Miso sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the floor, her mind swirling with thoughts she couldn’t quite pin down. Across from her, Mo-eum was perched on a chair, her feet tucked under her, a curious expression on her face.

“Miso,” Mo-eum said, breaking the silence, “we don’t know anything about Kim Taehyung. Maybe we should look him up?”

Miso’s head snapped up. “What good will that do?”

Mo-eum shrugged, already pulling out her phone. “At least we’ll know something. I mean, we’re supposed to trust him, right?”

Miso scoffed but said nothing as Mo-eum started scrolling through various articles and pictures. “Look,” Mo-eum said, turning the screen towards Miso. “All these pictures are of him with different girls. Every one of these is from some fancy business party.”

Miso glanced at the photos—Taehyung in a sharp suit, a cold smirk on his lips, a different woman hanging off his arm in every shot. He looked polished, untouchable, and completely uninterested in anything beyond the moment. The girls, on the other hand, clung to him like he was some prized possession.

Mo-eum wrinkled her nose. “He’s a playboy.”

Miso felt her jaw tighten. She’d suspected as much, but seeing it laid out so plainly made it worse. She took the phone from Mo-eum’s hand and scrolled down the search results. Every link was the same—a new woman, a new headline, all screaming of parties, deals, and late-night rendezvous.

Mo-eum let out an exasperated sigh. “There’s nothing more to know from this. How are we supposed to figure out what he’s really like?”

Miso didn’t respond right away, her thoughts darkening as she absorbed the images before her. The superficial glamour, the way Taehyung seemed to blend into the elite world of luxury and excess—none of it told her what kind of man he really was beneath the surface. But she knew there was more.

Suddenly, she stood up, her body tense with purpose.

“I know,” Miso said quietly, her voice steady but firm. Mo-eum blinked up at her, confused.

“Where?” Mo-eum asked, her tone filled with surprise.

Miso didn’t answer. Without another word, she walked out of the room, leaving Mo-eum wondering just how much more there was to learn about the man she was set to marry.

________________________

“He killed his first man when he was thirteen,” Yoongi said, as he cleaned his gun with slow, methodical precision. The metallic scent of the gun oil mingled with the faint whiff of whiskey on his breath, and the coolness in his voice sent a chill through the room. Miso glanced at him, trying not to show her unease.

“At thirteen?” Her voice wavered slightly, though she tried to keep it steady. Most weren’t even initiated until they were sixteen. “Was it because of his father?”

Yoongi’s lips curled into a smirk, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You think being the son of the Capo dei Capi made things easier for him? No, Miso. Taehyung earned his place. He killed for it.”

A cold dread slid down Miso’s spine, her hands clenching unconsciously at her sides. “He’s... ruthless.”

Yoongi shrugged, his movements deliberate and unhurried, as if discussing the weather. “He’s what he has to be. You don’t survive the Cosa Nostra without being able to pull the trigger. That’s how he’s risen so fast. Loyalty and fear. But fear? Fear works better.”

Miso swallowed, her throat dry. “What happened after?” She wasn’t sure she wanted the answer, but the question lingered in the air, heavy with dread. If Taehyung had killed at thirteen, how much more blood had been shed since?

Yoongi paused, the rag in his hand stilling as he looked up at her. His face softened slightly, but his words were edged with steel. “More men, more power. He’s more dangerous now. Don’t let the charm fool you, Miso. Taehyung doesn’t hesitate.”

Her gaze shifted to the window, the darkness outside offering no comfort, only deepening her anxiety. “He’ll protect me, though... won’t he?” Her voice sounded small, uncertain.

Yoongi’s eyes darkened, the weight of his gaze settling on her like a heavy burden. “He’ll protect you, sure. But who will protect you from him, Miso?” His voice was low, filled with a warning she couldn’t ignore.

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with the unspoken truth. In their world, protection came with a cost, and Miso knew all too well what that meant—especially with a man like Kim Taehyung.

________________________

Miso sat at the dining table, arms crossed and a frown firmly planted on her face. The late morning sun streamed through the windows, casting a soft glow across the room, but it did nothing to brighten her mood. Across from her, her mother, Georgia, was flipping through a glossy bridal magazine, talking incessantly.

“You need to start thinking about your wardrobe, Miso. You can’t just dress the way you always do once you’re married,” Georgia said, glancing up at her daughter with an exasperated look. “A mafia wife must always look presentable. Chic. Sophisticated.”

Miso rolled her eyes, slumping back in her chair. “Mom, I’m not suddenly going to start wearing pearls and silk gowns just because I’m getting married. It’s not me.”

Georgia ignored her complaint, continuing her lecture. “You’ll also need to learn how to cook. I know you think that’s beneath you, but Taehyung is going to expect a proper meal from time to time. And believe me, the last thing you want is to make a bad impression on him, or worse, his father.”

“I highly doubt Kim Taehyung cares if I know how to make lasagna,” Miso muttered, her grumpiness clear in every word.

Georgia tsked, shaking her head. “This is exactly the attitude I’m talking about. You need to take this seriously, Miso. Being a mafia wife isn’t just about sitting pretty. You’ll have responsibilities. You’ll be expected to host dinners, manage the household, and make sure everything is perfect.”

Miso’s frown deepened. “So basically, I’m a glorified servant?”

Georgia’s gaze sharpened. “No, you’re the wife of a powerful man. That comes with influence, with respect. But respect has to be earned. You can’t just act like a spoiled girl and expect people to follow.”

