I stayed in the study long after my mother left, her warnings echoing in my mind, drowning out every thought except the relentless question: What do I do now?

I had been so certain before, so determined to escape. Yoongi's plan had felt like my last hope, a fragile thread I was willing to risk everything for. But now, with every word my mother had spoken, that thread was fraying. I didn't doubt Yoongi's loyalty or his ability to protect me, but was even he a match for someone like Taehyung?

I forced myself to stand, my legs feeling weak as I made my way back to my room. Every step felt heavier than the last, like I was walking deeper into quicksand. The walls of this mansion felt like a prison now, one I couldn't escape no matter how desperately I wanted to.

As I reached my room, I was startled to find Yoongi waiting for me by the door. His expression was unreadable, as always, but there was something in his eyes-something that made my heart sink. He stepped forward, his voice low and measured.

"I heard Taehyung arrived," he said, his tone casual but his eyes sharp, assessing. "I take it you met him?"

I nodded, struggling to keep my emotions in check. "Yes," I managed, my voice sounding far more composed than I felt. "He arrived just after the fitting."

Yoongi's gaze hardened slightly. "And? How did it go?"

I hesitated, unsure of how to put the encounter into words. How could I describe the way Taehyung's eyes had looked right through me, cold and calculating? The way his presence had felt like a storm barely contained, an unspoken threat lingering in every glance?

"He... didn't say much," I finally replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I could feel it. He's... dangerous."

Yoongi's jaw tightened, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of something-anger, maybe, or perhaps frustration. "That's why we need to get you out of here," he said firmly. "I've already started making arrangements. Tomorrow, we leave."

The determination in his voice reignited a spark of hope in my chest, but it was quickly doused by the memory of my mother's warning. I bit my lip, my mind racing with doubt and fear.

After a long pause, I looked up at him. "Yoongi... after seeing him, after what my mother said... I can't risk your life." My voice wavered as I continued, "Please, drop this idea. I don't want to lose you, too."

Yoongi's eyes flashed with frustration, but he softened when he saw the desperation in my expression. "And do what? Just let you go to him? Let you live that life? Hell no, Miso. I can't just stand by and watch that happen."

I took his hand, gripping it tightly, my gaze pleading. "For me, Yoongi. Please."

His jaw clenched, and I could see the battle raging within him. Finally, he let out a sigh, nodding reluctantly. "Fine," he muttered. "But hear this-if I sense you're not okay, we're running away the very next day. No arguments, no second thoughts."

I nodded, the weight of his words settling over me. "Alright."

Yoongi gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, then released it. "Just know, Miso... I'll always be here, watching over you."

He turned and walked away, leaving me to face the emptiness of my room and the silence that seemed to press in from all sides. My mind churned with a whirlwind of emotions-fear, confusion, and the unbearable ache of uncertainty. I knew that, for tonight, there would be no sleep.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow would be a step closer to a life I never wanted, and further away from the life I could have had. The fear gripped my heart, but I held onto Yoongi's promise, hoping it would be enough.

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The dining room was heavy with tension as I walked in, my spine straight and expression composed, a mask carefully crafted to conceal the turmoil roiling inside. The long mahogany table gleamed under the chandelier's light, set meticulously with polished silverware, delicate crystal glasses, and fine china. My father's insistence on perfection, even in these small details, was evident, as if the facade of opulence could smooth over the chaos brewing within our family.

As I took my seat, I could feel Taehyung's eyes on me, intense and unyielding, like a hawk circling its prey. His gaze was dark, assessing, his presence exuding an unspoken threat that made my skin prickle. He didn't say a word, but his silence spoke volumes. It reminded me that in this twisted game of power, I was the piece being moved.

To my left sat Beomgyu, Taehyung's cousin, with an easy, mischievous grin that seemed out of place in the stifling formality of this dinner. His suit was impeccably tailored, yet he wore it with a casual arrogance, as if he belonged more at a lively bar than at this tense family gathering. His gaze roamed the room before landing on me, and a spark of amusement flickered in his eyes.

He leaned over, his lips dangerously close to my ear, and whispered, "You look absolutely ravishing tonight, Miso." His voice held a teasing lilt, one that was designed to provoke a reaction-and judging by Taehyung's tightening grip on his glass, it was working.

I forced a polite smile, keeping my eyes forward as I muttered, "Thank you."

Before I could fully react, Beomgyu leaned closer, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek. "Dinner looks great," he murmured, letting his gaze sweep over me, "and so do you."

