Namjoon's Hoe

[chokemenamjoonhard]

SCENT OF RUIN CHAPTERS

YN trapped between two mafia families discovers she is the key to a secret that could destroy them all—and the seven men who once wanted to break her become willing to burn the world to keep her.

Prologue

One (Teaser)

One

Two

Three

Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten

I usually update late cos I've been busy with work and all but will definitely update when I have time. Thank you for reading everyone! ✨️

[chokemenamjoonhard]

SCENT OF RUIN

Eight: Guard Duty

The third floor felt different now.

Not because it was quieter.

Not because it was cleaner.

But because it was sealed.

Two armed guards stood at the staircase entrance. Another pair stood halfway down the hallway. The windows were reinforced, the curtains drawn, and the air smelled faintly of metal—like guns had become part of the furniture.

You were led down the corridor like a prisoner being escorted to her cell.

Except your cell was beautiful.

That was the cruel part.

Namjoon walked ahead. Calm. Controlled. Like this was nothing more than another security protocol.

Jimin stayed close to your left, his hand lightly touching your elbow as if you might fall.

Jungkook stayed to your right, close enough that your sleeve brushed his. He didn’t touch you now, but his presence felt like a hand around your throat anyway.

Behind you, Jin and Taehyung followed, talking softly like this was an evening stroll.

Yoongi and Hoseok were somewhere behind, quieter.

You stopped when Namjoon opened a door at the end of the hall.

“This is it,” Namjoon said.

You stared inside.

A bedroom. Spacious. Clean. Warm lighting. A king-sized bed. A small sitting area. A desk. A balcony.

A luxury prison.

You stepped inside slowly.

Jimin’s hand fell away from your arm.

Jungkook stayed at the doorway.

Namjoon walked in after you, then turned and looked at everyone.

“This room is now restricted,” Namjoon said. “Only us. No staff.”

Jin whistled. “Wow. She’s officially a treasure.”

Taehyung smiled. “Or a hostage.”

You snapped your gaze at him.

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

Taehyung blinked innocently. “No.”

Then he tilted his head.

“It’s supposed to be true.”

Your stomach turned.

Namjoon ignored him and looked at you.

“You’ll stay here until we decide it’s safe.”

You stared at him.

“Until you decide,” you repeated.

Namjoon nodded once.

“Yes.”

Your hands curled into fists.

“So I’m not allowed to leave?”

Namjoon answered simply, “No.”

Jungkook finally spoke, voice low.

“You’re safer this way.”

You whipped your head toward him.

“Safer for who?” you asked. “Me… or you?”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened.

“For you.”

Jin laughed quietly.

“She’s bold.”

Hoseok sighed. “Jin, stop encouraging her.”

Jin smiled at Hoseok.

“I’m not encouraging. I’m enjoying.”

You turned back to Namjoon.

“I want to see my mom.”

Namjoon’s expression didn’t change.

“You’ll see her later today.”

“Why not now?”

Namjoon’s gaze hardened slightly.

“Because right now we’re deciding what to do with our father.”

That sentence made your blood go cold.

You swallowed.

“What are you going to do?”

Taehyung answered casually.

“Something permanent.”

Hoseok snapped, “Taehyung.”

Taehyung smiled. “What? She asked.”

You looked at them, horrified.

Jimin spoke softly.

“Don’t listen to him.”

Taehyung tilted his head.

“Why not? I’m being honest.”

Namjoon raised his hand slightly.

“Enough,” he said.

Then he looked at you.

“Rest. Eat. Don’t open the balcony doors. Don’t open the hallway door.”

You frowned. “What if I need something?”

Jin pointed at Jungkook.

“You call him.”

Your eyes widened. “Why him?”

Jin’s smile widened.

“Because he’s already obsessed.”

Jungkook’s head snapped toward Jin.

“Hyung.”

Jin lifted both hands. “What? Am I wrong?”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened.

Taehyung chuckled.

Yoongi muttered, “He’s not wrong.”

Your stomach twisted at the casual way they said it.

Obsessed.

Like it was a fact.

Like it was expected.

Namjoon looked at Jungkook.

“You’re on first watch,” Namjoon said.

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed.

“Why me?”

Namjoon replied, “Because you won’t leave her alone anyway.”

Silence.

Jungkook didn’t argue.

Jimin’s expression shifted.

A flicker of irritation crossed his face.

“Hyung,” Jimin said quietly, “I can—”

Namjoon cut him off.

“You’ll take second watch.”

Jimin’s jaw clenched slightly.

“…Fine.”

Namjoon looked at Jin.

“You’re third.”

Jin smiled. “With pleasure.”

Hoseok frowned. “What about me?”

Namjoon’s gaze softened a fraction.

“Hoseok, you’re injured. Rest.”

Hoseok’s lips pressed together.

“I’m fine.”

Yoongi spoke without looking up from his phone.

“You’re bleeding through your shirt.”

Hoseok glanced down and cursed under his breath.

Taehyung raised his hand lazily.

“I want a watch.”

Namjoon sighed. “You’ll get one.”

Taehyung smiled. “Good.”

Namjoon looked back at you.

“You will not leave this room without one of us.”

Your throat tightened.

“That’s insane.”

Namjoon’s voice stayed calm.

“It’s necessary.”

You whispered, “You’re treating me like property.”

Jungkook’s voice came from the doorway.

“Because you are.”

Your breath hitched.

You turned sharply toward him.

“What did you say?”

Jungkook’s eyes locked on yours.

He didn’t smile.

He didn’t tease.

He simply repeated, calm and terrifying—

“You’re property.”

The room went quiet.

Even Jin stopped smirking.

Even Taehyung stopped looking amused.

Jimin’s eyes narrowed.

Yoongi’s jaw tightened.

Hoseok looked uncomfortable.

Namjoon’s gaze sharpened.

“Jungkook,” Namjoon warned.

But Jungkook didn’t look away from you.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly.

“Say that again,” you whispered, voice trembling with anger.

Jungkook stepped inside the room.

The door shut behind him with a soft click.

He walked toward you slowly.

“I said,” Jungkook repeated, “you’re property.”

Your hands trembled.

You wanted to slap him.

You wanted to scream.

Instead you forced the words out.

“I’m not yours.”

Jungkook stopped in front of you.

His gaze dropped to your lips for half a second.

Then back to your eyes.

“I didn’t say you were mine,” he murmured.

You blinked.

“What?”

Jungkook leaned slightly closer.

“I said you’re property,” he repeated. “Not mine.”

Your stomach sank.

The implication hit you like a knife.

Not his.

Theirs.

All of them.

Jin chuckled softly.

“Smart girl,” Jin murmured. “She understood.”

You looked around at them.

Seven men.

Seven faces.

Seven different kinds of danger.

And suddenly you felt small.

Not because you were weak.

But because you were outnumbered in every possible way.

Namjoon stepped forward.

“Enough,” he said sharply. “Everyone out.”

Jin pouted. “Aww.”

Taehyung sighed dramatically.

“Party’s over.”

Yoongi walked toward the door without a word.

Hoseok followed, glancing at you with something like sympathy.

Jimin hesitated.

He looked at you.

His voice was quiet.

“If you need anything…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

He just looked at Jungkook.

Like he didn’t trust him.

Then he left.

Jin and Taehyung lingered at the doorway.

Jin leaned against the frame and smiled at you.

“Try not to fall in love,” Jin said sweetly.

Your blood boiled.

“I won’t.”

Jin’s smile widened.

“You will.”

Taehyung waved lazily.

“Good luck, Y/N.”

Then they left too.

Namjoon was last.

Before leaving, he looked at Jungkook.

His voice dropped low.

“Don’t push her too hard.”

Jungkook smirked faintly.

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed.

“That wasn’t a suggestion.”

Jungkook didn’t answer.

Namjoon looked at you.

“Rest,” he said again.

Then he left.

The door shut.

The lock clicked.

And you were alone.

With Jungkook.

Your throat tightened instantly.

You turned toward the window, needing distance.

Needing air.

But Jungkook spoke behind you.

“You’re angry.”

You didn’t answer.

Jungkook moved closer.

You heard his footsteps.

Slow.

Unhurried.

You refused to turn.

“What do you want?” you asked, voice flat.

Jungkook’s voice came closer.

“I want you to stop looking at me like I’m the villain.”

You let out a bitter laugh.

“You are the villain.”

Jungkook was silent for a moment.

Then he said quietly.

“No.”

You finally turned.

He was standing only a few feet away.

His eyes were tired.

Dark.

There was dried blood on his collar from last night. His knuckles were bruised. His hair was still slightly damp like he’d washed quickly but couldn’t scrub the night away.

You swallowed.

“If you’re not the villain,” you whispered, “then what are you?”

Jungkook stepped closer.

He stopped in front of you.

Close enough that your breath hitched.

“I’m the one who will keep you alive,” he said.

Your chest tightened.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

Jungkook tilted his head.

“I know.”

His gaze dropped to your neck.

Your pulse jumped.

Then he lifted his eyes again.

“But you smell like you need someone to.”

Your stomach twisted.

“Stop talking about my scent,” you snapped.

Jungkook’s lips curved faintly.

“I can’t.”

You clenched your jaw.

“Why?”

Jungkook leaned closer, his voice lowering.

“Because you smell different when you’re lying,” he murmured.

Your breath caught.

“What?”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“You smell different when you’re scared,” he continued.

You tried to step back.

He followed.

“You smell different when you’re angry,” he said.

Your back hit the edge of the desk.

You glared up at him.

“And what do I smell like now?” you challenged.

Jungkook stared at you.

For a long moment.

Then he answered quietly.

“Confused.”

Your throat tightened.

He was right.

And you hated him for it.

You swallowed hard.

“Move.”

Jungkook didn’t.

Instead he placed his hands on the desk on either side of you, caging you in again.

You stiffened.

“Jungkook,” you warned.

His eyes flicked to your lips.

Then back to your eyes.

“I’m not going to touch you,” he said.

You laughed coldly.

“Wow. How generous.”

Jungkook’s jaw flexed.

“I want to,” he admitted.

The honesty made your breath catch.

“But I won’t,” he continued. “Not unless you stop fighting me.”

Your chest tightened.

“I’m not fighting you. I’m fighting being trapped.”

Jungkook leaned closer.

“And who trapped you?”

You stared at him.

“…Your father.”

Jungkook nodded slowly.

“Exactly.”

His voice softened slightly.

“So stop acting like I’m the one who did this to you.”

You whispered, “You didn’t stop it either.”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened.

“I tried.”

You blinked.

“You tried?”

Jungkook’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“My mother died,” he said suddenly.

Your breath caught.

The topic shifted so fast it threw you off balance.

You stared at him.

He continued quietly.

“She died and my father didn’t even cry.”

Your throat tightened.

“He brought your mom into the house a month later,” Jungkook said. “And you want to know what I thought?”

You didn’t speak.

You couldn’t.

Jungkook’s voice dropped.

“I thought he replaced her.”

His jaw clenched.

“Like she was nothing.”

Your stomach sank.

“And then he brought you,” Jungkook continued.

His eyes locked onto yours.

“And you looked at us like you weren’t scared.”

You swallowed.

Jungkook’s voice turned rough.

“And it pissed me off.”

You whispered, “So you decided to hurt me.”

Jungkook’s gaze didn’t move.

“Yes.”

The bluntness hit you like a slap.

You stared at him, shocked.

“You’re admitting it?”

Jungkook nodded.

“I wanted you to cry,” he said quietly. “I wanted you to beg.”

Your blood ran cold.

He leaned closer.

“And now that you’re here,” he whispered, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Your breath hitched.

“You hate me,” you whispered.

Jungkook’s eyes softened for half a second.

Then he said something that made your heart pound painfully.

“I hate that I want you.”

Silence filled the room.

You didn’t know what to say.

Because you didn’t want to hear it.

But you couldn’t stop listening.

Jungkook’s gaze drifted over your face again, slow and deliberate.

“Do you know what’s worse?” he asked.

You swallowed.

“What?”

Jungkook’s voice lowered.

“I don’t even want to hurt you anymore.”

Your heart stuttered.

You whispered, “Then stop.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenched.

“I can’t stop,” he admitted.

You frowned. “Why?”

Jungkook leaned in until his forehead nearly touched yours.

“Because if I stop,” he whispered, “then I have to admit I’m obsessed.”

Your breath caught.

He inhaled slowly, eyes fluttering for a second.

Then he whispered against your lips, barely a breath away.

“And I don’t want my brothers to know how badly I need you.”

Your pulse slammed.

You stared at him.

“Need me?” you whispered.

Jungkook’s eyes darkened.

“Yes,” he said simply.

Then he stepped back suddenly, like he hated himself for saying it.

He turned away and walked to the chair by the door.

He sat down, leaning back with his arms crossed.

Like he was trying to regain control.

He didn’t look at you.

But his voice was still quiet.

“You can hate me,” he said.

You didn’t answer.

He continued.

“You can scream at me.”

Still silence.

“But don’t try to run,” Jungkook said.

Your throat tightened.

“Or what?”

Jungkook finally looked at you again.

His gaze was steady.

“I’ll bring you back,” he said.

You whispered, “And then what?”

Jungkook’s lips curved faintly.

“Then you’ll finally understand,” he murmured.

You frowned.

“Understand what?”

Jungkook’s voice dropped, calm and possessive.

“That this room isn’t your prison.”

He paused.

Then added—

“It’s your cage.”

Your blood turned cold.

You stared at him.

And he stared back.

