The party had ended in a blur of polite goodbyes and lingering glances. I made my way toward my room, mind swirling with conflicting emotions. The laughter and music still echoed faintly from the beach, but all I felt was a bone-deep exhaustion. I was just about to slip into the safety of my room when I caught sight of Mo-eum. She was peeking into the study, her gaze intense, and her posture tense.

I frowned, approaching her carefully. "Mo-eum," I whispered, reaching out to touch her arm, but she grabbed me swiftly, pulling me close and gesturing toward the study door.

“Look,” she murmured, her voice barely audible, her eyes wide with something close to fear. I turned, following her gaze into the dimly lit study. There stood Taehyung, Luca, Beomgyu, and Jake — my cousin. My stomach twisted at the sight of Jake; I never liked the way he looked at me, the possessive glint in his eyes whenever we met. He always managed to find ways to brush his hand against me, to lean in a little too close, his touch lingering in ways that left me feeling violated.

But this wasn’t just another family gathering. Umberto, now my father’s right-hand man, stood by, his eyes cold and calculating, and then I saw him—my father. My heart stilled. The men were deep in discussion, their voices low and serious. I was about to turn away, to drag Mo-eum with me back to the safety of the hallway, when Taehyung’s voice cut through the quiet.

"I saw how you looked at her," Taehyung's voice was low, almost a growl, but it carried a weight that made every hair on my body stand on end. His gaze was fixed on Jake, and his eyes blazed with a barely restrained fury.

“Like a juicy peach you wanted to pluck,” Beomgyu added, clearly entertained by the tension, a dark smile playing on his lips.

Jake’s eyes darted toward my father, searching for some form of backup, but my father’s gaze remained impassive, as cold as steel. Taehyung took a step closer to Jake, his tone growing darker. “Don’t deny it. I know desire when I see it. And you desire Miso.” His words were like a whip crack in the silence, each one sharper than the last.

Jake shifted uncomfortably, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, he sneered, his voice dripping with arrogance. “You aren’t a member of the Bratva. Nobody would tell you anything even if I fuck her. I could break her in for you.” The vulgarity of his words hit me like a punch, and I clutched Mo-eum’s arm tightly, trying to steady myself.

Taehyung's expression darkened, his entire body taut with rage, but Jake, oblivious or foolishly daring, kept speaking, his voice a disgusting whisper of a taunt. "Maybe I’ll even film it for you.”

Before I could process his words, Taehyung lunged. In a blink, Jake was on the floor, Taehyung’s knee pressing hard into his spine. Jake writhed beneath him, but Taehyung’s grip was relentless, his hand twisting Jake’s arm back with brutal precision. His other hand reached under his jacket, and in one swift motion, he pulled out a knife, the blade glinting in the low light.

I couldn’t move, my body frozen, every instinct screaming at me to look away, but I couldn’t. Mo-eum clutched my arm tighter, but I didn’t pull her away. Taehyung’s gaze was fierce, unyielding, and he looked every bit the predator, every inch the man willing to protect his claim at any cost.

"Leave now," I whispered to Mo-eum, trying to sound calm. But she didn’t move, her gaze locked on the scene unfolding before us, her face pale and terrified.

And then, with terrifying calmness, Taehyung brought the knife down. The blade sliced through flesh and bone with a sickening sound, and Jake’s scream filled the room, piercing and raw. My vision swam, the room spinning around me. I bit down on my fist, trying to stifle the horrified sound clawing up my throat.

Mo-eum didn’t have my restraint. She let out a high-pitched shriek before her body lurched, and she vomited, her retching sounds sharp and painful in the silence. Her head turned away from me, but the damage was done.

The room fell silent, and I knew, I just knew, they had heard us. My stomach churned as I braced myself, clutching Mo-eum’s upper arms to keep her steady. The door was yanked open, and my father stood there, fury etched into every line of his face. Behind him were Luca and Beomgyu, their weapons still drawn, but they lowered them slightly when they saw us.

Mo-eum was silent, trembling but not crying, though her face was deathly pale. I tightened my hold on her, anchoring her as best I could, feeling the weight of my own dread crushing down on me.

“Of course,” my father’s voice was low and full of contempt as he looked down at Mo-eum. “I should have known it was you causing trouble again.” His hand shot out, striking her hard across the face.

Without thinking, I took a step forward, moving to shield her, my own body ready to take whatever punishment he intended. But before his hand could reach me, Taehyung caught his wrist, his bloodied knife still in his other hand.

Time seemed to freeze, and I could feel the tension thickening in the room, as dangerous as a coiled snake. Taehyung’s grip on my father’s wrist was firm, almost respectful, but there was no mistaking the threat behind it.

“She’s mine to deal with now,” Taehyung said, his voice as steady and unyielding as granite. He released my father’s wrist, and the men around us visibly relaxed, though their weapons remained close at hand.

