Y/N'S POV

A deafening bang pierces the air, and before I can even comprehend it, my own scream is swallowed by the guttural cry of another.

Seung-cheol 's.

My heart pounds in my chest as my eyes desperately scan the room. In an instant, I realize what’s unfolding before me—Jungkook has burst through the door, and Seung-cheol  lies on the floor beneath him, his body pinned by Jungkook’s chokehold.

I can see the fury bubbling in Jungkook’s veins, his anger so palpable that it seems to pulse from his neck in violent waves. His voice booms, commanding the guards behind him to round up the guests, to search their rooms for accomplices. The room spins, and I feel as if I am suspended in time, my body frozen, unable to fully process what’s happening.

Seung-cheol ’s eyes flutter closed, his chest heaving, each breath growing slower. Panic rises in my chest like a tidal wave, but I push it aside, focusing instead on the immediate urgency. He’s fading. I rush forward, shoving Jungkook off of Seung-cheol ’s body with a surge of adrenaline.

Jungkook’s furious gaze snaps toward me, his eyes seething with rage, but I don’t flinch. My first instinct is to check on Seung-cheol . I place two fingers on his neck, praying for some sign of life. A small but steady pulse beneath my fingertips sends a rush of relief through me—he’s alive, but barely.

I tear my gaze away from him, only to meet Jungkook’s glare. He doesn’t speak at first, his fury radiating off him like a storm ready to break. Then, with a harsh tug, he pulls me up by my arm, forcing me to face him.

“Why the hell did you save him?!” His voice is like a whip, cracking across my senses, making my eyes squint from the force of his words. “He was going to kill you, and you still save him from death?!”

His grip tightens on my arm as he shakes me, and for a moment, I feel the crushing weight of his fury. But I stay calm, knowing that his anger isn’t entirely his own—it's a reflection of his disorder, the irrational thoughts that sometimes cloud his mind. I wait for him to stop shouting, allowing the chaos to fade enough for me to speak.

“Seung-cheol  was forced to do this,” I say, my voice firm but gentle, hoping my words will reach him. “When he held the gun, he was trembling, terrified. If someone truly wanted me dead, they wouldn’t hesitate. But Seung-cheol —he didn’t want this. He said he had to. Someone made him do it.”

I watch his expression shift, the wild anger in his eyes beginning to ebb as he processes my words. He releases my arm, but his eyes are still hard, as if he’s running through the evidence in his mind.

"It makes sense," he mutters, his voice quieter now, and I offer him a small, weary smile in response. The weight of everything hangs heavy between us, but for a fleeting moment, I see the regret in his eyes, and it cuts deeper than any of his harsh words could.

"I'm sorry, Angel," he says softly, and in that moment, I feel the sincerity in his voice. He takes my hand in his, pressing kisses to my fingers, each one tender, each one an apology that he doesn't need to voice aloud.

I let out a soft, weary laugh, the tension in my body finally easing. As I look past him, I motion for a worker to take Seung-cheol —still unconscious and vulnerable—to the hospital section of the mansion. The worker glances at Jungkook for approval, nods, and carefully drags the limp body away.

When I move to leave the room, Jungkook’s grip tightens on my hand again, and I can tell he’s not ready to let go. His eyes flicker nervously, constantly watching me, as if afraid I might slip from his grasp. We pass the guests who are being ushered out, and I catch a glimpse of Sienna. But before I can catch her attention, I notice the sharp scowl on her face, her hand gripping a wine glass with such intensity it looks as though she might crush it.

Jungkook leads me to our room, his hand never leaving mine, as though grounding himself through the connection. He gently lays me down on the bed, but when I shift over to make space for him to join me, he chuckles softly.

“Sorry, love,” he murmurs, his voice quiet but sincere, “but I need to deal with what just happened.” I nod, understanding without a word as he walks out of the room.

The moment the door clicks shut behind him, I close my eyes, the exhaustion of the night weighing heavily on me. It’s only then that I allow myself to succumb to the pull of sleep, the quiet comfort of the room wrapping around me like a blanket.

And as I drift into slumber, I wonder, if just for a moment, what tomorrow will bring.

Jungkook led me away, to our room and laid me on our bed. I moved over for him to lie down next to me but that only made him chuckle quietly. "Sorry love, but I need to deal with what just happened," he explained, sounding sincere and I nod as he walks out of the room.

And as soon as I close my eye, I drift into sleep.

JUNGKOOK'S POV

The moment I leave Y/N, the weight of my anger crashes over me like a tidal wave.