Like he was waiting for you to break.

Like he was waiting for you to accept it.

Minutes passed.

Then you whispered, voice shaking.

“You’re sick.”

Jungkook nodded once.

“I know.”

You swallowed hard.

“And you’re proud of it.”

Jungkook’s gaze darkened.

“No,” he said.

Then his voice lowered.

“I’m terrified of it.”

That answer made your chest ache in a way you didn’t understand.

Because for the first time…

He didn’t sound like a monster.

He sounded like a man who knew he was becoming one.

And you were the reason.

The silence returned.

Then, suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

Jungkook didn’t move.

A voice came through.

“Jungkook. Switch.”

Jimin.

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed.

He stood up slowly, unlocking the door.

Jimin stepped inside.

Fresh clothes. Clean hands. Calm expression.

But his eyes went straight to you.

Not Jungkook.

You.

“You okay?” Jimin asked softly.

You hesitated.

Then nodded.

Jungkook’s voice was cold.

“She’s fine.”

Jimin glanced at Jungkook.

“She looks pale.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened.

“Don’t.”

Jimin’s smile was faint.

“Don’t what?”

Jungkook stepped closer.

“Don’t pretend you care,” he said.

Jimin’s expression didn’t change.

“I do care.”

Jungkook scoffed.

“You care because she’s new.”

Jimin’s gaze flickered.

“No,” he said. “I care because she’s human.”

Your throat tightened.

Jungkook laughed once.

Low.

Bitter.

“And we’re not?”

Jimin’s voice was quiet.

“We stopped being human a long time ago.”

Silence.

That line settled in the room like smoke.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched.

Jimin stepped closer to you.

Not touching.

Just close enough to make Jungkook tense.

“If you need anything,” Jimin said gently, “tell me.”

Jungkook’s voice snapped.

“She doesn’t need you.”

Jimin looked at him.

“Yes,” Jimin said calmly. “She does.”

Jungkook stepped forward.

“You want her?” Jungkook asked quietly.

Jimin didn’t blink.

“Yes.”

Your heart stopped.

Jungkook’s eyes widened slightly.

“You’re saying it like that?” Jungkook whispered.

Jimin’s lips curved.

“I’m not ashamed,” Jimin said. “Are you?”

Jungkook’s hands clenched.

Jimin turned his attention back to you.

His voice softened.

“You’re safe with me,” he said.

You swallowed.

“I don’t feel safe with any of you.”

Jimin nodded slowly.

“That’s fair.”

Jungkook’s voice was low.

“She’s not going to choose you.”

Jimin smiled faintly.

“She doesn’t have to choose.”

Then he looked at Jungkook.

“We’re not fighting over her.”

Jungkook’s gaze sharpened.

“What are we doing then?”

Jimin’s voice dropped.

“We’re waiting,” he said.

Your throat tightened.

Waiting for what?

Jimin’s eyes flicked to you.

Then he answered softly.

“For her to stop pretending she doesn’t feel it too.”

Your breath caught.

You stared at him.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched.

“You’re disgusting,” you whispered.

Jimin smiled faintly.

“Yes,” he said. “But I’m patient.”

Jungkook stepped back, his expression dark.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Take your watch.”

He walked toward the door, but before leaving, he looked at you one last time.

His eyes were unreadable.

Then he said quietly—

“Don’t trust him.”

Jimin smiled as Jungkook passed him.

“And you shouldn’t trust you.”

Jungkook paused.

Then leaned slightly closer to Jimin’s ear.

“Touch her,” Jungkook whispered, “and I’ll kill you.”

Jimin’s smile didn’t fade.

“Try,” he whispered back.

Jungkook left.

The door shut.

And the lock clicked again.

You were alone again.

This time with Jimin.

Jimin turned toward you slowly.

His expression was softer than Jungkook’s.

But that didn’t make him safer.

Sometimes softness was the most dangerous kind of trap.

He walked toward you.

Stopped a few feet away.

Then he sat down on the chair Jungkook had just left.

Like he didn’t want to scare you.

Like he was giving you space.

“You’re shaking,” Jimin said quietly.

You hugged yourself.

“I’m fine.”

Jimin nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “Then I’ll talk.”

You blinked.

“What?”

Jimin leaned back slightly.

“If I sit here in silence,” he said, “you’ll think I’m waiting for you to break.”

Your throat tightened.

“Aren’t you?”

Jimin smiled.

“No,” he said softly. “I’m waiting for you to breathe.”

You swallowed.

Jimin’s voice stayed gentle.

“Tell me something,” he said. “Do you miss your old life?”

You stared at him.

“Yes.”

Jimin nodded slowly.

“What do you miss most?” he asked.

You hesitated.

Then answered quietly.

“Being invisible.”

Jimin’s eyes softened.

“That makes sense,” he murmured.

Then he tilted his head.

“But you’re not invisible here.”

You whispered, “I know.”

Jimin’s gaze lingered on your face.

“You’re not invisible because you’re beautiful,” he said.

You scoffed.

“That’s not why.”

Jimin smiled faintly.

“No,” he admitted. “It’s not.”

His voice lowered.

“You’re not invisible because you walked into a house full of men who hate their father.”

Your breath caught.

“And you reminded us of her,” Jimin continued.

You frowned.

“Her?”

Jimin’s gaze dropped.

“Our mother,” he said quietly.

Your throat tightened.

“You loved her,” you whispered.

Jimin’s smile was sad.

“We worshipped her,” he corrected.

Silence.

Then he looked at you again.

“And then she died,” he said. “And father replaced her.”

You swallowed hard.

“With my mom.”

Jimin nodded.

“And you,” he added softly, “became the proof.”

Your stomach twisted.

“You blame me for that?”

Jimin shook his head.

“No,” he said. “Not anymore.”

You stared.

“Not anymore?”

Jimin’s voice was calm.

“At first, I wanted to break you,” he admitted.

Your breath caught.

“Like Jungkook?”

Jimin smiled faintly.

“Like all of us.”

You felt sick.

Then Jimin leaned forward slightly.

“But now,” he said softly, “I want you to survive.”

You swallowed.

“Why?”

Jimin’s eyes darkened.

“Because I don’t want Rossi to touch what we’ve already touched,” he said.

Your breath hitched.

You stared at him.

He said it so casually.

So calmly.

Like it was normal.

Like you were already stained by them.

You whispered, “You haven’t touched me.”

Jimin smiled.

“No,” he said.

Then he looked at you like he could see under your skin.

“But we’ve already been inside your head.”

Your throat tightened.

He wasn’t wrong.

Jimin stood up slowly.

He didn’t rush.

He didn’t corner you.

He just walked to the table near the couch and poured you a glass of water.

He held it out.

“Drink,” he said.

You hesitated.

Then took it.

Your fingers brushed his.

Warm.

Soft.

You pulled away quickly.

Jimin didn’t react.

He simply sat back down.

“Do you hate Jungkook?” Jimin asked.

You froze.

Then whispered, “Yes.”

Jimin nodded.

“That’s good,” he murmured.

You frowned.

“How is that good?”

Jimin smiled faintly.

“Because if you hated him less,” he said, “you might start wanting him.”

Your heart pounded.

You whispered, “I don’t want him.”

Jimin tilted his head.

“Then why are you blushing?” he asked softly.

Your face heated instantly.

You slammed the glass down on the table.

“I’m not!”

Jimin chuckled quietly.

“You are,” he said.

Then he leaned forward, voice low.

“And you should be careful.”

You swallowed.

“Careful of what?”

Jimin’s eyes darkened.

“Jungkook doesn’t know how to want gently,” he murmured.

Your throat tightened.

“And you do?”

Jimin smiled slowly.

“No,” he admitted.

Then he added softly—

“But I know how to wait.”

The words sank into your skin like a promise.

You stared at him, breathing unevenly.

Jimin didn’t move.

He didn’t touch you.

He didn’t force you.

He just watched you.

Like a patient predator.

And the worst part?

It made your skin crawl… and your heart race at the same time.

The door clicked suddenly.

You flinched.

But it wasn’t Jungkook.

It was Taehyung’s voice from outside.

“Jimin. Switch.”

Jimin sighed lightly.

Then stood up.

He looked at you one last time.

His voice was soft.

“Try to sleep,” he said.

Then he added, almost like a secret—

“And don’t pretend you’re not curious.”

Your breath caught.

Before you could respond, Jimin opened the door.

Taehyung stepped inside.

Smiling.

Always smiling.

Jimin left.

The lock clicked again.

And now…

It was Taehyung.

Taehyung looked around the room like he was inspecting a new toy.

Then he looked at you.

And his smile widened.

“Hi,” he said brightly.

You stared at him.

“…Hi.”

Taehyung tilted his head.

“You look tired,” he said.

You laughed bitterly.

“No kidding.”

Taehyung walked closer, then sat on the edge of the bed like he belonged there.

“So,” he said casually, “which one of us scares you the most?”

Your stomach dropped.

You didn’t answer.

Taehyung smiled.

“Oh,” he said softly. “It’s Jungkook.”

You swallowed hard.

Taehyung leaned forward.

“Or maybe,” he murmured, “it’s Namjoon.”

You clenched your jaw.

“Stop.”

Taehyung chuckled.

“You know what I think?” he asked.

You glared.

“I don’t care.”

Taehyung’s eyes sparkled.

“I think,” he said softly, “you’re not scared of us.”

Your breath caught.

Taehyung leaned closer.

“I think you’re scared of yourself,” he whispered.

Your throat tightened.

“That’s not true.”

Taehyung smiled.

“Isn’t it?” he asked.

Then he stood up and walked slowly toward you.

He stopped in front of you.

Not touching.

But close enough to make you tense.

Then he whispered, voice low and amused—

“Because if you admit you want even a little bit of this…”

His gaze flicked to your lips.

“…you’ll never be able to stop.”

Your breath shattered.

Taehyung stepped back, satisfied.

Then he smiled again.

“Relax,” he said. “I’m not going to touch you.”

You swallowed hard.

“Why not?”

Taehyung’s smile turned wicked.

“Because,” he murmured, “watching you lose control without being touched…”

He tilted his head.

“…is more fun.”

Your blood ran cold.

And you realized—

Jimin was patience.

Jungkook was hunger.

But Taehyung?

Taehyung was a game.

And you were the one being played.

[chokemenamjoonhard]

SCENT OF RUIN

Seven: The Restricted Wing

The dining room stayed quiet for a long time after your mother’s confession.

Not the awkward kind of quiet.

Not the kind that happens when people don’t know what to say.

This silence was sharp.

Heavy.

Like everyone at the table was thinking the same thing—

Jeon Kangtae had crossed a line.

Your mother wiped her tears with trembling fingers, her shoulders shaking as she tried to breathe normally.

You kept your arm around her, even though your own body felt like it was falling apart from the inside.

Because what else could you do?

If you broke down too, you’d both drown.

Namjoon leaned back in his chair, staring at the untouched food like it had offended him.

Yoongi’s fingers tapped slowly against his coffee cup, eyes narrowed.

Hoseok sat stiffly, jaw clenched, as if forcing himself not to move too fast because of the injury.

Taehyung’s gaze drifted around the table, bored but alert.

Jin looked like he was holding back laughter, except there was no humor in his eyes anymore.

Jimin was the only one watching you directly.

Not your mother.

You.

Like he was studying how much fear you could carry before you snapped.

And Jungkook…

Jungkook didn’t sit anymore.

He stood behind your chair like a shadow.

Like a guard.

Or a leash.

You could feel his presence behind you.

Warm.

Threatening.

Possessive.

You hated that you could feel it.

Hated that your body reacted to it.

Namjoon finally spoke.

“Mother,” he said.

Your mother flinched at the title.

She looked up quickly.

“Yes?”

Namjoon’s voice was calm. Too calm.

“What exactly did my father say?”

Your mother swallowed hard.

She glanced at you, then down at her lap.

“He told me…” she whispered, “that Rossi called him directly.”

Yoongi’s gaze sharpened.

Jin’s smile disappeared.

Hoseok muttered, “Of course he did.”

Your mother continued, voice trembling.

“He said Rossi offered him a trade. A clean trade. No bloodshed. No war.”

Taehyung’s lips curved.

“Rossi doesn’t do clean,” he murmured.

Namjoon ignored him.

“And the trade was?” Namjoon asked.

Your mother’s hands twisted together.

“She said… Rossi said he would stop coming after the estate…”

Your stomach dropped.

“…if Kangtae handed Y/N over.”

Silence.

It was so quiet you could hear your own heartbeat.

Your mother’s voice broke.

“He told me if I caused trouble, he would take her himself and deliver her to Rossi.”

Your mother’s lips trembled again.

“And he told me…” she whispered, “…that I should be grateful he even let her live this long.”

Your breath stopped.

Something inside you went cold.

Like your blood had turned to ice.

You stared at the table.

Your vision blurred.

Not because you were crying.

Because your mind couldn’t process how easily a man could say something like that about you.

Like you were disposable.

Like you were meat.

Like your life was currency.

Jin stood up slowly.

The chair scraped harshly against the floor.

“I’m going to kill him,” Jin said calmly.

Hoseok snapped, “Jin.”

Jin didn’t even look at him.

“I’m not joking,” Jin continued. “I’m actually going to kill him.”

Yoongi’s voice was low.

“You’ll have to stand in line.”

Taehyung smiled faintly.

“I’ll hold him down for you.”

Jimin finally spoke, voice quiet.

“Not yet.”

All eyes turned to him.

