The next day when I enter the training room, pairs of eyes turn to face me, making me feel out of place. Across the room stands Jiyeong, my legs walk me to him without my body knowing.

"Taehyung," Jiyeong greets me, and I bow in response.

"Are you," I hesitate for a moment. "Are you going to separate Jeongguk away from me?" This time, my voice comes out steady.

"No."

Relief flushes my body. My head raises up to meet Jiyeong's face.

"I figured you just need to train more, and I don't see why I should change Jeongguk with someone else as your partner," He says, half smiling at me.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, training starts in five," Jiyeong says, pushing past me and walks into the room where initiates learn to fire a gun properly, and with precision.

Jimin emerges from the locker room, and he sprints over to my side. Legs lock around my hip, and arms circle my neck. My body drops from the sudden force.

"Jimin, get off me." I try to push the clinging Jimin, but he is stronger than me. I let my best friend cling onto me for awhile.

"Aren't you going to warm up?" One of the initiates, Changhyuk asks. Jimin reluctantly pushes himself away from me, and says, "Shouldn't you be minding your own business?" Changhyuk sends Jimin a pointed look before walking to the room.

"Why are you such being such a clingy loser today?" I question sarcastically. Jimin pouts cutely, saying, "I pushed Yoongi off my bed while I was asleep, and now he won't let me cling onto him because he's angry."

"Then apologise," I state.

"I did."

"Shall we go the room now?" I ask, trying to change the topic.

"Fine."

When we walk into the room, I immediately spot Jeongguk and his group of friends. I want to walk over to him, but I can't leave my best friend behind.

Jiyeong clears his throat loudly, catching room of initiates' attention. The room falls into a layer of uncomfortable silence as guns are being handed to us by the instructors.

"Today, instead of using melee weapons in hand-to-hand combat, we'll using a ranged weapon. As all of you know, there has been an uprising between our packs and Red Night Pack, and to prepare ourselves for that, each and every one of you must train well with that gun in your hand. Make sure you aim and shoot with precision and accuracy. Every bullet counts, so make sure you treat this training as though it's a real war," Jiyeong explains. His stare is undeniably serious as he scans our face for signs of mischief.

"We'll be starting training now. Remember: you are holding a loaded gun, act like it."

The horn sounds, and we take our positions in front of the wall with the targets on it—a human sized plywood with five red circles on it. Our target shoot is the middle circle.

I set my feet shoulder-width apart, and wrap both hands around the handle of the gun. It has been a while since I last held a gun, when we were attacked by another pack, so the gun feels heavy and difficult to lift away from my body. Once my gun is lifted up from my sides, I stretch my arms to keep the gun as far from my face as possible. My index finger rest against the outside of the trigger as I aim. I take a deep breathe and squeeze the trigger hesitantly at first and then harder, and the bullet shoots out from the muzzle. The sound is deafening and hurts my ears, and the recoil is stronger than I had anticipated, sending my hands back. I stumble. I don't know where my bullet went, but I know it's not near any of the circles.

This time, I bend my knees slightly and aim properly, and fire. A bullet hole appears beside the circle on the top left. I smile a little. And continue to fire again and again and again.

It takes me six tries to hit a spot near the middle circle. I grit my teeth, and squeeze the trigger hard but careful not to apply extra force to the sides. The recoil shakes my hand a little, but my feet stays planted to the ground, and my knees bending help even out the force of the recoil. The bullet hits the middle circle. A rush of energy and confidence spreads through me.

I think about my parents. Would they approve of this? Have they always wanted me to be an obedient omega waiting for his mate? Because if they did, they would be disappointed if they saw me firing a gun. Or have they anticipated I would grow up to be a fighter? If they did, would they approve of me using ranged weapons, or do they expect me to only study hand-to-hand combat? Which is worse? I don't know, they both seem equally bad.

+++

By the time we're dismissed for lunch, my arms feel sore and burning from holding up the gun for too long, and my fingers are difficult to straighten. Jimin invites Jeongguk and his friends to sit with us. Every time I look at Jeongguk, I remember what happened yesterday, and my face flushed, so I try not to look at him.

I move my chopped pieces of chicken with my fork. Today's lunch stole my appetite away. My thoughts drift back to the day I left Namjoon's house, the day I moved into the same dorm as Jeongguk. When he told me about our parents, and how he suspects it was a pack that killed them.

"How was training with a gun, Taehyung?" Jeongguk says. I stare at him. "It was fun," I reply sarcastically, but he doesn't take it to heart. Another good thing about him. The table is silent after Jeongguk and my talk.

"So," Jeongguk's friend, Shinjoon, speaks up, breaking the ice. "Jiyeong mentioned something about an uprising between another pack and our packs. What do you think it was all about?"

"He's just trying to build tension, so that we'll treat training seriously," I say, even though, I'm curious as well. Jeongguk and his friends seem to believe me, after all, Jiyeong has been my instructor for five years, and we're supposedly close though we've only exchanged a few words and greetings.

"But if it was just to build tension, why would the instructors cut short our break in exchange for more hours of training?" Shinjoon ask. I breathe in deeply. "Why do you keep asking questions? How am I supposed to know? I'm not even that close to any of the instructors." I say.

"Sorry, I'm just really curious that's all," He apologises. A tinge of guilt pricks me, and I ignore the feeling. We eat in silence. The atmosphere feels thick with awkwardness despite the loud chatters resonating throughout the canteen from other initiates' table.

I chomp down on the pieces of cold chicken and force myself to swallow it. I have to get out of here soon, because my lunch isn't the only thing choking me—the uneasiness lingering around our table is too, it feels as if everyone is afraid to speak, afraid to say something wrong and increase the tension.

Once I'm done, I politely thank the others for sitting with Jimin and me, and force Jimin up from his seat and out of the canteen.

"What are you doing? I wasn't even done with my lunch!" Jimin whines as I dump our leftovers into the rubbish bin outside of the cafeteria. My mind is too busy swirling with thoughts to pay attention to Jimin's complains.

I wonder: what if the uprising is real? Is it linked to my old pack? What did Namjoon meant when he said the attack on Scarlet Night Pack was planned by another pack and not the rouges. I'm not sure, and the only way I can find out is to ask Jiyeong, and find my old pack members.

√a.n.

My chapters are really bad these days, sorry. I'll check this chapter tomorrow for any grammatical errors, so, goodnight :)<3