Broken Wings

Chapter 3

The men had chained Chan's hands to a long chain bolted to the wall. He could move only within a limited radius, the metal links clinking ominously with every slight motion. His members remained bound to their chairs, their helpless eyes following every rough movement as the men secured Chan in place.

Jae leaned against the wall, watching with a twisted grin as the other men finished chaining Chan. "Man, I can't wait to break him," he said, his voice oozing with malice. Changbin's glare could have burned a hole through him, but his restraints rendered him powerless.

Scarface knelt down beside Chan, his voice a low, menacing whisper. "Remember, it's either you or your members." With that, he stood and walked to the door, signaling for his men to follow. The door slammed shut, the echo resonating in the sterile room.

"Channie," Minho called softly, breaking the heavy silence.

Chan lifted his head, his gaze filled with concern despite his circumstances. "Is everyone okay? Did they hurt you?"

"We're fine, Channie," Changbin reassured him quickly. "Does your leg hurt?"

Chan shook his head, forcing a small, tight smile. He couldn't let them worry about him—not in this nightmare of a situation.

Before anyone could say more, the door creaked open again. Scarface entered, flanked by two masked men. In his hand, he carried a metal baton, its tip darkly stained with something Chan didn't want to identify.

"Leader," Scarface greeted, his tone almost playful. "Time for your first test."

Chan's head lifted, his dark eyes blazing with defiance. "I already told you—I'll do whatever you want. Just leave them alone."

Scarface chuckled, shaking his head as if amused. "Oh, it's not that simple. Words are cheap, after all."

He gestured toward one of his men, who strode forward and yanked I.N out of his chair. The youngest member cried out, his voice cracking as he struggled against the rough grip.

"Stop!" Chan shouted, lurching against his chains, the metal cutting into his wrists. "He's just a kid! Don't touch him!"

Scarface ignored him, turning his attention to the trembling boy. "Tell me, little one. Do you think your leader loves you? Do you think he'd do anything to protect you?"

I.N didn't answer, his tear-streaked face frozen in terror.

Scarface sighed dramatically before swinging the baton into I.N's stomach. I.N collapsed to his knees with a strangled gasp, clutching his abdomen.

"No!" Chan's voice cracked as he strained against his chains, desperation etched across his face. "Stop it! I'll do anything—just stop hurting them!"

Scarface turned to him, a sinister grin stretching across his scarred face. "Anything, you say? Fine."

He walked over to Chan, crouching until their faces were level. "If you want me to stop, then prove it. Beg me. On your knees. Make it convincing."

Chan froze, his breath catching in his throat. His pride screamed at him to refuse, but the sound of I.N's pained sobs shattered his resolve. Slowly, he lowered his head, pressing his forehead to the cold, sterile floor.

"Please," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Please don't hurt them. I'll do anything you want. Just leave them alone."

The room fell silent, the weight of Chan's surrender suffocating the air. His members watched in horror, their hearts breaking as their strong, unyielding leader was reduced to this.

Scarface's cruel laugh echoed through the room. "Good. That's more like it."

He motioned for his men to release I.N, who stumbled back before being shoved into his chair again, his hands re-bound but his legs left unrestrained.