Jimin’s expression was composed, but his eyes were cold.

“If we kill him now,” Jimin said, “Rossi will think we’re panicking.”

Namjoon nodded once.

“Correct.”

Jungkook finally moved.

He stepped closer to the table, hands planted firmly on the wood.

His voice came out low.

“So we let him live?”

Namjoon’s gaze met his.

“For now,” Namjoon answered.

Jungkook’s jaw tightened.

“And what about her?” Jungkook asked, pointing at you like you weren’t even a person.

You flinched.

Your mother clutched your arm tighter.

Namjoon’s gaze flickered to you.

Then he said firmly.

“We move her.”

You blinked.

“Move me where?” you asked.

Namjoon didn’t answer you directly.

He looked at Hoseok.

“Hoseok. Get the third floor secured.”

Hoseok nodded instantly.

“I’ll handle it.”

Namjoon looked at Jin.

“Jin. Double the guards. No one enters that hallway without a code.”

Jin smiled faintly.

“With pleasure.”

Namjoon looked at Yoongi.

“Yoongi, check the cameras. Make sure there are no blind spots.”

Yoongi stood up without a word.

Namjoon looked at Taehyung.

“Taehyung.”

Taehyung raised his brows innocently.

“Yes?”

Namjoon’s voice was flat.

“Stop smiling.”

Taehyung laughed quietly.

“Sorry.”

Namjoon looked at Jimin.

“Jimin, you stay with her.”

Jimin nodded once.

“Okay.”

Then Namjoon’s gaze turned toward Jungkook.

“And you,” Namjoon said, voice sharp, “will stay away from her.”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened.

You felt his presence shift behind you.

Dangerous.

Offended.

Like Namjoon had insulted his pride.

“She’s not a weapon,” Jungkook said quietly.

Namjoon didn’t flinch.

“She is,” Namjoon replied.

Your stomach turned.

You stood up abruptly.

“Stop,” you said, voice shaking. “Stop talking about me like I’m some object.”

Jimin’s gaze softened slightly.

Jin tilted his head, amused.

Taehyung’s eyes gleamed.

Yoongi didn’t look back.

Hoseok sighed quietly.

Namjoon looked at you.

And for a moment, he looked almost… tired.

“Y/N,” Namjoon said, “this isn’t personal.”

You laughed bitterly.

“It’s literally my life.”

Namjoon’s gaze stayed steady.

“Exactly,” he replied. “That’s why you’ll listen.”

Jungkook’s voice came from behind you.

“She’s scared.”

Namjoon looked at him coldly.

“And whose fault is that?”

Silence.

Jungkook didn’t answer.

Because everyone knew.

Not Rossi.

Not Kangtae.

The brothers.

They’d made you scared the moment you stepped into the estate.

They’d made sure you felt small.

Powerless.

Owned.

Namjoon spoke again.

“Y/N,” he said, “you’re going to be moved to the restricted wing.”

Your throat tightened.

“What restricted wing?”

Taehyung answered casually.

“Our hallway.”

You stared at him.

“What?”

Jin smiled.

“The third floor isn’t just bedrooms,” Jin explained. “It’s where we keep what we don’t want stolen.”

Your skin crawled.

Jimin stood up and walked to you.

He didn’t touch you yet.

He just stood close enough that you could smell him.

Soft cologne.

Clean.

Danger.

“You’ll be safe there,” Jimin said gently.

You whispered, “Safe from Rossi… or safe from leaving?”

Jimin’s eyes flickered.

He didn’t answer.

That was answer enough.

Your mother suddenly spoke.

“No,” she whispered.

Everyone turned toward her.

Your mother stood up, hands trembling.

“No,” she repeated louder. “She stays with me.”

Jungkook’s gaze snapped to her.

Cold.

Sharp.

Like he hated her for even saying it.

Namjoon’s voice stayed calm.

“She can’t.”

Your mother’s eyes filled with tears.

“She’s my daughter.”

Yoongi muttered, “Not anymore.”

Your mother gasped, horrified.

You spun toward Yoongi.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Yoongi stared at you blankly.

“I’m not the enemy,” he said. “Reality is.”

You felt sick.

Your mother stepped forward, voice breaking.

“Please,” she begged. “I’ll do anything. Just let her stay with me.”

Jin’s smile softened.

“Be careful what you offer,” he murmured.

Your mother froze.

Jin leaned forward slightly, voice gentle like poison.

“Because we might take you seriously.”

You clenched your fists.

“Stop talking to her like that.”

Jin blinked slowly.

“Like what?” he asked innocently.

You snapped, “Like she’s disposable!”

Jin smiled.

“She is disposable,” he said.

Your breath caught.

The words punched you in the gut.

Jin tilted his head, still smiling.

“So are you.”

Your vision blurred.

Your hands trembled.

You wanted to slap him.

You wanted to scream.

But before you could, Jungkook’s hand slammed down on the table so hard the plates rattled.

“Enough.”

The room went quiet.

Jungkook’s eyes were on Jin.

Sharp.

Furious.

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Jungkook growled.

Jin’s smile widened.

“Oh?” Jin teased. “So now you care?”

Jungkook’s jaw clenched.

“I said stop.”

Jin held up his hands.

“Okay. Okay.”

But his eyes still gleamed.

Like he enjoyed watching Jungkook unravel.

Namjoon stood.

“That’s settled,” Namjoon said. “She moves today.”

Your heart dropped.

Today.

You looked at your mother.

Your mother’s face crumpled.

“Y/N…” she whispered.

You grabbed her hands.

“Mom, don’t cry,” you whispered quickly.

Your mother sobbed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head.

“It’s not your fault,” you lied.

But it was.

Not because she meant harm.

But because her choices brought you here.

Your mother hugged you tightly.

“I’ll talk to Kangtae,” she whispered. “I’ll make him stop.”

Yoongi laughed quietly.

“You can’t make him stop,” Yoongi said.

Your mother turned to him.

“Why not?!”

Yoongi’s voice was cold.

“Because he doesn’t see you as his wife,” he said.

He finally looked at her.

“He sees you as a leash.”

Your mother froze.

The truth hit her so hard you could see it in her face.

Hoseok stood up.

“Let’s move,” Hoseok said quietly. “Before father comes down.”

That word—father—made your skin crawl.

Namjoon nodded.

“Jimin. Take her.”

Jimin stepped closer.

This time, he gently touched your elbow.

Not rough.

Not forceful.

But it still felt like control.

You jerked slightly.

“I can walk,” you said.

Jimin nodded. “I know.”

But he didn’t remove his hand.

You looked at your mother one last time.

“Stay safe,” you whispered.

Your mother nodded quickly, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“You too.”

Jin murmured, “She won’t be safe.”

Your head snapped toward him.

Jin smiled sweetly.

“She’ll be kept.”

Your stomach twisted.

Jimin guided you out of the dining room.

And the moment you stepped into the hallway, you heard it.

A door opening.

Heavy footsteps.

A voice that made your blood run cold.

Jeon Kangtae.

“Well,” your stepfather said smoothly. “I see everyone’s awake.”

Jimin stopped.

You stopped.

The brothers turned.

Jeon Kangtae walked into the hallway like nothing happened last night.

Like his estate hadn’t been attacked.

Like blood hadn’t stained his marble floors.

He wore a perfectly pressed suit, hair slicked back, and his smile was calm.

Too calm.

His eyes landed on you.

And he smiled wider.

“There she is,” he said.

Your stomach dropped.

Your mother stiffened behind you.

Jeon Kangtae walked closer.

Jungkook’s posture shifted instantly.

Protective.

Namjoon stepped forward, blocking him slightly.

“Father,” Namjoon greeted coldly.

Kangtae chuckled.

“You look tense,” he said. “Did something happen last night?”

Jin smiled.

“Oh, nothing much,” Jin replied. “Just a few men trying to steal your new daughter.”

Kangtae’s eyes flickered.

But only for a second.

Then he smiled again.

“Ah,” he said. “Rossi’s men.”

Your blood ran cold at how casually he said it.

Like Rossi was a business partner.

Not a monster.

Kangtae looked at you again.

“Y/N,” he said gently.

You didn’t answer.

Kangtae stepped closer.

“You should be grateful,” he said. “If it weren’t for me, you’d already be dead.”

Your hands trembled.

Namjoon spoke sharply.

“She is not speaking to you.”

Kangtae laughed.

“Namjoon,” he sighed. “Always so protective.”

His gaze slid toward Jungkook.

“And you,” Kangtae said. “You look angry.”

Jungkook didn’t answer.

His eyes were locked on his father like he wanted to tear his throat out.

Kangtae smiled.

“How sweet,” he murmured. “You boys are attached already.”

Your stomach twisted.

Attached.

Like you were a pet.

Kangtae stepped toward you again.

But before he could reach you—

Jungkook moved.

He stepped in front of you instantly.

Blocking you.

Shielding you with his body.

Your breath caught.

Kangtae raised an eyebrow.

“Oh?” he said. “What’s this?”

Jungkook’s voice was low.

“Don’t come near her.”

Kangtae stared at him.

Then smiled wider.

“My son,” he said, almost amused, “she belongs to me.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenched.

“No,” Jungkook said. “She doesn’t.”

Kangtae’s smile faded slightly.

“You forget yourself,” Kangtae warned.

Jungkook didn’t move.

Namjoon stepped closer too.

“She’s under our protection now,” Namjoon said.

Kangtae laughed.

“Protection?” he repeated. “From Rossi?”

His gaze sharpened.

“You boys don’t understand business.”

Yoongi spoke quietly.

“It’s not business when you sell people.”

Kangtae’s eyes flickered toward Yoongi.

His smile returned.

“Everything is business,” Kangtae replied.

Then his gaze returned to you.

“You have no idea how valuable you are,” he said softly.

Your throat tightened.

“I’m not valuable,” you whispered.

Kangtae smiled.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said. “You are priceless.”

Your skin crawled.

Jin leaned against the wall, smiling.

“Father,” Jin said sweetly, “why don’t you tell her what Rossi offered you?”

Kangtae’s gaze sharpened.

“Watch your mouth,” Kangtae warned.

Jin’s smile widened.

“But it’s true,” Jin said. “He offered you money, didn’t he?”

Your heart stopped.

Your eyes widened.

Kangtae’s voice was cold now.

“Enough.”

Taehyung spoke casually.

“Rossi offered him more than money,” Taehyung murmured.

You turned sharply toward Taehyung.

“What?”

Taehyung smiled.

“He offered him peace,” Taehyung said. “A guarantee.”

Your blood ran cold.

Kangtae’s jaw clenched.

Hoseok spoke quietly.

“And father was tempted.”

Kangtae snapped his gaze to Hoseok.

“You’re injured,” Kangtae said. “You should be resting instead of talking.”

Hoseok smiled faintly.

“You should be dead,” Hoseok replied.

Silence.

Your breath caught.

Kangtae stared at Hoseok.

Then he laughed.

Low.

Dangerous.

“My sons,” Kangtae said. “You’re all emotional.”

He looked at you again.

“This girl has made you forget who you are.”

Jungkook’s voice was sharp.

“We know exactly who we are.”

Kangtae stepped closer to Jungkook.

“And who is that?” Kangtae asked.

Jungkook didn’t hesitate.

“Men who don’t share.”

Your blood froze.

The words weren’t just a threat to Rossi.

They were a threat to Kangtae too.

Kangtae stared at Jungkook.

Then smiled.

And his smile was chilling.

“Good,” he said softly. “Then you understand.”

He leaned slightly closer.

“If Rossi wants her… you’ll give her.”

Namjoon’s voice snapped.

“No.”

Kangtae sighed dramatically.

“You’re my sons,” Kangtae said. “You exist because I allowed you to.”

Yoongi’s voice was ice.

“And you’ll die because we allow you to.”

Your mouth went dry.

Kangtae’s smile finally disappeared.

For the first time, you saw it.

Not a charming businessman.

A monster.

A man who had killed before.

And would kill again.

His gaze slid back to you.

And it felt like being measured.

Weighed.

Priced.

Kangtae stepped forward again, ignoring Jungkook.

Jungkook grabbed his father’s wrist.

Hard.

The hallway went silent.

Your heart pounded.

Kangtae looked down at Jungkook’s hand.

Then slowly lifted his gaze.

“You touched me,” Kangtae said quietly.

Jungkook’s voice was low.

“Touch her,” Jungkook replied, “and I’ll cut your hand off.”

Your breath shattered.

Jimin’s fingers tightened around your elbow.

Namjoon’s eyes darkened.

Taehyung smiled like he was watching a show.

Jin’s expression turned almost pleased.

Yoongi’s gaze was murderous.

Hoseok’s jaw clenched.

Kangtae stared at Jungkook for a long moment.

Then he smiled again.

Not amused.

Not warm.

It was a predator’s smile.

“Interesting,” Kangtae murmured.

Then he leaned closer to Jungkook.

And said softly, so only the brothers could hear—

“Be careful. Rossi doesn’t just want her. He wants to make you beg.”

Your stomach dropped.

Kangtae pulled his wrist free.

Then he stepped back.

He straightened his suit jacket.

And he looked at you one last time.

“You’ll come to me eventually,” he said.

You swallowed hard.

“I won’t.”

Kangtae smiled.

“Yes,” he said calmly. “You will.”

Then he turned away and walked out of the hallway like he owned the air.

Like he hadn’t just threatened you.

Like he hadn’t just nearly started a war with his own sons.

When he was gone…

The hallway stayed quiet.

Jungkook’s breathing was heavy.