The warmth of his lips lingered on my skin, but I felt nothing beyond the prickling awareness of Taehyung's gaze sharpening, his jaw clenching almost imperceptibly. I didn't dare look at him, but I could feel the possessive energy radiating from him like a storm ready to break.

"Knock it off, Beomgyu," Taehyung's voice was calm, cold, each word clipped with restrained irritation.

Beomgyu chuckled, unfazed, and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest with an amused smile. "Relax, cousin. I'm just being friendly."

The tension in the room thickened as my father entered, Taehyung's father following closely behind. The older man's presence was even more oppressive than Taehyung's. He wore power like a second skin, his sharp eyes sweeping over the table before settling on me, lingering a moment too long. His expression was unreadable, but there was a subtle smirk playing on his lips, as if he knew something no one else did.

My father took his seat at the head of the table, clearing his throat and gesturing for everyone to sit. As we settled in, polite conversation began to fill the air, though every word felt like a careful dance, a series of calculated moves to avoid stepping on anyone's toes. I felt trapped between the scrutinizing stares, like a pawn in a game where the rules were constantly shifting.

Taehyung's father, the Capo dei Capi, raised his glass, his voice smooth but laced with an edge that made my skin crawl. "To family and loyalty," he said, his gaze settling on me, dark and knowing. "Without it, everything crumbles."

I swallowed, feeling the weight of his words. It was a reminder, a veiled threat. In this world, loyalty was everything. And any deviation-any betrayal-was met with consequences. His gaze lingered, unblinking, as if he could see through every layer I'd carefully constructed to protect myself.

Taehyung's eyes hadn't left me, cold and possessive. He didn't speak, didn't even touch his food. He simply watched, as if waiting for me to slip, to reveal something I didn't mean to. The silence between us was louder than any words, a taut string that could snap at any moment.

Beomgyu, sensing the tension, smirked and leaned closer to me again, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do you always look this stunning, or is it just for me?"

My cheeks flushed despite myself, not from any real feeling for Beomgyu but from the intensity of Taehyung's silent stare. I knew he was watching every movement, every breath, his jaw tightening each time Beomgyu's gaze lingered a little too long.

"Beomgyu," Taehyung's father Kim Do-hwan, interrupted, his voice carrying a hint of warning, "perhaps it's time to leave Miso to her meal."

Beomgyu chuckled, lifting his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine," he drawled, casting a wink in my direction. "I'll behave."

The rest of the meal was a quiet war of unspoken words. Every glance, every shift of posture, was charged with meaning. Taehyung's father occasionally directed pointed comments my way, comments that seemed innocuous but held a weight only I could feel. It was as if he knew of my doubts, my fears, and wanted to remind me that there was no escape, that any attempt to leave this life would be seen as the ultimate betrayal.

"Trust is a delicate thing," he said at one point, looking at me over the rim of his glass. "One small misstep, and it shatters."

I forced a small smile, my hands trembling slightly as I picked up my glass. "Yes, Mr.Kim," I murmured, hoping my voice didn't betray the fear gnawing at my insides.

Taehyung's gaze never wavered. He was like a predator, patiently watching, waiting, letting me know through his silence that he saw everything, understood every nuance of this twisted dynamic. His eyes held a silent promise, one that made my stomach twist with dread.

After what felt like an eternity, the meal ended, and Taehyung's father and mine excused themselves, leaving us younger ones at the table. Beomgyu stretched casually, throwing me a charming grin. "Well, that was entertaining," he murmured, his tone filled with amusement.

Taehyung didn't respond, his gaze still fixed on me, intense and unreadable. He finally spoke, his voice a low murmur that only I could hear. "Remember, Miso... in this world, trust is everything. And trust... is fragile."

He didn't wait for a response. Standing, he adjusted his suit and cast one final, lingering look my way before leaving the room. The silence he left behind was suffocating, and I felt as if a weight had been lifted but replaced with something colder, something far more unsettling.

Beomgyu watched him leave, raising an eyebrow as he looked back at me. "Well, cousin certainly has a way with words, doesn't he?" His tone was mocking, but beneath the teasing, I saw a flicker of seriousness. "Be careful with him, Miso. Taehyung isn't one to be crossed lightly."

With that, he too left, leaving me alone at the table, my mind a chaotic mess of emotions and fears. Taehyung's father's warning, Taehyung's possessive gaze, and Beomgyu's playful but ominous words-all combined into a dark, twisted reminder of the trap closing in around me.

As I sat there, my heart pounding, I realized with a sinking feeling that any hope of escape was fading. And I was beginning to wonder if I'd ever be able to break free from this life without losing everything-including myself.

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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

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