Hana had suffered from sleep paralysis on a few occasions since adolescence. 

In nearly every single one of her night terrors, she would be running. Running, running, running. Unable to stop, and drag herself out from her slumber.

As her bottom lip silently quivered and flames burned into her wide eyes, she felt a similar sensation.

She was stuck, transfixed, as the unwelcome presence in the room walked closer to her. Her legs wouldn't move from underneath her body. She just needed to wake up. If she woke up, then this would all be over.

With each slow step, his proximity got more terrifying. She could smell his war crimes on him; gasoline and lighter fluid. It scorched the inside of her nose like a fresh hit of coke, just without any of the high.

She only got a tangible sense of just how close he was when she felt the fresh metallic barrel of a gun against the crown of her head. It was nestled exactly where Jungkook liked to lazily press his tender, gracious lips.

Like Jungkook, Taehyung applied firm pressure letting her know that his movements were done with intent.

After what felt like a lifetime, Hana's trembling fingers lifted from her lap to the side of her head, to show that she wasn't concealing any weapons. She purposely didn't keep arms in her office.

The switchblade was an exception, but it was an artefact; a reminder—a warning.

"I wouldn't call this a fair fight," she tried her best to not let her tongue tremble, keeping her sentences succinct.

"I wouldn't call this a fight, Hana," Taehyung drawled, almost sounding charming. She wondered what it was about these Hae Pa boys and how they could manipulate even the most threatening words into something palatable. "I've already won. I'm just taking victory laps."

"The only thing worse than a sore loser is gloating winner."

His hand was steady, finger over the safety. His grip had gotten stronger over the last year. He didn't tremble anymore, not even when he crouched. His knees cracked either side of Hana, and she was suddenly very aware of the closeness of his lips to her ear. She could feel his bated breaths on her cheek, burning her skin.

"Nobody remembers how graceful losers are, princess. They don't even remember their names," his breath was like brandy, warm and drowsy. His angular jaw hung taut, lips curling at the side, knowing that everyone would remember his name. He was Kim fucking Taehyung.

"What is it you go by now?" Hana's voice sounded more raucous than it felt, braver. "The Breeder?"

She felt the pressure of the barrel ease up slightly as Taehyung got to his feet. The icy metal was replaced by his razor-sharp, unkempt nails clawing into her scalp, bringing her to her feet, before he chucked her body down into the chair opposite her desk.

Like a car crash, she couldn't take her eyes off him.

He had aged in the last year, small scars marbling his skin, exposing the damage he had ensued on account of being a fucking tornado. He ripped through people's lives, tearing them from the things and the people they loved, leaving them with no choice but to follow him in the hopes of finding stability. He was a pariah.

"Where are all of your men, Taehyung?" She snarled when he didn't answer her question and instead drove the muzzle in between her eyes.

The truth of the matter is that they were on the mainland searching high and low for Jungkook, but Taehyung didn't care for monetary rewards anymore. He was doing this shit for free. The satisfaction of stealing Hana from Jungkook was worth more than any reward Saffy could give him - although he wouldn't have said no to a promotion and a seat at the table with the big boys.

Hana didn't give him time to respond, instead preferring to fight her war with words. "All that breeding and yet still no family."

"Don't you fuckin' dare mention my family," Taehyung spat. The wounds of what Dal Pa had driven his father to do were still raw. Like Jungkook's shoulder, he had never stitched them up, and he let the bitterness ravish him.

"Han, don't."

Jungkook's voice bellowed from the doorway, knowing that she was saying all the right things to make Taehyung explode - and once he did, her skull would become collateral.

"Didn't Jin ever tell you not to play with your food, Taehyung?"

She hadn't dared to take her eyes off Taehyung, but the pull of Jungkook's voice was too much.

He had come to a halt just inside the office, his posture that of someone mid-sprint. Still clad in mid-wash denim jeans and the billowing grey t-shirt that he had chosen to wear for their sailing date, he looked out of place - especially compared to Taehyung's impeccably suited frame.

It was clear as day that Hoseok had been right when he had told Saffy that Jungkook wasn't Hae Pa. He was just a kid—Twenty-two, with both nothing and everything to lose.

Jungkook's eyelids were slick with oil, beads of sweat dappling the tanned skin on his forehead. The lovers had both caught the sun that afternoon, but Jungkook's body had chosen to act an insulator. He had been getting hotter for days now, but he was beginning to reach temperatures that rivalled the flames over on Ulleungdo.

The parasitic sickness that was taking hold of him had been eating away at his muscle, and he was definitely skinnier than he was when Taehyung had last seen him. Gaunt, but obviously powerful, his shoulders were still broad, jaw still strong and unblinking black eyes still capable of conveying words his mouth wouldn't.

You're okay, love. I've got you.

His chest was heaving due to his desperate sprint from the boat to the house. His phone was still lit up in his hand, Hana's caller ID showing in the pixels, transmitting the audio from the office.

"Maybe," Taehyung's grin snarled across his face, pleased that Jungkook would be here to see this. "But he also told me to stay away from guns, and that was a big fuckin' mistake."

Jungkook knew there was no pleading with Taehyung. The menacing look on his face from the night of the gala mirrored the exact haunting smile he was sporting now. "You're being fucking stupid."

Like deja-vu, he even began to laugh like he had done in the ballroom. All that was missing was a freshly broken nose and blood coating his chin.

"Doing stupid shit was your speciality, remember?"

Releasing the magazine of his gun with a swift movement that was almost invisible to the naked eye, Taehyung began to pour the live ammunition on the ground. They clattered against the wooden boards, like a box of spilt nails or a broken piggy jar - except the bullets would never build anything or be used for any good. They were designed to destroy.

Letting them cascade to the floor until there was just one left, he snapped the magazine back into place with an almighty click.

"Who's it gonna be, Kookie? You or the bitch?"