Namjoon stared at the floor, jaw clenched.

Jin looked entertained.

Yoongi muttered, “I hate him.”

Hoseok exhaled shakily.

Taehyung murmured, “That was fun.”

Jimin finally spoke.

“We need to move her now.”

Namjoon nodded.

“Agreed.”

You swallowed hard.

“Move me where?” you asked.

Jin smiled.

“To the restricted wing,” he said.

Taehyung added, “Where we can watch you.”

Yoongi muttered, “Where father can’t touch you.”

You blinked.

“So you’re… protecting me from him?”

Hoseok’s eyes softened slightly.

“Yes,” he said.

Then he added, quieter—

“And also from yourself.”

You frowned.

“What does that mean?”

Hoseok didn’t answer.

Jungkook stepped toward you.

His eyes were still burning with rage.

But when he looked at you…

The rage twisted into something else.

Something dangerous.

Something possessive.

He reached out and grabbed your wrist.

Not hard this time.

Firm.

Steady.

“We’re going,” he said.

You tried to pull away.

“No.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed.

“Y/N.”

You swallowed.

“I want my mom.”

Jungkook stared at you for a long moment.

Then he spoke quietly.

“You can see her,” he said. “Later.”

Your chest tightened.

“Promise?”

Jungkook’s gaze darkened.

He didn’t like the word promise.

But he nodded once.

“I’ll bring you to her,” he said.

Then he leaned closer, voice low.

“But don’t test me.”

Your breath hitched.

“Why?” you whispered.

Jungkook’s lips curved faintly.

“Because I’m trying very hard not to do something stupid.”

Your heart raced.

You whispered, “Like what?”

Jungkook’s gaze flickered to your lips.

Then he said softly—

“Like kissing you.”

Your breath shattered.

The hallway went silent.

Everyone heard it.

Jin’s eyes widened.

Taehyung smiled.

Yoongi muttered, “Oh my God.”

Hoseok’s brows lifted.

Jimin’s expression darkened instantly.

Namjoon’s jaw clenched.

And you…

You froze.

Your cheeks burned.

Your throat tightened.

Jungkook didn’t look embarrassed.

He looked serious.

Like he meant it.

Like it wasn’t a tease.

It was a confession he hated himself for.

Jimin stepped closer.

“Jungkook,” Jimin said quietly, “stop.”

Jungkook’s gaze snapped to Jimin.

“What?”

Jimin’s voice was calm.

“You’re going to scare her.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed.

“She’s already scared.”

Namjoon cut in.

“Enough. We move.”

Then Namjoon looked at you.

His voice was firm.

“Y/N, you’re coming with us.”

You swallowed hard.

You didn’t want to.

But the hallway still smelled like danger.

And your stepfather’s words still rang in your ears.

You’ll come to me eventually.

You shook your head.

“No,” you whispered.

But your voice didn’t sound convincing.

Because deep down…

You knew you were already trapped.

And the scariest part?

It wasn’t Rossi’s men.

It wasn’t your stepfather.

It was the way the brothers looked at you now.

Not like an enemy.

Not like an intruder.

Like a possession worth fighting for.

Like a prize worth bleeding for.

Like something they would rather destroy than lose.

Jungkook tightened his grip on your wrist.

“Come on,” he murmured.

And you followed.

Because you didn’t have a choice.

Because your life was no longer yours.

And because the Jeon brothers had finally made their decision.

They weren’t going to let Rossi take you.

They weren’t going to let Kangtae sell you.

They weren’t going to let you leave.

Not now.

Not ever.

[chokemenamjoonhard]

SCENT OF RUIN

Six: House Rules

The first thing you noticed when you woke up…

Was that you weren’t alone.

You blinked slowly, your body stiff under unfamiliar sheets. Your eyes adjusted to the dim morning light filtering through thick curtains.

Then you turned your head.

And froze.

Jungkook was sitting on the edge of the bed.

Fully dressed.

Hair messy.

Arms crossed.

Watching you.

Like he hadn’t slept at all.

Like he’d been waiting for your eyes to open.

You swallowed, throat dry.

“How long have you been staring at me?”

Jungkook didn’t blink.

“Long enough.”

Your stomach twisted.

“That’s creepy.”

He shrugged. “Good.”

You pushed yourself upright, the blanket sliding down your shoulders. You were still in the dress from last night. Wrinkled. Uncomfortable. Humiliating.

You glanced around quickly.

The door was closed.

Still locked.

Your heart jumped.

“You locked me in.”

Jungkook nodded. “Yeah.”

You stared at him in disbelief.

“Are you insane?”

Jungkook leaned back slightly, resting his hands on his thighs.

“You keep asking me that.”

“Because you are,” you snapped.

He smiled faintly. “Maybe.”

You yanked the blanket tighter around yourself.

“Where are the guards Namjoon said he’d put outside?”

“They’re there,” Jungkook answered.

“And I can’t leave?”

“You can leave,” he said casually. “If I let you.”

Your jaw clenched.

“Who do you think you are?”

Jungkook’s gaze traveled down your face slowly.

Then he answered in a calm voice that made your blood boil.

“The one who kept you alive last night.”

You stared at him, breath sharp.

“That doesn’t give you the right to treat me like a prisoner.”

Jungkook tilted his head.

“You are a prisoner.”

Your chest tightened.

“Of who?”

Jungkook’s lips curved.

“Of the situation,” he said.

You scoffed. “Nice excuse.”

He didn’t react.

Instead, he stood up, walking to the dresser. He opened a drawer and tossed something onto the bed.

A set of clothes.

A plain oversized shirt and sweatpants.

You stared at it.

“What is that?”

“Change,” he said.

You narrowed your eyes. “I didn’t ask for your clothes.”

Jungkook turned back to you.

“You’re not walking around my house in that dress.”

You blinked.

“Your house?”

He stepped closer.

“Our house.”

You clenched your fists.

“And who said I’m staying here long enough to need clothes?”

Jungkook’s gaze hardened.

“I did.”

Silence.

You swallowed hard.

“You’re not my owner.”

Jungkook walked closer until he was right beside the bed.

His voice lowered.

“Stop saying that.”

You glared up at him.

“Why? Because you don’t like hearing it?”

Jungkook’s jaw flexed.

“Because it makes me want to prove you wrong.”

Your heart skipped.

Your mouth went dry.

You held his gaze anyway.

“You can’t.”

Jungkook leaned down slightly.

“Try me.”

The words hit you like a shove.

You stared at him, breathing shallow.

Then you broke eye contact first, reaching for the clothes and storming toward the bathroom.

You slammed the door behind you.

You heard him laugh softly on the other side.

Not a warm laugh.

A satisfied one.

When you came out, Jungkook was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

He looked you up and down.

The shirt hung loose on you, covering your thighs. The sweatpants were too long.

You felt ridiculous.

But at least you felt less exposed.

Jungkook nodded slowly.

“Better.”

You glared.

“You sound like my father.”

Jungkook’s smile disappeared.

“What did you say?”

You froze slightly, then lifted your chin.

“I said you sound like my father.”

Jungkook stepped forward.

His voice sharpened.

“Don’t compare me to him.”

You scoffed. “Why? You’re just as controlling.”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened.

“I’m worse,” he said calmly.

Your blood ran cold.

Then he turned toward the door and unlocked it.

“Come,” he said.

You hesitated.

“Where?”

“Breakfast.”

You stared at him.

“I’m not hungry.”

Jungkook turned his head slightly.

“That wasn’t a question.”

Your stomach twisted.

“Stop ordering me around.”

Jungkook’s lips curved.

“You’ll get used to it.”

You clenched your jaw, but you followed.

Because you had no choice.

Two guards stood outside the door.

Armed.

Expressionless.

They nodded at Jungkook.

You stared at them, shocked.

They weren’t just security.

They looked like soldiers.

Jungkook didn’t even glance at them.

He simply walked down the hallway, and you followed, feeling their eyes on your back.

You reached the dining room.

It had been cleaned.

No broken glass.

No overturned chairs.

No blood.

Only the faint smell of bleach lingering in the air.

Like last night never happened.

But you knew it did.

Because the mansion felt quieter.

Like it was holding its breath.

Namjoon was already seated at the table.

Fresh coffee in front of him.

Tablet in hand.

He looked up when you entered.

His gaze flicked briefly to Jungkook.

Then back to you.

“Sit.”

You paused.

Jungkook pulled out a chair beside him.

Not across the table.

Beside.

Like he wanted to keep you close.

You ignored it and sat across from Namjoon instead.

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything.

Instead, he sat down anyway—right beside you.

Too close.

Jin entered next, hair still damp from a shower.

He looked fresh.

Too fresh.

Like he hadn’t been covered in blood hours ago.

He smiled brightly.

“Good morning, sister.”

You didn’t respond.

Jin sat down with exaggerated elegance.

Yoongi walked in after him, looking like he hadn’t slept either.

Hoseok followed, a bandage visible under his shirt.

Jimin came last, calm and quiet.

Taehyung strolled in like he was going to a party.

Taehyung’s eyes immediately found you.

He smiled.

“Morning, Y/N.”

You stared at him. “What?”

Taehyung shrugged.

“You look like you didn’t sleep.”

You replied flatly. “I wonder why.”

Jin laughed.

“Aw, she’s still angry.”

Yoongi muttered, “Of course she is.”

Namjoon set down his tablet.

“Enough,” he said.

Everyone went quiet.

Namjoon looked at you.

“We’re going to talk.”

You swallowed. “About what?”

Namjoon’s voice was calm.

“About what happens from now on.”

Jungkook leaned back in his chair.

“She stays with me,” he said.

Namjoon ignored him.

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed.

“Hyung.”

Namjoon finally looked at him.

“If you interrupt me again,” Namjoon said evenly, “you can eat outside with the guards.”

Jungkook stared at him.

Then he smirked.

“Try it.”

Hoseok sighed. “Not now.”

Jin leaned in toward Namjoon.

“Just tell her the rules already. I’m hungry.”

Namjoon looked back at you.

“First rule,” Namjoon said. “You do not leave this estate.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

Namjoon repeated, “You do not leave.”

You looked at your mother’s empty chair.

“And my mom?”

Hoseok answered.

“She’s resting. She’ll come down later.”

You clenched your fists.

“So she can leave?”

Namjoon replied, “No.”

Your heart dropped.

“You’re keeping her here too?”

Taehyung smiled faintly.

“We’re keeping everyone here.”

You snapped your gaze toward him.

“Why are you acting like this is normal?”

Taehyung shrugged. “Because it is.”

You swallowed hard.

Namjoon continued.

“Second rule,” he said. “No phones. No social media. No calls. No texts.”

You stared at him.

“That’s kidnapping.”

Yoongi spoke without looking up from his coffee.

“No,” he said. “Kidnapping is when you take someone who belongs to someone else.”

You felt your stomach twist.

Jimin finally spoke, voice quiet.

“You belong to danger now.”

You snapped your gaze to him.

“What does that even mean?”

Jimin’s expression didn’t change.

“It means Rossi won’t stop,” he said. “Not until you’re dead. Or in his hands.”

Jin added casually, “Or until he gets what he wants.”

You swallowed.

“And what does he want?”

Silence.

Then Namjoon answered.

“He wants the ledger.”

You frowned. “I already told you I don’t have it.”

Jungkook spoke immediately.

“She doesn’t.”

Namjoon glanced at him. “How would you know?”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed.

“Because she’s not smart enough to hide it.”

You whipped your head toward him.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Jungkook smiled. “See? Not smart.”

Jin laughed loudly.

Hoseok groaned. “Jungkook…”

Taehyung leaned in.

“She’s smart enough to make you crazy,” Taehyung murmured.

Jungkook’s smile faded.

“Shut up.”

Taehyung only smiled wider.

Namjoon continued calmly.

“Third rule,” he said. “You don’t speak to the staff unless necessary.”

You blinked.

“What? Why?”

Yoongi answered.

“Because Rossi pays people.”

Jin added, “And because you’re a liability.”

You clenched your jaw.

“I’m not a liability.”

Jin smiled.

“You’re the biggest one in this house.”

You wanted to throw your glass at him.

Instead, you breathed through your anger.

Namjoon continued.

“Fourth rule,” he said. “You do not go anywhere alone.”

You stared.

“What? Like I’m a child?”

Namjoon didn’t react.

“You’ll be escorted. Always.”

You shook your head.

“This is insane.”

Jungkook muttered, “You should be grateful.”

You snapped your gaze to him.

“Grateful?! You locked me in your room!”

Jungkook leaned forward.

“And you’re alive.”

You slammed your palm on the table.

“That doesn’t make you a hero!”

The room went silent.

Even Jin stopped smiling.

Jungkook stared at you.

His eyes were dark.

Then he spoke quietly.

“You don’t know what happened last night.”

You glared.

“I saw enough.”

Jungkook’s jaw flexed.

“No,” he said. “You didn’t.”

You opened your mouth—

But Namjoon cut in.

“Enough,” he said sharply.

Then he looked at you.

“You’re angry. I understand. But you’re alive because we moved fast.”

You swallowed hard.

“And if I don’t follow your rules?”

Yoongi’s voice was calm.

“Then you die.”

Hoseok added softly, “Or worse.”

Your throat tightened.

“Worse than dying?”

Taehyung’s smile widened.

“Yes.”

You felt sick.

Jimin leaned forward slightly.

“Rossi is not like your father,” he said. “He doesn’t bargain.”

You whispered, “Then why did he send men here instead of coming himself?”

