Jungkook's Perspective -

I stirred awake, groaning lightly at the soft pull of the sunset against the blinds. Instinctively, my arm stretched out, moving over the cool sheets. Searching. Reaching.

Empty.

My eyes opened, slowly, just one at first. The spot beside me was vacant-only the crumpled blankets and her faint scent lingered. My brows furrowed. She never left the bed before me. Not unless something was wrong. Not unless she wanted to be away from me.

I sat up, the blanket sliding down my torso, pooling at my waist. A note sat on her pillow, neatly folded.

"Going to meet a friend. I'll be back by 8. Don't worry - love you."
- Y/N

A friend? She barely had any friends here. Not without my approval.

I placed the note back where it was, pressing my thumb into the paper until it crumpled beneath the pressure. Something didn't sit right in my chest. I glanced at the clock. She'd been gone for hours.

Just as I was about to get up, the door creaked open. Footsteps. Slow, hesitant. I turned.

There she was.

She stood at the doorway in a pair of fitted jeans and a black tank top. Her hair was slightly messy, face pale, but still-still she looked like a goddess who'd accidentally fallen into the mortal world. My eyes drank her in.

I smiled and got up, my feet padding over the marble floor as I moved to hug her. "Jagi," I whispered, arms open.

She flinched.

I stopped mid-step. My smile dropped.

"What happened?" I asked, voice low, calm-too calm for the volcano brewing beneath my chest.

"Nothing," she replied, brushing past me like I was a stranger.

My eyes narrowed. That wasn't her voice. That wasn't the girl who clung to me every night, who called me her safe place. That voice was foreign. Empty.

Her eyes-glass-like, rimmed with red. The khol smudged, like the aftermath of crying too hard for too long.

I caught her face in my hands gently, like porcelain. "Did you cry?" I asked softly, brushing the corner of her eye with my thumb.

She looked away and... removed my hand.

Removed my hand.

That was when the pit in my stomach dropped. My girl-mine-was hiding something.

She dropped her satchel on the side table and went into the bathroom without another word. The lock clicked.

I stood there, staring at the closed door like it had just slammed into my soul.

"Y/N," I knocked, voice firmer this time. "Open the door."

No response.

I clenched my jaw and stepped back, running a hand through my hair. Something was wrong. I could feel it. The walls of the room seemed to tighten around me.

My phone buzzed.

Aiden.

I opened the message, and my blood turned to ice.

Photos.

One after another.

Y/N standing next to Officer Min Yoongi. The same man who ruined my family name. The same man who betrayed me to the police and now played the hero. My own fucking half-brother.

My sweet wife, my innocent little dove, was talking to the enemy behind my back.

The screen dimmed, and I caught my reflection on the glass-eyes darker than night, jaw sharp enough to cut, and a smile stretching across my lips. But it wasn't happiness. It was rage. Cold, unshaken, calculated rage.

"So that's what we're doing now, huh?" I whispered to no one.

I turned to the window, placing one hand flat on the cool glass, the other still holding the phone. The light crept across my bare chest, highlighting the ink carved into my skin-scars and tattoos both. Symbols of a life no one could understand. Not even her.

You tried to uncover my past, Jagi?

You wanted to know who your husband really is?

Then let me show you.

A dark chuckle escaped my lips.

"I gave you everything, Y/N," I muttered under my breath. "You wanted space? I gave you a palace. You wanted love? I gave you obsession. You wanted safety? I destroyed kingdoms for you."

My fingers curled into a fist. I could still smell her shampoo in the air.

"But now... now you doubt me?"

I turned sharply, walking toward the bathroom door. My voice turned low, threatening, laced with that quiet venom only I could offer.

"Do you know what happens, Jagi, when someone crosses a mafia king?"

Silence.

"Do you know what happens," I continued, "when my own wife-my fucking queen-decides to play detective behind my back?"

The doorknob twitched but didn't turn.

"You looked into things I buried, love. Things I erased. Things I killed to protect you from."

I leaned my forehead against the door, my breath fogging the polished wood. "You should have come to me. You know you could've asked."

The lock clicked, and she opened the door, slowly. Her eyes wide, tears already at the edge again.

"I didn't-"

"I know what you did."

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. My hand lifted slowly to her face, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I forgive you," I whispered.

She blinked.

"But if you ever lie to me again, angel," I smiled coldly, cupping her jaw with a deadly softness, "I'll break you so gently, you'll thank me for it."

Her body shivered.

I leaned down, lips brushing her ear, "You're mine. And nothing-not even the truth-can take you away from me."

Her palm pressed to my chest, trying to push me away. Weakly. Hesitantly.

