Mouse Trap [Oneshots] Blood Oath-4

The changing room curtain pulls back with a quiet shuffle. Ren steps out first, composed as ever, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve. His posture is rigid, movements calculated.

You emerge a few steps later, adjusting your hair, eyes flickering toward the mall floor like nothing's amiss. The air between you both is heavy with something unspoken.

The young employee standing nearby straightens with a jolt, clearly having waited to inspect the stall. Her lips part, maybe to ask if everything's alright—but her gaze lands on Ren's face.

And that's enough.

That cold, elegant sharpness in his eyes. The way his presence commands silence. She swallows her questions and bows slightly, stepping aside without a word.

Ren tilts his head politely at her, like a wolf in gentleman's clothing, and walks ahead with long strides. You follow, the corner of your lips twitching—part amusement, part triumph.

He slips behind the wheel, setting the bags in the backseat. The doors click shut. You stretch, tilting your head lazily toward him as he starts the engine. The mall lights blur behind you, replaced by dusky amber streets and the quiet hum of the city winding down.

Ren glances at the rearview mirror, then at your reflection in the glass window.

Ren

"You bought so many things, I was about to get broke,"

He says with a playful lilt, one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on your knee.

You scoff, flicking your hair over your shoulder.

Y/N

"It's not a lot, geez..."

You mutter, crossing your arms, nose in the air like royalty accused of being a thief.

He laughs, low and real, his eyes briefly softening.

Ren

"Mm. Not a lot, she says," *muses.*

Ren

"You know how many stores we went to, princess?"

Y/N

"Five!"

Ren

"Seven."

He corrects, grinning as he turns the wheel.

You don’t argue. Instead, you lean back, basking in the peace of the shared silence. The car hums along the road, streetlights blurring into gold streaks.

Later that night:

Ren carries the bags into your room, carefully setting them onto your bed, arranging them with a precision most wouldn't bother with. Shirts neatly folded, boxes aligned.

He doesn’t linger. His hand brushes against the soft fabric of a new dress, but he turns to leave.

Ren

"I'll go prepare dinner,"

Ren

"You try on the clothes, princess."

But he stops.

Your fingers curl around his wrist.

He looks down.

Your hand is delicate, but the grip is sure.

Ren

"What's wrong, princess?"

He asks, smoothly. The charming mask slides back into place.

Ren

"You try on the clothes—I'll go and…"

Y/N

"Stay,"

You whisper. Your eyes are lowered, almost shyly.

Y/N

"Watch me dressing."

Silence.

It's a soft command wrapped in innocence. But it hits him like a thunderclap.

Ren's smile dies slowly, replaced by something darker, more primal.

His breathing shifts, no longer steady. His hand twitches in your grip.

You're doing it again.

Calling out the monster.

He steps closer, gently pulling your hand away from his wrist, but not letting go. His other hand rises to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

Ren

"You always know how to wake the beast, don't you?"

He murmurs, voice low and reverent—like he's standing before something holy and cursed.

Y/N

"......."

Your gaze meet his.

You don't answer.

You don't have to.

A week Later:

The sun is high, and the school bell rings like a melody announcing freedom. Students flood the gates, chatting, laughing, scattering like birds.

You stand alone, bag slung over one shoulder, eyes scanning the road.

Ren is late.

You lean against a pole, tapping your foot. Ten minutes pass. You check your phone. No message.

Y/N

"He's never late..." *you mutter*

You wait another five minutes before deciding to walk. Your house isn’t far—maybe you’ll meet him on the way.

The streets are quiet, save for the rustle of wind and the occasional bark of a dog behind distant fences.

Your steps slow with time. The sky has dimmed slightly with a passing cloud.

Then a car pulls up beside you.

Sleek. Dark windows. Too quiet.

The window rolls down smoothly, and a man inside smiles politely. He holds up a small card.

"Hey kid, do you know this address?" he asks, voice casual.

You frown, stepping closer to peer at it. Something feels… off. You squint.

The card is blank.

Your brows furrow.

Y/N

"It's—" *you begin.*

But too late.

Another figure emerges from behind—you don’t hear him coming.

A white cloth presses against your mouth and nose. The scent is sharp—chemicals. Chloroform.

Your eyes widen in alarm, hands scrambling to fight—but your limbs grow heavy.

The world tilts. Your vision blurs. The man with the card lowers it, now smiling wider.

"Got her."

Your bag falls to the ground with a dull thud.

You slump into the arms of the one behind you, already unconscious.

The car door swings open.

They drag you inside like a broken doll and shut the door.

Tires screech softly against the pavement.

And just like that, you disappear into the shadows.