The moment Niko stepped past the rusted chain-link gate, the silence snapped.

Someone tackled him hard. His back slammed against concrete. A blade kissed the edge of his throat.

"Name. Now." Jungkook’s face hovered above his, jaw tight, eyes cold. "You get one lie. One."

Before Niko could even breathe, another voice cut in.

"Let him talk, Jungkook. We don’t need another corpse today." Namjoon emerged from the shadows, wrapped in a heavy coat, a revolver tucked into his belt. His expression? Unreadable. "But if he runs, shoot him."

A shotgun cocked nearby. "I’ll shoot him either way if he moves too fast." Yoongi leaned against a support beam, calm like the dead, but his aim was perfect.

Jimin stepped forward, crouched beside Niko. His fingers brushed the collar of Niko’s jacket like he was checking for a wire… or sizing him up. "No bite marks. Pretty eyes, though. Dangerous combo."

"Who cares what he looks like?" Hoseok stood with his arms crossed, still covered in dried blood from whatever mess he cleaned up an hour ago. "He slows us down, he’s gone. Fast."

Seokjin was near the fire, back turned, skin glowing orange in the low light. He didn’t look up. "If he steals food, I’ll carve my name into his ribs."

Taehyung? Silent. Watching. He never spoke first. Just sketched something in his journal. Niko’s face was already on the page.

Namjoon walked closer. Too close. "This isn’t a rescue camp. You’re not safe here. You’re not trusted. You’re not family." He stopped. "But… if you’ve got something we need—skills, knowledge, spine—you might live to see tomorrow."

He glanced back at the others.

"Speak, stranger. Tell us why we don’t put a bullet in you and call it mercy."

The fire crackled. The air tightened. And Niko had one shot to prove he mattered.