I can feel my fists clenching, cracking against each other as I try to suppress the fury that rages within me. My wings unfurl instinctively, a primal reaction to the threat that looms in my mind. How dare anyone try to harm her especially on a night that should have been hers, a night meant to celebrate her, not the chaos that bastard brought with a gun pressed to her head.

I arrive at the basement elevator and dismiss the guards standing watch beside it. The anticipation gnaws at me as I step inside. The doors close with a soft hum, and the elevator descends. The further it sinks, the more I hear the screams-distant, agonizing wails of those who thought they could cross me once. Some are new, some old, but they all share one thing in common: they remain locked away in these cold cells, trapped by their own choices.

The doors slide open, and I storm down the hallway. As my boots hit the concrete floor, the eerie silence settled over the inmates. Their labored breaths and muffled cries echo off the stone walls, their pain tangible. My workers, standing guard near their victims, bow their heads in respect as I pass, their eyes lowering in deference to the power that I command.

In deference to the power that I command.

As I approach the end of the hallway, I sense movement. One of the prisoners dares to lunge at me, but I don't even spate him a glance. My only focus is the man who dared harm what's mine, the man who needs to answer for it.

I slide open the door at the end of the hall and am met with a stench so thick it nearly chokes me. The smell of blood is overwhelming, but it only serves to fuel the fire inside me. And there he is, tied to the wall, his body a testament to the brutality he deserves. His clothes are stained crimson, his skin battered and bruised, his wrists and one knee grotesquely dislocated. The purple swelling marks every inch of him, and all I can think about is how badly I want to carve into his flesh.

Mingyu, my most trusted man, stands over the wretch with a twisted grin plastered on his face. He acknowledges me with a nod, and returns it with nothing but disgust. The man before me is nothing but a rat, and I make my way toward him, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking it upwards, forcing him to meet my gaze.

"Why did you do it, you little fuck?" I growl, my voice low and dripping with venom.

His eyes, filled with fury, stare back at me, but I can see the fear he's trying so desperately to mask. He knows exactly what he's done.

"I'm not telling you shit!" he spits, the defiance in his voice doing little to hide the trembling in his hands. He tries to spit at me, but it falls short, landing pathetically in his lap. His psychotic laugh fills the room, but I can't stand it. I uppercut him sharply in the chest, and the sound of his coughs is quickly drowned by the blood being spilled.

"I'll give you credit for the acting. Seung-cheol. I pause, the name rolling off my tongue with a strange, bitter amusement. "Seung-cheol."

I chuckle, a dark laugh that seems to echo off the cold stone walls. "Really, S-coups? "Seung-cheol? That was the best fucking name you could come up with?" I ask, the amusement quickly turning into derision as I see his blood-smeared teeth, the laughter dying in my throat. I pace around the room, not taking my eyes off

him. Finally, I sit down on the chair opposite him, my voice dripping with danger. calm. "You still owe me that twenty thousand for the heroine I gave you," I say, watching his every move as he remains silent. "Is this how you planned to pay me back?"

I've crossed paths with S-coups before. He worked as a hitman for me for a while until he proved himself untrustworthy, stealing from me-betraying me and I banished him from my gang. Now, here he is, tied to the wall, his fate sealed.

"But let's get back to the topic at hand, shall we?" I signal to Mingyu, who begins to unchain the wretched man. I know full well he won't be able to stand, let alone escape.

As expected, S-coups drop to the floor in a heap, groaning in pain. I yank him up by the collar, lifting him off the ground and pressing him against the wall, the fabric of his shirt digging into his lungs.

"Who hired you?" I ask, my voice is a low hiss.

"No, no one. I-i  did it myself," S-coups wheezes, gasping for air, but I can only scoff in response.

"Death is just a few seconds away, S-coups. Tell me, or I'll make it last longer." My words drip with venom, and I watch his eyes widen with panic. He knows I'll follow through.

His breath hitches, and he finally breaks, his words choked by his own blood. "That whore made me do it! She threatened me!" he spits,

his voice barely above a rasp as he trembles with fear. I drop him to the floor, disgust curling in my gut.

"Who?" I demand, but he's cut off by a violent coughing fit. Blood spills from his mouth, staining the floor beneath him. The room falls into a brief, deafening silence, before a quiet, oppressive stillness takes over.

I place my fout on his face, tilting it upward to meet my gaze. His eyes are glassy now, lifeless.

"We'll find out another way," I mutter under my breath, running a hand through my hair in irritation. This rat is of no use to me now.

Mingya steps forward, lifting the corpse with ease, but not before nudging me with a knowing smirk. "So, you and Ms. Lee, huh?" he teases, his thick Italian accent only adding to the mockery. I glared at him, but I nod, acknowledging the truth behind his words.