Jin answered instantly.

“Because he wanted to see how far we’d go for you.”

Your heart dropped.

“To test you?”

Jin shook his head.

“To test us.”

You looked around the table.

Their faces were calm.

Too calm.

Like they’d already accepted the war.

Like it was inevitable.

Namjoon spoke again.

“There’s another reason we’re doing this,” he said.

You swallowed. “What reason?”

Namjoon’s gaze sharpened.

“Because Rossi will think you’re valuable if you’re scared.”

You frowned. “That makes no sense.”

Yoongi explained.

“If you look disposable,” he said, “he’ll kill you. If you look protected, he’ll trade.”

You stared at him.

“So you’re using me as bait.”

Jungkook’s chair scraped back abruptly.

He stood up.

“Don’t,” he said.

His voice was low.

Threatening.

You stared at him.

“What? That’s exactly what this is.”

Jungkook stepped closer to the table.

“You’re not bait.”

You scoffed. “Then what am I?”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened.

“You’re ours.”

The words made your stomach twist.

Namjoon’s expression tightened.

“Jungkook.”

Jungkook didn’t care.

He looked straight at you.

“Don’t ever call yourself bait again,” he said.

Your breath hitched.

“Why?”

Jungkook’s voice lowered.

“Because bait is meant to be sacrificed.”

You swallowed.

“And I’m not,” he finished.

Silence filled the room.

Hoseok looked down.

Jimin stared at his plate.

Taehyung smiled faintly.

Yoongi’s jaw clenched.

Jin’s expression was unreadable.

Namjoon finally spoke.

“You’re not being sacrificed,” Namjoon said. “You’re being guarded.”

You whispered, “What’s the difference?”

Namjoon’s gaze held yours.

“The difference,” he said, “is that we don’t lose what belongs to us.”

Your blood ran cold.

Your voice cracked.

“Stop saying that. I don’t belong to you.”

Jin leaned his cheek on his hand.

“You’re really obsessed with that line.”

You snapped at him.

“Because it’s true.”

Jin smiled.

“And yet you’re still sitting here.”

You glared.

“Because you won’t let me leave!”

Jin hummed.

“Exactly.”

You clenched your fists, shaking.

Then you heard footsteps.

Soft.

Familiar.

Your mother entered the dining room.

She looked exhausted.

Her eyes were puffy, like she’d been crying.

Her hair was slightly messy.

But she forced a smile when she saw you.

“Y/N…”

Relief hit you so hard you nearly cried.

You stood up immediately.

“Mom!”

You rushed to her.

She hugged you tightly.

So tightly.

Like she was afraid you’d vanish.

“I’m okay,” you whispered.

Your mother’s hands trembled as she cupped your face.

“Are you hurt?”

You shook your head.

“No. But—Mom, we need to leave.”

Your mother froze.

Her eyes flickered nervously toward Jeon Kangtae’s empty chair.

Then toward Namjoon.

Then toward Jungkook.

And the way she looked at them…

It made your stomach sink.

Because she looked afraid of them.

Not Rossi.

Them.

Your mother swallowed.

“Y/N…” she whispered.

You pulled back slightly.

“What? What is it?”

Your mother’s voice dropped.

“We can’t.”

Your blood went cold.

“What do you mean we can’t?”

Your mother’s lips trembled.

“They said it’s not safe,” she whispered.

You stared at her.

“Mom. They’re keeping us locked in this house.”

Your mother’s eyes filled with tears.

“I know,” she whispered.

You felt like your heart cracked.

“Then why are you agreeing?”

Your mother looked away.

Then she whispered the words that shattered your chest completely.

“Because Jeon Kangtae told me… if I try to take you away, he’ll hand you to Rossi himself.”

Silence.

Your lungs stopped working.

You stared at her, unable to breathe.

“What…?”

Your mother’s voice broke.

“He said Rossi offered him a deal,” she whispered. “A business deal. And he said… he said if I disobey him…”

Her eyes lifted to yours.

“…you’ll pay for it.”

Your knees went weak.

You stumbled backward.

And suddenly the room felt smaller.

Hotter.

Like the walls were closing in.

Namjoon’s jaw tightened.

Hoseok muttered, “Father…”

Jin’s smile disappeared completely.

Yoongi’s eyes turned murderous.

Taehyung’s gaze darkened.

Jimin’s face went cold.

Jungkook…

Jungkook looked like he wanted to kill someone.

His hands clenched into fists.

“What deal?” Jungkook demanded.

Your mother flinched at his tone.

“Jungkook,” Hoseok warned quietly.

Your mother swallowed hard.

“He said Rossi wants the girl,” she whispered. “And he said… he said if Rossi doesn’t get her soon, he’ll take her by force.”

You felt sick.

Your voice cracked.

“So my stepfather is willing to sell me.”

Your mother started crying.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I didn’t know he was like this. I swear I didn’t—”

You stepped toward her again, gripping her arms.

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered.

But it didn’t feel true.

Because you were here.

Because she married him.

Because you were trapped.

And then Namjoon spoke.

His voice was calm.

Cold.

But dangerous.

“My father made a deal with Rossi,” Namjoon said quietly.

Jin muttered, “I’ll kill him.”

Hoseok snapped, “Jin—”

Jin’s eyes turned sharp.

“No. I mean it.”

Yoongi stood up slowly.

“He’ll hand her over,” Yoongi said.

Taehyung’s smile vanished.

“He’ll betray us,” Taehyung murmured.

Jimin’s voice was soft.

“He already has.”

And Jungkook…

Jungkook stepped forward, stopping in front of you.

His gaze locked on your face.

His voice lowered.

“Do you understand now?”

You stared at him.

“Understand what?”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened.

“That the danger isn’t Rossi,” he said.

Then his gaze flickered toward the hallway.

Toward the rest of the house.

“Your danger is my father.”

Your blood ran cold.

Jungkook stepped closer.

He didn’t touch you this time.

But his presence was overwhelming.

And his voice was quieter.

Almost gentle.

“If you leave this house,” he murmured, “you die.”

You swallowed hard.

“And if I stay?”

Jungkook’s lips curved.

His eyes dropped briefly to your mouth.

Then back to your eyes.

“Then you live,” he said.

A pause.

Then he added—

“But you belong to us.”

Your stomach twisted again.

You shook your head.

“No. No, I don’t.”

Jungkook’s gaze sharpened.

“Yes,” he whispered. “You do.”

Namjoon’s voice cut in.

“Enough.”

Jungkook didn’t look away from you.

Namjoon continued.

“She’s scared. Stop pushing her.”

Jungkook finally turned to Namjoon.

“Scared is good,” he said.

Jimin spoke quietly.

“Scared means she won’t run.”

Your breath caught.

You stared at Jimin.

He didn’t even look ashamed.

Like he’d said something obvious.

Your hands trembled.

Your mother clung to you again, crying softly.

And in that moment…

You realized something terrifying.

None of them were trying to help you escape.

They were trying to make sure you stayed.

Namjoon spoke again, voice calm.

“Y/N,” he said. “You will stay on the third floor. You will have guards. You will not go near the outer gates. You will not contact anyone outside.”

You whispered, “You’re imprisoning me.”

Namjoon’s eyes darkened.

“We’re protecting you.”

You shook your head.

“No,” you whispered. “You’re keeping me.”

Taehyung smiled.

“Yes.”

Your breath hitched.

Namjoon glanced at Taehyung sharply.

Taehyung only shrugged.

“What?” Taehyung said. “It’s true.”

Jin leaned forward, voice softer now.

“Y/N,” he said, “you don’t understand the kind of men we are.”

You stared at him.

Jin’s smile returned—slow, dangerous.

“We don’t let go of things once they’re ours.”

Your stomach churned.

Hoseok looked away like he didn’t like hearing it said out loud.

Yoongi stared at you with a cold expression.

Jimin watched you like he was memorizing every reaction.

Taehyung looked entertained.

And Jungkook…

Jungkook stepped closer again.

His voice dropped.

“You smell like you want to run,” he whispered.

Your eyes widened.

“What?”

Jungkook’s lips curved.

“But you won’t,” he murmured.

Then he leaned in slightly.

“Because you’re starting to realize…”

His gaze flicked to your lips.

“…that there’s nowhere safer than inside our hands.”

Your throat tightened.

You whispered, “You’re all sick.”

Jungkook smiled.

“Yes,” he said softly.

Then he added—

“And you’re still here.”

Your breath caught.

Your mother clutched your hand tightly.

And you realized…

This wasn’t a family dinner table.

This was a courtroom.

And the verdict had already been decided.

You were staying.

Whether you wanted to or not.

[chokemenamjoonhard]

SCENT OF RUIN

Five: Locked Doors, Open Hunger

The mansion didn’t feel like a mansion anymore.

It felt like a battlefield dressed in gold.

Even underground, you could hear it—footsteps above, hurried and heavy. Shouting. Orders being barked. Radios crackling. The occasional metallic clang of weapons being moved.

The Jeon estate was still standing.

But something inside it had shifted.

Like the house had finally shown you what it truly was.

Not a home.

A fortress.

And you were the reason it had been tested.

The bunker lights flickered once more before stabilizing. Dust still floated in the air, clinging to the edges of the monitors like ghostly ash.

You stood in the middle of seven men.

Seven stepbrothers.

Seven predators.

And Jungkook’s arm was still around your waist, firm and possessive like a restraint disguised as protection.

You hated how natural it felt.

Hated how your body hadn’t fought it harder.

Hated how your pulse still raced from his words.

If you leave… I won’t be able to breathe again.

That wasn’t love.

That wasn’t care.

That was something sick.

Something dangerous.

Something that would swallow you whole.

Namjoon lowered his gun slightly, his eyes fixed on the monitor screens. His jaw clenched as he watched the last camera feed.

Outside, men lay motionless on the grass.

The security lights made the blood look black.

Jin pressed the radio to his mouth.

“Report,” he said calmly.

A crackle.

Then a voice came through.

“Perimeter cleared. Two guards injured. One dead.”

Your stomach lurched.

One dead.

Jin’s expression didn’t change.

“Clean it up,” he replied, as if he’d ordered someone to wipe spilled wine.

Then he ended the transmission.

Your skin crawled.

Hoseok sat on the edge of one of the cots, pressing a cloth against his side. He looked pale, but his eyes were still alert.

Jimin hovered near the doorway like he was guarding it, his posture calm but tense. Taehyung leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking like this entire night had been a thrilling performance.

Yoongi stood by the shelves, reloading a gun with slow, practiced movements.

And Jungkook…

Jungkook didn’t stop touching you.

His hand remained at your waist.

His fingers occasionally flexed, like he was reassuring himself you were still there.

Still real.

Still his.

You tried to step away.

His grip tightened immediately.

A warning.

Your breath caught.

You turned your head slightly, glaring at him.

“Let go.”

Jungkook’s eyes slid to your face.

His gaze was heavy.

Dark.

“Not yet,” he murmured.

Your chest tightened.

“Jungkook—”

Namjoon’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

“Enough.”

Jungkook’s gaze didn’t move.

Namjoon stepped closer.

His voice was calm, but his authority was absolute.

“She needs space.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened.

“No,” he said.

The word was sharp.

Possessive.

Taehyung’s lips curved.

Yoongi scoffed quietly.

Jin raised an eyebrow like he was enjoying the confrontation.

Hoseok exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing.

Jimin’s gaze flickered toward Jungkook, his expression unreadable.

Namjoon stepped closer until he was right in front of Jungkook.

“You’re not the only one who can protect her,” Namjoon said quietly.

Jungkook’s grip tightened around your waist.

You felt it.

The possessiveness.

The rage.

His chest rose and fell like a caged animal.

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed.

“And you’re not the only one who wants her,” Namjoon added.

Silence fell.

Your blood ran cold.

You turned your head sharply, staring at Namjoon.

What did he mean by that?

But Namjoon didn’t look at you.

His gaze was locked on Jungkook.

Like the two of them were speaking in a language you weren’t meant to understand.

Jungkook’s lips curled.

“You want her?” Jungkook asked, voice low.

Namjoon didn’t deny it.

He only said, “I want her alive.”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened.

“As do I,” he said.

Namjoon’s gaze sharpened.

“Then act like it.”

For a moment, you thought Jungkook might actually snap.

Might actually swing.

But instead, he slowly loosened his grip.

His hand slid away from your waist.

You exhaled shakily, stepping back immediately.

But even with space between you, Jungkook didn’t stop watching.

His eyes tracked every movement you made.

Like if you breathed wrong, he’d pull you back.

Namjoon turned to you.

“Listen carefully,” he said.

His tone wasn’t unkind.

But it wasn’t gentle either.

It was the voice of someone used to being obeyed.

“This estate is on lockdown. No one leaves. No one enters. Not without my approval.”

You swallowed.

“Where’s my mom?” you asked.

Hoseok spoke this time.

“She’s safe,” he said. “Still in the west bunker.”

Your shoulders sagged slightly.

Relief flooded your chest.

But it didn’t last long.

Because Namjoon continued.

“Rossi’s men didn’t come here just to intimidate us,” he said.

Jin smiled faintly.

“They came to collect you,” Jin added.

Your stomach twisted violently.

Jungkook’s gaze snapped to Jin, a warning in his eyes.

Jin only smiled wider.

“What?” Jin said. “It’s the truth.”

Yoongi’s voice was flat.

“Your father made a deal,” he said.

You blinked.

“What deal?” you whispered.

Yoongi stared at you like you were slow.