My father’s gaze flickered between us, the anger in his eyes barely concealed. He gestured toward me, a sneer twisting his mouth. “Then would you like the honor of beating some sense into her?”

Taehyung’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t waver. “She didn’t disobey me,” he replied, his voice calm, dismissing the suggestion with finality.

My father inhaled sharply, then glanced at Umberto. “Take Mo-eum and Miso to their rooms and make sure they stay there.”

Umberto gave a small nod, sheathing his knife and gesturing for us to follow. My heart hammered painfully in my chest as I passed my father, my hand gripping Mo-eum’s like a lifeline. I could feel her shaking as we stepped over the blood pooled on the floor, Jake’s severed finger lying abandoned in the crimson mess.

“Don’t look,” I murmured to Mo-eum as she flinched, her gaze drawn to the blood-streaked floor.

But she couldn’t look away, her face contorting in horror. Her eyes were filled with tears, her lip split and bleeding from my father’s slap. I squeezed her hand tighter, silently vowing to protect her.

“I’m here,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, but she looked at me, grounding herself in the midst of the nightmare.

“Women,” my father’s voice sneered from behind us, filled with disgust. “They can’t even bear the sight of a bit of blood.”

The door closed behind us, cutting off the twisted mockery in his tone, but the words lingered, clawing at my heart.

Umberto led us through the corridor, his steps silent, unyielding. I could feel Mo-eum’s pain and humiliation as we climbed the stairs. When we reached her room, I tried to follow her inside, desperate for comfort, for anything familiar and safe.

But Umberto stopped me with a firm hand. "I need to help Mo-eum with her lips" then he let me inside "will you be guarding our door all night" I said challengingly. “Better get used to it,” he murmured, a note of finality in his tone. “Now that you're Taehyung’s, he’ll make sure you’re always guarded.”

Reluctantly, I stepped into Mo-eum’s room, and as soon as the door closed, I rushed to her side, carefully cleaning the blood from her lip. Her breath was shaky, her gaze distant, and I knew the horror of tonight would haunt her just as it would haunt me.

I felt Mo-eum’s breathing slow as she drifted into an uneasy sleep.

I, however, lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the glow of the dim light casting shadows that danced and twisted, reminding me of the men who waited outside, of the silent wars and unspoken promises.

Taehyung was right. I was his now, whether I liked it or not. And as much as I wanted to resist, as much as I loathed the thought of being bound to someone with such darkness inside him, a part of me knew… I didn’t have a choice.

In the morning, I would be a Kim. And there was no escape from that.

That night, we slept in her bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, clinging to a fragile sense of safety. I kept the lights on, fearing that the darkness would bring back the images of blood and pain, but even with the brightness, the nightmares came anyway.

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The hot water cascaded over me, but the warmth did little to ease the cold that had settled deep within. This was it—the day I'd be handed over, bound to a man I barely knew, a man I didn't love. Tonight, I'd be Miso Kim, wife to the future Capo dei Capi, and former virgin. I leaned my forehead against the shower glass, closing my eyes and inhaling the steamy air, wishing it could fill the hollow ache in my chest.

When I finally shut off the water, wrapping myself in a plush robe, a shiver still lingered. It wasn’t the cold air against my damp skin; it was something far more chilling—an inescapable sense of foreboding.

A soft knock broke the silence. Mo-eum entered, a cup of coffee and a bowl of fruit in her hands. She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a wry smile. “Coffee and fruit salad. Apparently, pancakes are off-limits to prevent bloating. What bullshit.”

I forced a small smile, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “I’m not hungry.”

She huffed, thrusting the bowl into my hands. “You can’t go all day without eating, or you’ll faint halfway down the aisle. Though, on second thought, I’d love to see Taehyung’s face if you did.”

I took a sip of coffee, letting the bitterness ground me, then reluctantly picked up a piece of banana from the bowl. “Father would be furious if I made a scene. And Taehyung…” I trailed off, unsure how to finish the thought. I could barely imagine his reaction—likely a mix of anger and frustration at my defiance.

Mo-eum’s gaze softened as she took in my barely contained dread. “The beautician is here with her entire entourage. Apparently, they need a whole army to prepare us.”

A weak smile tugged at my lips. “Let’s not keep them waiting, then.”

In the bedroom, the flurry of preparations began. The beauticians worked in silence, each movement precise and practiced, as if they were preparing a porcelain doll for display. Hours passed, marked only by the growing tightness in my chest and the weight of the intricate makeup and hairstyle they piled on. My hair was styled into an elaborate updo, adorned with diamond pins and tiny pearls, setting the stage for the diamond headpiece I would wear.

Finally, my cousin Lily, and, my aunts, Livia and Maria, entered, carrying my wedding dress with reverence, their faces a mixture of pride and sympathy.

