies crushed beyond recognition. The bed frame lay in pieces, now just a twisted heap of metal and wood.
The masked men froze, their heads snapping to the direction where the bed came.....it was Marco.
Marco stood amidst the wreckage of the masked men, the room's atmosphere thick with fear and dark energy, Emily and Mariah slowly regained their senses, their bodies aching from the brutal blows they'd taken. They both struggled to sit up, their heads pounding, their vision blurry. The sounds of pain and the twisted reality around them barely registered at first. But then, their eyes locked onto the man standing before them.
Their breaths hitched as they both looked at Marco. The man they had known, the one who had been asleep, lifeless beneath the bed moments ago, was gone. In his place was something else—something monstrous. The change in him was undeniable. Emily's pulse raced as she stared at him, her mind desperately trying to piece together what had happened, but the fear in her chest made it hard to think clearly.
Her eyes searched Marco's face, but she didn't recognize the person who stood before her. His grin was twisted, far too wide, and his eyes were empty of anything human. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating the air, as if every inch of the room had succumbed to his darkness. She could feel the hairs on her neck stand up, a chill running down her spine. He was like a predator, something feral and dangerous, waiting to strike.
Mariah, who had been trying to steady herself on the floor, froze completely. Her heart hammered against her chest, the blood drained from her face. She blinked several times, as though trying to clear her mind and understand what she was seeing. But the person in front of her was unrecognizable. Marco's eyes, now gleaming with malice, were colder than she had ever seen-like someone else entirely—a predator, a demon unleashed.
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