“The kind of deal men make when they’re desperate,” he replied.

Taehyung chuckled.

“Your father didn’t just steal from Rossi,” he said softly. “He stole something important.”

You shook your head.

“No,” you whispered. “He didn’t… he wouldn’t—”

Jimin’s voice interrupted, calm but chilling.

“He would.”

Your throat tightened.

Your heart hammered.

“What did he steal?” you asked.

Namjoon’s gaze darkened.

“A ledger,” he said. “A list of names. Buyers. Deals. Politicians. Cops. Judges.”

Your skin went cold.

A list like that could destroy an empire.

Your father…

Your father had been suicidal.

“And now Rossi thinks you have it,” Namjoon continued.

You swallowed hard.

“I don’t.”

Jin shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “Rossi doesn’t need truth. He needs leverage.”

You felt sick.

You stumbled back until your knees hit the cot.

You sat down, hands trembling.

“So what now?” you whispered.

Namjoon’s gaze held yours.

“Now,” he said, “we keep you hidden.”

Your stomach dropped.

Hidden.

Like you were contraband.

Like you were something illegal.

Something to lock away.

Jungkook stepped forward.

“No,” he said sharply.

Namjoon looked at him.

“What?”

Jungkook’s eyes flicked to you.

Then back to Namjoon.

“We don’t hide her,” Jungkook said.

His voice was low, dangerous.

“We keep her close.”

Your heart skipped.

Jimin’s lips curved slightly.

Taehyung’s eyes gleamed.

Yoongi muttered, “Here we go.”

Hoseok’s expression tightened.

Jin’s smile turned slow and sharp.

Namjoon’s gaze hardened.

“Explain,” Namjoon said.

Jungkook stepped closer to you.

Too close.

Your breath hitched.

His voice lowered.

“If Rossi wants her,” he murmured, “he’ll send more men.”

Then Jungkook’s eyes flickered over you again.

Slow.

Possessive.

“And if she’s out of my sight…”

His jaw clenched.

“…I’ll kill everyone in this house.”

The words weren’t dramatic.

They were fact.

You stared at him, horrified.

“You’re insane,” you whispered.

Jungkook’s eyes snapped to you.

His gaze softened for a fraction of a second.

Then hardened again.

“I know,” he replied.

Namjoon stepped forward abruptly.

“No,” he said. “She stays in the center hallway room. Two doors away from mine. With security outside.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenched.

“She stays with me.”

Namjoon’s voice sharpened.

“She’s not your toy.”

Jungkook’s lips curled.

“She’s not yours either.”

And suddenly, the air shifted.

This wasn’t about protection anymore.

This was about ownership.

Your stomach twisted.

You pushed yourself to your feet.

“Stop,” you snapped, voice shaking. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here.”

Silence.

All eyes turned to you.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly.

“I’m not a prize,” you continued, voice trembling but fierce. “I’m not something you can pass around like a trophy.”

Jin’s smile softened.

Taehyung’s eyes brightened.

Jimin stared like he was fascinated.

Hoseok looked conflicted.

Yoongi’s gaze narrowed.

Namjoon didn’t look surprised.

And Jungkook…

Jungkook looked amused.

That was what made your blood boil.

Because he wasn’t ashamed.

He wasn’t apologetic.

He looked like he liked your anger.

Like it made you more interesting.

Jungkook stepped closer.

His voice dropped.

“But you are,” he murmured.

Your breath caught.

“What?” you whispered.

Jungkook leaned in, close enough that you could feel his breath.

“You’re a trophy,” he said softly.

His eyes flicked down to your lips.

“And you’re a target.”

Then his gaze lifted again.

“And you’re a temptation.”

Your skin prickled.

Your heart hammered.

Jungkook inhaled slowly.

And his expression changed.

That familiar flicker of hunger.

Of obsession.

Of addiction.

“You smell like you’re mine,” he whispered.

The words made your stomach flip.

You took a shaky step back.

But he followed.

Cornering you again.

Always cornering you.

Your back hit the wall.

Jungkook placed one hand beside your head, caging you in.

His other hand hovered near your waist but didn’t touch.

Not yet.

Namjoon’s voice cut in sharply.

“Jungkook.”

Jungkook didn’t look away from you.

“Stay out of this,” he said.

Namjoon stepped closer.

“You’re not thinking straight.”

Jungkook’s lips curved.

“I’ve never thought straight,” he murmured.

Then he looked at you again.

His voice lowered into something that felt like a confession.

“I can’t breathe when you’re not close.”

Your throat tightened.

You whispered, “That’s not normal.”

Jungkook smiled.

“It is for me.”

Then he stepped back abruptly, as if forcing himself away.

He turned to Namjoon.

“She’s staying in my room,” he said.

Namjoon’s jaw tightened.

“No.”

Jungkook’s eyes flashed.

“Yes.”

Yoongi finally spoke, voice cold.

“If she stays with you,” Yoongi said, “you’ll touch her.”

Your cheeks burned.

Your heart lurched.

Jungkook didn’t deny it.

He only smiled.

And that smile terrified you.

Jimin stepped forward, voice calm.

“Then she should stay with me.”

Your blood froze.

You turned sharply toward Jimin.

His expression was still composed.

But his eyes…

His eyes were hungry too.

Not wild like Jungkook’s.

Not cold like Yoongi’s.

Not amused like Taehyung’s.

Jimin’s hunger was soft.

Beautiful.

The kind that lured you in before swallowing you whole.

Namjoon’s gaze sharpened.

“No,” Namjoon said.

Jin chuckled.

“Why don’t we vote?” Jin suggested.

Hoseok frowned.

“This isn’t funny.”

Jin tilted his head.

“Oh, it’s hilarious.”

Taehyung smiled.

“Let her decide,” Taehyung murmured.

Your chest tightened.

They all looked at you.

Waiting.

Like they expected you to choose.

As if you had a choice at all.

Your throat felt dry.

“I want to stay with my mother,” you said.

Silence.

Then Jin laughed.

Taehyung’s smile deepened.

Yoongi shook his head slightly like you were naïve.

Jimin’s gaze softened, almost pitying.

Namjoon looked away like he’d expected that answer.

And Jungkook…

Jungkook stepped closer again.

His eyes locked onto yours.

And the look in them made your blood freeze.

Because it wasn’t anger.

It was certainty.

“No,” he said.

One word.

Final.

You swallowed hard.

“Jungkook—”

He grabbed your wrist again.

Not rough enough to bruise.

But rough enough to remind you that you were smaller.

Weaker.

Trapped.

And then he started walking toward the bunker door, dragging you with him.

You stumbled.

“Let go!” you snapped.

Jungkook didn’t stop.

Namjoon barked, “Jungkook!”

Jungkook glanced over his shoulder.

“She’s staying with me,” he repeated.

Then he added, voice lower—

“If you try to take her from me, I’ll break your jaw.”

Silence.

Even Namjoon froze.

Jin’s eyebrows lifted.

Taehyung looked delighted.

Yoongi’s gaze sharpened.

Hoseok swore softly.

Jimin’s expression darkened.

And you—

You stared at Jungkook in horror.

Because he’d just threatened his own brother.

For you.

You were dragged up the stairs.

The steel door unlocked.

The hidden passageway opened.

The air upstairs hit you like smoke and gunpowder.

The mansion hallway was dim, lit only by emergency lights.

There were bullet holes in the walls.

Broken glass everywhere.

Blood stains on the marble floor.

Your stomach twisted.

Bodies had been dragged away, but the smell lingered.

Metallic.

Warm.

Wrong.

Jungkook didn’t slow down.

He pulled you through the corridor, past shattered windows, past overturned furniture, past guards carrying weapons.

Everyone moved aside when they saw him.

Not because they respected him.

Because they feared him.

You glanced behind you once.

And saw Namjoon watching.

His expression was dark.

Controlled.

But his eyes…

His eyes looked like they promised consequences.

Jungkook dragged you up the staircase to the third floor.

The hallway was silent now.

Too silent.

The doors along the corridor looked like mouths closed tightly, hiding secrets.

He shoved open his bedroom door.

And pulled you inside.

Then he slammed it shut.

Locked it.

The click echoed in the room like a gunshot.

Your blood turned to ice.

“Jungkook,” you whispered, voice trembling, “open the door.”

He didn’t respond.

Instead, he leaned his forehead against the door for a moment.

Breathing hard.

Like he’d been running on rage alone.

Then he turned to face you.

And his eyes…

His eyes were darker than ever.

Like the attack had awakened something in him.

Something violent.

Something primal.

His gaze dropped to your throat.

Your lips.

Then he inhaled.

Slow.

Deep.

Your skin prickled.

He started walking toward you.

You backed up instinctively until your legs hit the edge of his bed.

You nearly fell, catching yourself with your hands.

Jungkook stopped a few feet away.

His voice was quiet.

“Do you know what Rossi does to girls like you?”

Your stomach clenched.

You shook your head quickly.

“No.”

Jungkook’s lips curled.

“He sells them,” he murmured. “Breaks them. Makes them scream until their voices are gone.”

You felt sick.

Tears stung your eyes.

“And do you know what my father would do?” Jungkook continued.

You swallowed.

“What?”

Jungkook stepped closer.

His voice lowered.

“He’d give you away to keep himself safe.”

Your chest tightened.

Your voice broke.

“No… he wouldn’t.”

Jungkook’s eyes flashed.

“You don’t know him,” he hissed.

Then his gaze softened slightly.

But it wasn’t kindness.

It was obsession.

“And do you know what I would do?” he whispered.

You couldn’t speak.

Your throat was too tight.

Jungkook leaned in.

Close enough that you could smell him again.

Blood.

Soap.

Heat.

Something dangerous underneath.

He brushed his knuckles against your cheek.

Gentle.

But it made you shiver harder than violence.

“I would kill them all,” he whispered.

Then he leaned closer, his mouth near your ear.

“I’d kill my father too,” he murmured.

Your breath hitched.

He pulled back, eyes locked onto yours.

“And I’d still keep you.”

A sob almost escaped you.

“Why?” you whispered. “Why are you doing this?”

Jungkook stared at you.

And for a second…

For one second…

You saw something raw in him.

Something wounded.

Something that made him look less like a monster and more like a boy drowning in his own darkness.

Then his expression hardened again.

And he said the truth.

“Because you smell like you belong to me.”

The words slammed into you.

You shook your head.

“That’s not—”

Jungkook grabbed your waist.

Pulled you off balance.

You gasped as your body collided with his.

Chest to chest.

Heat to heat.

Your hands pressed against his chest instinctively.

He was solid.

Hard.

Warm.

His hand slid up your back, holding you tightly.

And then he inhaled again, burying his face into your neck.

Not kissing.

Just breathing you in.

Like he was starving.

You froze completely.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Jungkook’s voice came out muffled against your skin.

“I can’t stop,” he admitted.

Your body trembled.

Your lips parted.

“Jungkook…”

He lifted his head.

His eyes were wild.

And you could see it.

The fight inside him.

The restraint.

The obsession.

He wanted to do something.

Wanted to cross a line.

But he was holding himself back with sheer force.

His thumb brushed your lower lip.

And your breath hitched again.

He noticed.

Of course he noticed.

His eyes darkened.

His voice dropped into a whisper.

“You’re reacting.”

Your cheeks burned.

“No,” you whispered.

Jungkook’s grip tightened.

“Don’t lie,” he murmured.

He leaned in.

His lips hovered over yours.

You froze.

Every nerve in your body screamed.

Fear.

Anger.

Heat.

Confusion.

And then—

A knock.

Hard.

Loud.

Namjoon’s voice on the other side of the door.

“Jungkook. Open it.”

Jungkook didn’t move.

His gaze stayed on your lips.

Like he didn’t even hear his brother.

Namjoon knocked again.

“Now.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenched.

He pressed his forehead to yours.

And whispered so softly it felt like a secret meant to stain you forever.

“Next time…”

His lips brushed yours.

Barely.

Not a kiss.

A promise.

“…no one will stop me.”

Your breath shattered.

Jungkook stepped back.

Then he turned, walked to the door, and unlocked it.

Namjoon entered immediately.

His gaze flickered to you.

Then to Jungkook.

His expression was cold.

Controlled.

But his voice was sharp.

“You’ve lost your mind.”

Jungkook smiled.

“Maybe,” he said.

Namjoon stepped closer, lowering his voice.

“She’s terrified.”

Jungkook glanced at you.

And for a moment, his eyes softened.

Then he spoke quietly.

“She’s alive.”

Namjoon’s jaw tightened.

“That’s not the only thing that matters.”

Jungkook’s smile faded.

His voice turned dark.

“It is to me.”

Namjoon stared at him.

Then his gaze shifted to you.

“Y/N,” Namjoon said calmly, “I’m assigning guards outside this door. You are not leaving this hallway.”

Your chest tightened.

“I want my mom,” you whispered.

Namjoon’s eyes softened slightly.

“You’ll see her in the morning,” he said. “Tonight, you stay here.”

You looked between them.

Your stomach twisted.

Tonight.

Here.

In Jungkook’s room.

Alone.

With him.

Jungkook stepped closer to you again, his hand brushing your waist lightly.

Not gripping.

Just touching.

Claiming.

You flinched.

He noticed.

His eyes darkened.

But he didn’t stop.

Instead, he whispered near your ear—

“You’re safe.”

You swallowed.

Your voice trembled.

“I don’t feel safe.”

Jungkook’s lips curved.

“That’s because you’re smart,” he murmured.