"I'm glad you did it, man. But just... don't screw it up." Mingyu says casually, though there's an underlying seriousness in his tone.

I stop dead in my tracks, my body tense. The words hang in the air, their meaning sinking in "What do you mean by that?" I ask, my voice sharp, a flicker of irritation sparking in my chest. Mingyu holds his hands up in a mock surrender,

but his eyes are serious. "You've seen the history of gang leaders and their Queens, Boss. They're faithful, sure, but after a few weeks... they always go off to fuck someone else” he says, the casualness in his voice a stark contrast to the weight of his words.

I don't reply as I part ways with Mingyu, his words echoing in my head, gnawing at me like a constant, insidious whisper.

Don't screw it up, don't screw it up.

My fists curl involuntarily at the thought of betraying her. I would never hurt her by accident, and certainly not by intent. The thought of causing her any pain fills me with a deep, suffocating rage. I would die before ever letting anyone harm her, and that includes myself.

My mind empties as I push the door open, my eyes immediately falling on her, lying peacefully in bed. She's still in her dress, and I know she must have been too exhausted to change out of it. A soft breeze whispers through the open balcony door, brushing across her face. I smile to myself, and gently close the glass door, not wanting her to catch a chill.

As I slip into bed beside her, her eyelashes flutter just slightly, a subtle acknowledgment that she knows I'm there. The moment she realizes it's me, her lips curve into a soft smile, and instinctively, I pull her closer. Resting my head against her stomach, I close my eyes, letting her fingers softly trail through my hair.

It's the most peaceful feeling I've ever known. To have her so close to me, to feel the warmth of her touch, something I never thought I'd have. But with her here, my mind can't help but spiral into fear. What if I mess it up? What if I lose her?

I lift my gaze to her, watching her serene expression. Her eyes are closed, her lips slightly parted, but the smile still lingers there, a quiet joy that makes my heart ache with tenderness. I furrow my brows, unsettled by the intensity of the moment.

I move, resting my head gently against her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her skin. "You know I would never hurt you intentionally... right?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, my heart racing with an unspoken worry.

Her fingers pause in my hair as she hums softly in response, and then she whispers, "Yeah, I know," her voice thick with sleep, as if she's too tired to say much more.

A smile pulls at the corners of my lips, and I lean forward, pressing soft kisses to her neck, savoring the feel of her warm, delicate skin against my lips. My kisses deepen, my mouth trailing over her, and I find myself gently sucking at the skin, leaving marks that will linger as a reminder of my presence.

Her breath catches in a quiet moan, and though she weakly tries to push me away, I comply, pulling back just enough to give her space.

Her eyes flutter open, though they remain soft, filled with that warm, endearing life that always draws me in. "What was that for?" she giggles quietly, her voice laced with a teasing innocence, and without a word, I turn her to face me, her back pressed to my chest.

"To serve as a reminder that you belong to me," I murmur, my voice low with a possessive edge.

She smiles sneakily, and before I can prepare myself, she pushes back against me, her hips rolling to grind against my pants. A low groan escapes my throat as I grab her hips, trying to control the way her movements send heat flooding through my veins. This minx-she knows exactly what she's doing.

Y/N laughs softly, tilting her head back to rest against my shoulder. "Don't you belong to me?" she whispers teasingly, and in response, I let my hands wander, slipping under the hem of her shirt.

"Jungkook," she tuts, a playful warning in her tone as she tries to swat my hands away. But I don't let her; instead, I spin her around in my arms, capturing her lips in a searing kiss before she can protest further.

The kiss intensifies almost immediately, her soft surrender only fueling the fire inside me. She tastes like heaven-like sugar and strawberries-and it's all I've craved since the first kiss we shared. She's become my addiction, and now I can't get enough. My hands move over her skin, every inch of her bare body igniting the heat building within me.

She moans into the kiss, and I feel her arms slip around my neck, pulling me closer, closer until I can't tell where I end and she begins. With a swift motion, I roll us over, pinning her beneath me, and finally, we pull apart, both of us gasping for air, our bodies still trembling with desire.

I can barely catch my breath, but I need to ask, I need to make sure she's as ready for this as I am. "Do you want this?" I murmur, my voice barely audible, hanging in the charged air between us.

Before I even finish the question, her answer comes, a soft, desperate plea that makes my heart race. "Yes," she breathes, her voice shaky, filled with longing. "Please, Jungkook."

That's all the permission I need. Without another word, I tear her nightdress off, my eyes drinking in the sight of her beautiful body, and a smile spreads across my face.

This is it. This is what I've wanted, what we both need.

–
The climax of the story will be approaching soon.