But I didn't move.

I caught her wrist mid-motion, not tightly-just enough to hold her in place. Just enough to make her look at me.

I leaned in slowly, foreheads touching, breath mingling between us. I could feel her hesitation-like a wire pulled taut, ready to snap. Her lips trembled, eyes lowered. Silent.

"Say something," I demanded, voice a low murmur, the kind of whisper you only use when the fury beneath the skin is begging to erupt.

My fingers lifted her chin, coaxing her to face me. But just as I met her gaze-

Crack!

Pain shot through my left shoulder like lightning splitting bone. I flinched. Blood started seeping fast, hot and wet against my skin.

I looked down.

Red.

A bullet.

Inside my own fucking mansion.

I didn't panic. I didn't scream.

Instead, I stared at the cracked window and then at her-her eyes wide in terror, her lips trembling as she stared at the blood dripping from me.

I shoved her backward gently-more protective than violent-into the bathroom and slammed the door shut, locking it from the outside.

My shoulder ached, but I didn't make a sound. The silence inside me was louder than any scream.

I pressed my hand to the wound, staggering slightly as I walked toward the shattered glass. "So they think they can get me here," I muttered, voice soaked in venom.

The guards would've already started scanning the estate. I trusted Aiden and Jae to be smarter than that-to shoot back without needing orders.

I opened the bathroom door again.

She stood there, eyes searching me like she was watching me die in slow motion. Her breath hitched, her body frozen in place.

The moment she saw me, really saw me-her eyes widened in horror.

Then she did something I didn't expect.

She reached for her phone.

Probably to call the cops. Or an ambulance. Or-fuck knows-maybe Officer Yoongi again. My own brother.

I didn't give her the chance.

I snatched the phone from her trembling fingers and slammed it on the floor with a sickening crack, then grabbed her arms and pinned her against the wall.

"Are you fine, Y/N?" I hissed, towering over her, every muscle tight, blood still dripping down my side.

She blinked rapidly. Her voice cracked. "You... You're bleeding, Jungkook."

"Yes, I'm bleeding," I growled, leaning close, brushing my nose against hers. My breath hit her lips. "I bleed too, angel. You forget that?"

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "I-I didn't know... I didn't mean-"

I let out a bitter chuckle. "You didn't mean to spy on me? Didn't mean to dig into things I killed people to bury? Or you didn't mean to meet Yoongi behind my back?"

Her mouth parted, but the sound was lost when the door burst open. Guards. Guns. Chaos. The room flooded with doctors.

They pulled me away from her. I didn't resist. I just stared at her while the doctors worked, while the pain got numb, while the bleeding was stopped.

She sat in the corner, shaking. Silent.

And even though it was my blood soaking the floor, I was more interested in the look on her face than the pain in my shoulder.

She was terrified.

Not of the shooter.

Of me.

Later, after the doctors had cleaned the blood, stitched me, wrapped me like some porcelain doll-

She laid on the bed beside me.

Back to me. Eyes closed. Mouth shut. Like I didn't exist.

Like she didn't just watch me bleed. Like she didn't care.

I turned toward her, ignoring the dull throb in my arm. My eyes stayed fixed on the back of her head.

"You didn't even ask if I'm okay," I whispered into the darkness. "You didn't even say sorry."

No reply.

My fingers twitched beside hers. "You know I would've taken the bullet for you, right? I'd die for you, Y/N. And yet... you can't even lie in my arms when I'm bleeding?"

Still, nothing.

"You think I'm a monster?" I laughed softly. "You think I don't know what you've been doing? Yoongi told you something, didn't he? Something to twist your mind."

Her shoulders shifted slightly.

Ah.

There it was.

"He told you about my past? The blood on my hands? The people I've buried?"

I leaned closer, my lips barely an inch from her neck now. "Let me ask you one thing, my love... if I hadn't killed them, do you think I would've survived long enough to meet you?"

She turned slowly, her eyes glassy in the dim light. "You scare me, Jungkook..."

My chest stung-and not just from the bullet.

I traced a finger down her cheek. "Good. You should be scared. Because if you walk away from me again, I'll burn down every city you hide in just to drag you back into my arms."

A tear rolled down her cheek. I wiped it with my thumb.

"Sleep now," I whispered, brushing my lips to her temple. "You're not going anywhere. Not after today."

And with that, I laid back.

One arm behind my head. The other on the loaded gun under the pillow.

My angel was beside me. Shattered. Shaken.

And finally mine again.

At least for tonight.

A/n Note —

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Don't forget to comment. It means a lot to me.

Love from kookie 💋

To be continue —