Then he added, voice low—

“But you’ll get used to me.”

Namjoon’s gaze snapped to Jungkook.

“That’s enough.”

Namjoon turned to leave, then paused at the door.

He looked back once.

And his voice dropped into something that made your skin crawl.

“If you touch her,” Namjoon warned Jungkook, “I’ll bury you myself.”

Then he left.

The door closed.

And the lock clicked again.

Silence filled the room.

You stood frozen.

Your hands shaking.

Your heart pounding so hard it hurt.

Jungkook stared at you.

Then he walked to the window, pulling the curtains closed.

The room darkened.

He turned back to you slowly.

His voice was quiet.

“You should sleep.”

You swallowed.

“I can’t.”

Jungkook stepped closer again.

Slow.

Unhurried.

Like a man approaching something he’d been craving for too long.

He stopped in front of you.

His hand lifted.

He brushed your hair away from your face.

Gentle.

Too gentle.

It didn’t match the monster you knew he was.

Then he whispered:

“I’ll stay awake.”

Your breath caught.

“What?”

Jungkook’s eyes locked onto yours.

“I’ll watch you,” he murmured.

His voice was low, intimate.

“Like a guard dog.”

Then he leaned closer.

“And if you have nightmares…”

His lips hovered near your forehead.

“…I’ll make them regret it.”

Your throat tightened.

You didn’t know whether to cry or scream.

Because the truth was clear now.

The attack didn’t make Jungkook more protective.

It made him worse.

More possessive.

More obsessive.

Like Rossi’s men had only proven something Jungkook already believed.

That you were something worth killing for.

Something worth destroying for.

Something worth keeping.

No matter what it cost you.

And as you stood there trembling in the darkness of his room…

You realized something horrifying.

The danger wasn’t outside the estate.

The danger was in the bed behind you.

And it was staring at you like it was starving.

[chokemenamjoonhard]

Thank you to everyone who got me to 500 likes!

[chokemenamjoonhard]

SCENT OF RUIN

Four: Seven Wolves, One Cage

Time didn’t move normally in the bunker.

It stretched.

It twisted.

It turned seconds into eternities.

You didn’t know how long you sat on the cold floor after Jungkook left—your knees drawn to your chest, your mind spiraling, your body still humming with the memory of his breath against your skin.

You hated him.

You hated all of them.

But your heartbeat still hadn’t slowed.

And worse…

Your scent still lingered in the air.

You could smell yourself—fear, sweat, warmth.

And you could almost imagine Jungkook’s voice again.

You smell like temptation.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to shake it away.

Trying to hold onto anger.

Because anger was safer than whatever else was growing inside you.

Whatever twisted thing that felt like curiosity.

Or craving.

Or—

A sharp beep from the monitor table made you jolt.

You scrambled to your feet, breath catching, heart racing.

The screens flickered again.

More movement outside.

The gardens were lit by harsh security lights now, shadows running across the estate like ghosts with guns.

You saw bodies.

Men in black masks.

Some were crawling. Some weren’t moving at all.

Blood smeared the stone path near the fountain.

Your stomach turned violently.

You pressed a trembling hand over your mouth, swallowing back bile.

This wasn’t a threat anymore.

This was a war.

And you were the reason it started.

A loud thud hit the bunker door.

You screamed.

Then froze.

Another thud.

Harder.

Someone was banging on it.

Your whole body locked.

You stumbled back, eyes wide, breath sharp.

Then a voice cut through the steel.

“Y/N!”

Namjoon.

You recognized it instantly.

Deep.

Controlled.

But strained.

Your lungs collapsed in relief.

You rushed toward the door, hands shaking.

“Namjoon?” you called, voice cracking. “Namjoon, is that you?”

The keypad beeped.

The lock clicked.

The door swung open.

And Namjoon stepped inside.

He looked nothing like he did at dinner.

His expensive suit jacket was gone. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, smeared with blood that didn’t look like his. A cut ran across his cheekbone, and his eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them.

Not cruel.

Not bored.

This was something else.

This was a man who had just killed.

He shut the door behind him and locked it again.

Then he looked at you.

And the silence between you was suffocating.

Your lips parted.

You didn’t know what to say.

Thank you?

Are you okay?

Why am I here?

Why do you all hate me?

Why are you protecting me?

Why does it feel like you’re not protecting me at all?

Namjoon walked forward slowly, gaze scanning you like he was checking for injuries.

“You’re not hurt,” he said finally.

It wasn’t a question.

You swallowed.

“No.”

He nodded once, as if that was all that mattered.

Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

Cracked screen.

He tapped it quickly, then spoke into it.

“She’s safe.”

A pause.

Then his jaw tightened.

He glanced at you again.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Still breathing.”

He ended the call and slipped the phone away.

You hugged yourself, arms wrapped tight around your body.

“What’s happening upstairs?” you asked.

Namjoon’s gaze hardened.

“They breached the outer gate,” he said.

Your blood turned cold.

“They’re inside?”

Namjoon didn’t answer immediately.

His eyes flicked toward the monitors.

Then back to you.

“Not anymore,” he said quietly.

The way he said it made your skin crawl.

Because it didn’t sound like relief.

It sounded like certainty.

Like he’d already decided none of them would leave alive.

A sudden burst of static came from the radio.

Namjoon reached for it immediately.

“Jin?” he said.

Jin’s voice came through—breathing hard.

“We’re moving Elle now,” Jin said. “Hoseok got grazed.”

Your heart jumped.

“Hoseok is hurt?” you blurted.

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if your concern amused him.

Jin continued, “Yoongi’s outside. Taehyung’s with him. Jimin’s… distracted.”

Namjoon’s jaw tightened.

“Distracted?” he repeated.

A pause.

Then Jin’s voice lowered.

“He found one of Rossi’s men alive.”

Your stomach dropped.

Oh God.

You didn’t want to know what that meant.

Namjoon’s expression darkened.

“Keep him under control,” he ordered.

Then he ended the call.

You stared at Namjoon, your breathing shallow.

“What did they want?” you whispered.

Namjoon’s eyes lifted to yours.

And for the first time, you saw something unsettling.

Not hatred.

Not cruelty.

Possession.

“They wanted you,” he said simply.

Your throat tightened.

“Why?” you asked, voice shaking.

Namjoon stepped closer.

His presence filled the room like smoke.

“Because Rossi doesn’t forgive betrayal,” he said. “And because your father made you a bargaining chip.”

Your nails dug into your palms.

“I didn’t do anything,” you whispered.

Namjoon’s gaze didn’t soften.

“I know,” he replied.

Then he leaned slightly forward, voice quieter.

“But you’re still the price.”

A chill ran through you.

Before you could respond, the bunker door opened again.

This time, Jin walked in.

And he looked like sin wrapped in blood.

His white dress shirt was stained at the collar. His knuckles were bruised. His hair was slightly disheveled, like he’d been fighting.

But his face…

His face still held that smile.

That perfect, maddening smile that made you want to scream.

“Well,” Jin said lightly, stepping inside, “there you are.”

He looked you up and down, slow and deliberate.

Then he hummed.

“Still pretty,” he murmured.

Your stomach twisted.

You took a step back instinctively.

Jin’s smile widened.

“Aww,” he teased. “Are you scared of me?”

Namjoon didn’t look amused.

“Stop,” he warned.

Jin raised his hands innocently. “I’m just checking on our new sister.”

He turned his head slightly toward you.

“Sister,” he repeated, tasting the word.

Then he chuckled.

“But you don’t feel like one.”

Your cheeks burned.

You clenched your jaw.

“Where’s my mother?” you demanded.

Jin’s gaze flickered.

His smile softened slightly—only slightly.

“She’s alive,” he said. “Relax.”

The way he said relax made you want to slap him.

Then the bunker door opened again.

Yoongi stepped inside.

And the air changed instantly.

He was quiet.

Too quiet.

His black shirt was torn at the shoulder, revealing a streak of blood along his collarbone. He didn’t look injured enough for it to be his own.

His eyes were cold.

Dead.

Like whatever he’d done outside had emptied him out.

Taehyung followed behind him, wiping his hands with a cloth.

Not because they were dirty.

Because they were stained.

Taehyung looked at you and smiled.

Not kindly.

Not warmly.

But like you were the reason his night had become entertaining.

“You’re alive,” Taehyung said softly.

You didn’t answer.

Your throat felt sealed shut.

Yoongi walked past you without a word, heading to the supply shelves.

He grabbed a bottle of water, twisted the cap, and drank like nothing mattered.

Then he glanced at you over the bottle.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“You’re shaking,” he said flatly.

You swallowed.

“I’m fine,” you lied.

Yoongi scoffed.

“No,” he said. “You’re scared.”

Then he took another drink and added coldly—

“You should be.”

Your blood froze.

Jin laughed quietly.

“Yoongi, don’t scare her too much,” he teased. “We need her to stay sane.”

Yoongi’s gaze sharpened.

“Do we?” he muttered.

Namjoon stepped forward, voice low.

“Enough.”

Taehyung leaned against the wall, still watching you like you were a new pet.

Then he spoke.

“Rossi sent twenty men,” he said casually.

You blinked.

Twenty.

Your stomach lurched.

“Twenty?” you whispered.

Taehyung nodded.

“Only five left breathing,” he added.

Your body went numb.

Jin smiled wider.

“Four,” Jin corrected.

Taehyung shrugged. “Oh. Four.”

You stared at them in horror.

Four men alive.

That meant…

Sixteen dead.

Your knees almost buckled.

And they were saying it like it was nothing.

Like killing was normal.

Like death was dinner conversation.

You backed away until you hit the table again.

Namjoon’s eyes flickered toward you.

He noticed.

He always noticed.

He sighed slightly, then spoke in a calmer tone.

“Sit down,” he said.

It wasn’t a suggestion.

It was an order.

You hesitated.

Then sat, because the way his voice carried authority made your body obey before your pride could protest.

Jin leaned closer to you.

“So,” he murmured. “Do you understand now?”

You glared at him.

“Understand what?” you whispered.

Jin’s voice softened into something almost tender.

“That you can’t survive without us.”

The words hit you like poison.

You opened your mouth—

But before you could speak, the bunker door swung open again.

And this time…

Hoseok stumbled inside.

His smile was gone.

His face was pale, and blood stained the side of his shirt near his ribs.

Jin’s expression changed instantly.

Namjoon stepped forward.

“Hoseok.”

Hoseok waved a hand dismissively.

“I’m fine,” he said, voice strained.

Then he looked at you.

And for the first time since you’d met him…

There was no amusement in his eyes.

Only something sharp.

Protective.

Possessive.

“You’re okay,” Hoseok said quietly.

You nodded, throat tight.

Hoseok exhaled.

Then he smiled again—faint, broken.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I’d hate to lose you already.”

The words made your stomach twist.

Lose you.

Already.

Like you were something they expected to keep.

Then—

A final presence entered.

Jimin.

He stepped inside silently, shutting the door behind him.

His sleeves were rolled up.

His hands were stained.

Not fully bloody.

But enough.

His expression was calm.

Too calm.

He walked past the others without a word.

Then stopped in front of you.

Your breath caught.

He stared at you like he was trying to memorize your face.

Like he was reminding himself what he was fighting for.

And that thought alone terrified you.

Jimin leaned down.

His fingers brushed your cheek gently.

You flinched.

He paused.

Then his thumb traced your skin, feather-light.

“Don’t be scared,” he whispered.

Your breath trembled.

“Why?” you whispered back. “Why are you all doing this?”

Jimin’s lips curved.

But it wasn’t sweet.

It was dark.

“Because they want you,” he murmured.

His eyes flicked toward Namjoon, Jin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung.

Then back to you.

“And we don’t share.”

Your blood ran cold.

Namjoon’s voice cut through the tension.

“Where’s Jungkook?”

Silence.

Jimin straightened slowly.

His gaze shifted away.

Taehyung hummed.

Yoongi’s jaw clenched.

Jin’s smile faded slightly.

Hoseok’s eyes darkened.

Your stomach dropped.

“What?” you whispered. “Where is he?”

No one answered you.

And that silence…

That silence was louder than gunfire.

Namjoon’s voice turned sharp.

“Jimin.”

Jimin finally spoke.

“He’s still upstairs.”

Your breath caught.

“Doing what?” Namjoon demanded.

Jimin’s eyes flickered.

Then he said quietly—

“He went after the one Rossi man we kept alive.”

A cold shiver ran down your spine.

Your mouth went dry.

Jin’s lips parted, then he chuckled softly.

“Oh,” he said. “He’s going to be messy.”

Namjoon swore under his breath.

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed.

“He’ll lose control,” Yoongi muttered.

Taehyung smiled, eyes glittering.

“Or maybe he already did.”

Hoseok’s voice was low.

“He’s too obsessed,” Hoseok said.

The word slammed into the bunker air like a confession.

Obsessed.

Your chest tightened.

With who?

You already knew.

The bunker door suddenly opened again.

Hard.

Fast.

And Jungkook stepped inside.

The room went silent instantly.

He was breathing hard.

His hair was damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead.

His shirt was stained with blood—splattered across his chest and arms like paint.

And his eyes…

His eyes were wild.

Not like before.

Not like cruel teasing.

This was different.

This was the look of a man who had crossed a line.

A man who had tasted violence and couldn’t stop.

Jungkook shut the door behind him and locked it.

Then he turned.

And his gaze landed on you.

You froze.

Because he didn’t look at anyone else.

Not his brothers.

Not Namjoon.

Not Jin.