I turned to see the dress hanging from a mannequin, and a murmur of surprise escaped me. The gown was breathtaking—an off-the-shoulder masterpiece, the bodice fitted and adorned with shimmering crystals that sparkled under the light, like a thousand stars captured in delicate threads. The sweetheart neckline framed my collarbones and emphasized my shoulders, a daring cut that somehow still felt elegant.

Lily’s eyes widened as she took in the dress. “I love the sweetheart neckline. It gives you a breathtaking cleavage,” she said, grinning mischievously.

Aunt Livia chuckled, her gaze warm. “Taehyung will surely appreciate it.”

Mo-eum rolled her eyes as she opened a small box, revealing a stunning necklace—diamonds and pearls nestled in a delicate web of white gold. She whistled under her breath. “Taehyung doesn’t spare any expense, does he? That necklace and your headpiece together must cost more than some people’s houses.”

Their banter faded into the background as I slipped into the dress, the heavy fabric settling around me like a cage. The bodice hugged my frame, each inch carefully tailored, leading to a skirt that flowed around me in soft waves, cascading to the floor like liquid moonlight. The intricate beading created a delicate pattern, each stitch meticulously placed, as if to trap me in the beauty of the garment, forcing me to wear my own prison as something regal.

The laughter and voices of the guests drifted through the open window, underscored by a series of dull clunks that caught my attention.

“What’s that noise?” I asked, looking out the window. Down below, the men were disarming, each one placing a gun into a plastic box set up at the entrance.

Mo-eum joined me, frowning. “How many?”

I cocked an eyebrow. “How many guns does each man put away?”

She did a quick count, her expression growing grim as realization dawned. “One each.”

I nodded, a cold smile tugging at my lips. “Only a fool leaves home with less than two.”

Her brow furrowed. “Then why the show?”

“It’s symbolic,” I murmured. “Like this entire wedding.”

Aunt Livia's daughter Lily shuddered. “I don’t understand. If they’re here for peace, why not attend unarmed? It’s a wedding, not a battlefield.”

“There have been red weddings before,” I replied, my voice low. Memories of whispered stories flitted through my mind—of brides drowned in blood, their white gowns stained crimson. “Once, a bride’s dress turned red with bloodshed.”

Mo-eum stepped close, wrapping her arms around me. “We could still run, you know. We could ditch the dress, sneak out. They’re all busy downstairs; no one would notice.”

Lily’s eyes lit up with the idea, hope sparking in her gaze. “Yes! We could leave before anyone even realizes you’re gone.”

I shook my head, fighting the urge to give in. Taehyung would notice, and so would everyone else. “No. It’s too late. There would be blood on my hands if I broke the agreement. They’d kill each other in retaliation.”

“Everyone here has blood on their hands, Miso. Every single damn person,” Mo-eum hissed, her frustration evident.

“Don’t curse,” I admonished, though the words felt hollow, like an echo of my father’s voice.

Mo-eum rolled her eyes, mocking his tone. “A lady doesn’t curse. Look where being an obedient lady got you.”

Her words stung, but I didn’t deny their truth. Compliance had led me straight into the arms of a man feared by all, a man who wore cruelty like a second skin.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice soft, apologetic.

Before I could respond, Lily stepped forward with the veil, carefully attaching it to the diamond headpiece atop my head. She straightened it gently, smoothing the delicate lace over my shoulders.

“I wish you were marrying for love,” Mo-eum whispered fiercely. “I wish you could giggle about your wedding night like other brides. I wish you didn’t look so damn sad.”

Silence settled over us, heavy and thick. Eventually, Lily glanced toward the bed, shifting uncomfortably. “Is this…where you’ll sleep tonight?”

My stomach twisted. “No, as I know. Taehyung and I will be in the master bedroom.” I swallowed, the weight of the implication sinking in. Sleep felt like a distant, unreachable thing.

A soft knock interrupted us, and I straightened, my expression hardening into the mask I’d perfected. Aunt Maria, Livia, and my mother entered. My mother’s gaze softened with pride as she took me in, though a flicker of worry lingered beneath it.

“You look beautiful,” Maria said warmly, her voice filled with admiration.

I forced a smile, acknowledging her compliment. Mother’s eyes fell on the lace garter resting on my vanity. She picked it up with a small smile. “Do you need help putting this on?”

I shook my head and slid it up my thigh, feeling a strange sense of finality settle over me. Tonight, Taehyung would remove it, symbolically claiming me in front of everyone.

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Author's Note:

Well, that escalated quickly, didn't it? Who knew family drama could take a turn so dark it'd make even Shakespeare blush. If you enjoyed watching Miso navigate a literal bloodbath in heels, vote and comment! Your love fuels this chaos, and let's face it-where else can you find severed fingers, dark romances, and wedding dresses in one chapter? Stay tuned; it only gets messier from here.

Love,
Lavendermiso <333

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