Miso rubbed her temples, trying to keep her frustration in check. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“I know,” her mother sighed, her tone softening for the first time. “But this is the life you were born into. You have to make the best of it. You’re not a little girl anymore, Miso. This marriage... it’s not just about you. It’s about the family.”

Miso stared at the table, her jaw tight, fighting the urge to snap back. The weight of expectation pressed down on her, suffocating her rebellious spirit. She didn’t want to think about her wedding, about Taehyung, or about becoming someone’s obedient wife. But every day, it seemed like her mother was hammering it into her, molding her into something she didn’t want to be.

Georgia stood up, walking over to Miso and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Just... think about it. You’ll have to grow into this role sooner or later. Better to be prepared.”

Miso sighed deeply, her mind already wandering back to the many ways she wished she could avoid this marriage altogether. But with every passing day, the inevitable loomed closer, and no matter how much she grumbled about it, she knew there was no escaping it.

________________________

Miso sat by the lake behind her family’s mansion, her knees drawn up to her chest as she stared at the still water. The setting sun reflected off the surface, casting a warm orange glow, but all Miso felt was cold. She hugged her legs tighter, her thoughts spinning like a storm in her mind.

She used to dream about her wedding, the way every girl did. She’d imagined walking down the aisle in a flowing white gown, her father smiling proudly beside her, while the man she loved waited at the altar. She used to picture Yoongi, back when she was thirteen and too naïve to understand how the world really worked. He was strong, protective, and he cared about her. There was a time she even thought she might marry him, thought that maybe, just maybe, they could have a life outside of the violence that surrounded their family.

But that was a foolish girl’s dream, and now it felt like nothing more than a cruel joke. Instead of love, she was being handed over like a piece in a business deal, her future tied to a man she barely knew, a man with a reputation darker than the shadows he lurked in.

Her heart ached at the thought. Everything she had once hoped for felt so far away, shattered beyond repair. She was going to be Kim Taehyung’s wife, not because she wanted to, but because she had no choice.

Footsteps crunched on the gravel behind her, and she didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Yoongi always had a way of finding her when she was at her lowest, like a silent guardian. He came to her side and sat down, close but not touching, his presence both comforting and heavy with unspoken tension.

“Why’s our princess so deep in thought?” Yoongi’s voice was low, his words carrying a hint of the playful tone he used when he wanted to cheer her up. But there was an edge to it this time, something darker beneath the surface.

Miso didn’t answer, just kept her gaze on the water. She couldn’t bring herself to say what was really weighing on her heart.

Yoongi shifted beside her, his gaze hard on her face. “You’re thinking about him, aren’t you? About Taehyung.”

Miso clenched her jaw, biting back the urge to snap. Of course she was. How could she not be?

“I can’t get away from it,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “It’s everywhere. I can’t stop thinking about how... everything is ruined.”

Yoongi leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing. “It’s not too late, Miso. You don’t have to go through with it.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand. My father—”

“Your father would understand,” Yoongi cut her off, his tone sharp. “If he really cared about you, he wouldn’t force this on you. He’s using you, Miso. You’re a pawn in his game. And Taehyung... he’s worse. You know the things he’s done.”

Miso looked at Yoongi, her heart heavy with confusion and fear. “What do you mean?”

Yoongi’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening as he began to list off the things he had heard, the things he knew. “He’s ruthless, Miso. Taehyung killed his first man when he was just a boy. He’s beaten men half to death just for looking at him the wrong way. He controls people with fear, manipulates them, uses them like they’re disposable. And he won’t hesitate to do the same to you.”

Miso felt a shiver run down her spine. She had heard rumors, of course, but hearing them from Yoongi made them feel all the more real, all the more terrifying.

“You can’t live with someone like that,” Yoongi continued, his voice growing more intense. “He’ll crush you, Miso. He’ll turn you into something you’re not, someone you don’t want to be. You can’t survive in that world, not with him.”

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but Miso fought them back, her mind racing. “What am I supposed to do? I don’t have a choice.”

Yoongi’s expression softened for a moment, his voice lowering. “Yes, you do. You can leave. Run away, Miso. I’ll help you. We’ll disappear, and no one will find us.”

Miso looked at him, shocked. “Run away? How?”

Yoongi leaned closer, his voice urgent. “There are ways. I know people. We could leave tonight, go somewhere far away. You wouldn’t have to marry him. You wouldn’t have to live this life.”

Miso’s heart pounded in her chest, her mind spinning with the possibilities. Could she really do it? Could she leave everything behind—her family, her life here, everything she’d ever known—and escape this fate? The thought tempted her, offering a sliver of hope amidst the darkness.

But it also terrified her. Could she really outrun the Cosa Nostra? Could she escape Taehyung, her father, all the ties that bound her to this life?

“I... I don’t know, Yoongi,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “What if they find us? What if it doesn’t work?”

Yoongi’s eyes locked onto hers, fierce and determined. “I won’t let them touch you, Miso. Not as long as I’m breathing.”

Miso wanted to believe him, wanted to trust that he could protect her from the nightmare she was facing. But deep down, she knew that no matter how far they ran, the shadows of her past—and Taehyung—would always be lurking behind them.

Still, for the first time, she considered the possibility. Running away. Escaping the life she had never wanted.

It was a dangerous thought. But maybe, just maybe, it was her only way out.

________________________

Dear Readers,

THANK YOU for picking up BENEATH HIS DESIRE. I hope you love and enjoy it as much as I did while writing it.

Don't be a silent reader, if you enjoy it please do like and comment.

Love,
lavendermiso <333