Not Yoongi.

Not even Hoseok bleeding in the corner.

Only you.

Like you were the only thing that mattered.

He started walking toward you.

Your heart slammed.

Your body tensed.

But you didn’t move.

You couldn’t.

Jungkook stopped in front of you.

His eyes raked over your face, your shoulders, your arms.

Checking.

Scanning.

Like he was searching for proof you were still alive.

Then he exhaled sharply.

His voice came out rough.

“You’re okay.”

It wasn’t a question.

It was relief.

Possessive relief.

You swallowed hard.

“What happened?” you whispered.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he reached down, grabbed your wrist, and yanked you to your feet.

You gasped.

“Jungkook!” Namjoon barked.

Jungkook didn’t look away from you.

His fingers tightened around your wrist.

And you realized something—

He wasn’t just holding you.

He was grounding himself.

Like touching you was the only thing stopping him from going insane.

“Did they touch you?” Jungkook asked suddenly.

His voice was deadly calm.

Your breath hitched.

“What?” you whispered.

Jungkook leaned closer, eyes blazing.

“Did any of them touch you?” he repeated.

You stared at him, shocked.

“No,” you whispered.

Jungkook’s shoulders dropped slightly.

Then his gaze flickered to your throat.

And he inhaled.

Slow.

Deep.

Like he couldn’t help it.

Like your scent was pulling him under.

His eyelids fluttered briefly.

His grip tightened.

And then he whispered, voice thick—

“You smell like fear.”

Your stomach twisted.

“Of course I do,” you whispered.

Jungkook’s eyes darkened.

“Good,” he murmured.

The word sent chills down your spine.

Because it didn’t sound cruel.

It sounded like satisfaction.

Like he liked the idea that you were afraid.

Not because he wanted you broken…

But because fear meant you’d cling to him.

Namjoon stepped closer, voice sharp.

“Jungkook. Let her go.”

Jungkook didn’t.

Jin crossed his arms, smirking.

“Let him,” Jin said. “He’s finally showing what he wants.”

Yoongi’s voice was cold.

“Don’t lose your head,” Yoongi warned Jungkook.

Hoseok leaned against the wall, breathing through pain.

“She’s overwhelmed,” Hoseok said quietly.

Taehyung’s eyes glittered.

“Or maybe she likes it,” Taehyung murmured.

Your breath caught.

You snapped your gaze toward him.

“What?” you hissed.

Taehyung smiled wider.

“You’re still standing,” he said. “If you truly hated him… you’d be screaming.”

Your cheeks burned.

Your throat tightened.

You wanted to deny it.

But you couldn’t.

Because you weren’t screaming.

You were frozen.

Trapped between fear and something else.

Jungkook’s hand slid from your wrist to your waist.

He pulled you closer.

The move was subtle.

But it was unmistakably possessive.

Your body stiffened.

But you didn’t pull away fast enough.

And Jungkook noticed.

His lips curved slightly.

His eyes darkened further.

Then he leaned down to your ear.

And he whispered, so quietly only you could hear—

“If you run…”

His fingers tightened on your waist.

“…I’ll hunt you.”

Your breath shattered.

He pulled back and looked at you again.

Then, to everyone else, he said coldly—

“She’s staying with me.”

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed.

“No,” Namjoon said. “She stays in the center room.”

Jungkook’s gaze sharpened.

“I said she stays with me.”

Jin chuckled.

“This is getting interesting.”

Yoongi’s eyes flickered between the two.

Taehyung looked delighted.

Jimin’s gaze hardened, lips pressing into a thin line.

Hoseok’s expression tightened.

The tension in the bunker thickened.

Not because of Rossi.

Not because of the gunfire.

But because of you.

Because suddenly, you weren’t just a problem.

You were a possession they were willing to fight over.

Namjoon stepped closer to Jungkook.

His voice lowered.

“You don’t get to claim her alone.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenched.

“She’s mine.”

The words made your blood freeze.

Mine.

Jimin’s voice came out soft, dangerous.

“Careful, Jungkook.”

Jungkook didn’t look away from Namjoon.

“She’s in my arms,” he said. “That means she’s mine.”

Yoongi’s laugh was low and humorless.

“She’s not yours,” Yoongi said.

Then his gaze shifted to you.

“She’s not anyone’s.”

Taehyung tilted his head.

“Not yet,” he murmured.

Your breathing became shallow.

Your heart felt like it was collapsing in your chest.

“Stop,” you whispered suddenly, voice trembling.

They all paused.

Every single one of them turned toward you.

Seven sets of eyes.

Seven predators.

You swallowed hard, forcing your voice stronger.

“I’m not a prize,” you said. “I’m not a toy. I’m not your game.”

Silence.

Jungkook’s grip tightened around you.

Namjoon’s eyes darkened.

Jin’s smile softened into something unreadable.

Yoongi’s gaze sharpened.

Hoseok’s expression flickered.

Jimin stared at you like you fascinated him.

Taehyung’s lips curved, amused.

Then Jungkook spoke.

His voice was calm.

Too calm.

“Say it again,” he murmured.

Your throat tightened.

“What?”

Jungkook leaned closer.

“Say you’re not ours,” he whispered.

Your breath hitched.

Your skin prickled.

Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

Because you didn’t know what would happen if you did.

Because something in his eyes promised punishment—not sexual, not tender, but psychological.

The kind that would break your spirit.

Jungkook’s nose brushed your hair.

He inhaled again.

And his voice dropped into something that sounded almost like worship.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

Then he added, so softly it felt like a secret—

“I love it.”

Your blood turned to ice.

Tears burned behind your eyes.

And then, above you…

A final explosion rocked the ceiling.

The lights flickered.

The bunker shook.

Dust fell.

And all seven men moved at once.

Jungkook pulled you into his chest.

Namjoon stepped in front of you like a wall.

Yoongi reached for a gun.

Jin grabbed the radio.

Hoseok hissed in pain but still moved closer.

Jimin positioned himself to your left.

Taehyung smiled faintly, like he was enjoying the chaos.

And for a moment—

For one terrifying moment—

You understood.

They weren’t just dangerous.

They were united.

A pack.

And you were in the middle of them.

Protected.

Trapped.

Claimed.

Jungkook’s lips brushed your temple.

Not a kiss.

A mark.

A warning.

Then he whispered into your hair—

“No one is taking you.”

Your throat tightened.

“Why?” you whispered.

Jungkook’s voice came out low.

“Because if you leave…”

He inhaled, slow, deep.

“…I won’t be able to breathe again.”

Your heart shattered at the words.

Because they didn’t sound like love.

They sounded like obsession.

And obsession didn’t save people.

Obsession ruined them.

[chokemenamjoonhard]

SCENT OF RUIN

Three: The Bunker Beneath the House

The staircase spiraled downward like it was swallowing you whole.

Stone walls. Dim lights. Air that smelled damp and cold—like the mansion above was only a beautiful mask, and this was its true skeleton.

Jungkook’s grip on your wrist never loosened.

If anything, it tightened the farther you went down, as if he was afraid you might disappear.

Or worse…

As if he was afraid someone might take you.

Your feet stumbled on the steps.

Your dress felt wrong now—too tight, too delicate, too expensive for the terror clawing at your throat.

You could still hear the chaos upstairs.

Faint, muffled echoes of shouting.

The crack of gunfire.

The unmistakable sound of glass shattering.

Your lungs burned.

Your heart pounded so hard you thought it might tear through your ribs.

And Jungkook…

Jungkook didn’t look afraid.

He looked furious.

Like the world had insulted him by daring to step into his territory.

You hated that he could be so calm while you were barely holding yourself together.

You hated that he was dragging you like a possession.

You hated—

You hated that your body felt strangely safe behind him.

That was the worst part.

The most disgusting part.

Because even while your mind screamed that he was your enemy…

Your instincts were whispering that he was the only reason you were still breathing.

Jungkook pushed open a steel door at the bottom of the staircase.

A keypad beeped.

He typed in a code without hesitation.

And the heavy door unlocked with a mechanical click.

Then he shoved you inside.

You stumbled forward.

The door slammed shut behind you.

The sound was deafening.

Final.

Like a coffin closing.

You spun around instantly, panic rising in your throat.

“What is this?” you demanded.

Jungkook didn’t answer right away.

He leaned his head back against the door, chest rising and falling as he breathed hard, like he’d been holding his breath since the first gunshot.

His eyes were dark.

Not with fear.

With something else.

Something sharp and violent.

“Underground bunker,” he finally said.

His voice was flat.

Like he’d said it a hundred times before.

You stared at him.

A bunker?

This house had a bunker?

Of course it did.

Because rich men didn’t build safety.

They built fortresses.

You turned around, scanning the room.

It was bigger than you expected.

Concrete walls. Steel shelves lined with supplies. Medical kits. Water. Canned food. Flashlights. Weapons.

There were cots along one side, and a small table with radios and monitors.

A security room.

A survival room.

A place built for war.

You swallowed.

The air was cold, but sweat dampened your palms.

“How long are we staying here?” you asked.

Jungkook stepped away from the door and walked toward you.

Slowly.

The way he always did.

Like he didn’t need to rush because everything would always move at his pace.

“As long as I say,” he replied.

Your jaw clenched.

“I’m not—”

“Don’t,” he cut you off.

One word.

And it silenced you.

Not because you were weak.

But because the tone in his voice was so different now.

Not playful.

Not teasing.

Not cruel for fun.

This was real.

This was Jungkook stripped down to something primal.

He stopped in front of you, towering over you.

“You’re going to listen,” he said quietly. “You’re going to do exactly what I tell you.”

You glared up at him, trembling.

“And if I don’t?” you whispered.

Jungkook leaned closer.

His eyes locked onto yours like he was chaining you with his gaze.

“Then I’ll make you,” he said.

Your stomach dropped.

Your skin prickled.

His words weren’t a threat meant to scare you.

They were a promise.

You swallowed hard.

Then you forced yourself to breathe, forced your voice steady.

“Where are my mom and the others?”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened.

“Safe,” he said. “Probably in the other wing bunker.”

You blinked.

Other wing?

“How many bunkers does this house have?” you asked bitterly.

Jungkook’s mouth twitched.

“Enough,” he said.

Your chest tightened.

So they had prepared for violence.

Prepared for enemies.

Prepared for blood.

Which meant this wasn’t the first time someone had tried to attack this estate.

And you knew what that meant.

This family wasn’t innocent.

Not even close.

You stepped back, putting space between you.

But Jungkook stepped forward again immediately.

Like he didn’t allow distance.

Like space between you offended him.

Your back hit the edge of the table.

Cold metal.

Jungkook placed his hands on either side of you.

Caging you in.

Your breath hitched.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

You glared at him.

“No shit,” you snapped.

He ignored the insult.

His gaze dropped to your throat.

Your collarbone.

The pulse beating violently under your skin.

Then his nostrils flared.

You felt it again.

That subtle inhale.

That sickening attention.

Like your scent wasn’t just something he noticed.

It was something he needed.

His eyes darkened.

And you watched his throat bob as he swallowed.

Then he spoke, voice lower.

“You smell even stronger down here.”

Your stomach flipped.

Heat crawled up your neck.

“Stop,” you whispered.

Jungkook tilted his head.

“Why?” he asked softly.

His voice was too calm.

Too intimate.

Like the world above wasn’t exploding with bullets.

Like none of it mattered except the space between your bodies.

Your hands trembled.

“This isn’t the time,” you said.

Jungkook’s gaze flickered to your lips.

Then back to your eyes.

“Maybe it is,” he murmured.

Your pulse spiked.

You tried to shove him away.

But he caught your wrists effortlessly, pinning them against the table.

Hard.

Your breath punched out.

“Let go!” you hissed.

Jungkook didn’t.

He stared down at you like you were the most infuriating thing he’d ever wanted.

His grip tightened.

Not enough to hurt.

Enough to remind you he could.

“Do you have any idea,” he whispered, voice shaking with restrained rage, “what happens if Rossi takes you?”

You glared at him.

“Why do you care?” you spat.

His eyes flashed.

And for a moment, you saw it.

Not just hatred.

Not just cruelty.

Something deeper.

Something broken.

Something possessive.

His jaw clenched.

Then he leaned closer, so close his breath brushed your mouth.

“I don’t,” he said harshly.

You froze.

His eyes bored into yours.

“I don’t care about you,” he continued. “I care about what’s mine.”

The words hit you like a slap.

Your chest tightened.

“You think I’m yours?” you whispered.

Jungkook’s lips curved.

A dark, dangerous smile.

“You became mine the moment your mother married my father,” he murmured.

Your throat burned.

“That doesn’t make me your property.”

Jungkook’s gaze dropped to your lips again.

“Doesn’t it?” he asked quietly.

Your breathing turned shallow.

The air between you was too hot.

Too tight.

Like the bunker itself was suffocating.

You could feel his body heat.

Could feel the tension in his arms.

The way he held you like he didn’t trust himself to let go.

Then, above you—

A sound.

A muffled explosion.

Dust rained from the ceiling.

You screamed instinctively.

Jungkook immediately pulled you into him.

Your face slammed into his chest.

His arms wrapped around you so tightly you could barely breathe.

But the embrace was firm.

Protective.

Possessive.

Like a shield.

You froze.

Your body reacted before your mind could.

Your hands grabbed his shirt.

Clutched.

Because you were terrified.

Because the sound above felt like death.

Jungkook’s grip tightened.

His hand slid up your back, fingers spreading as he held you against him.

You felt his heartbeat.

Fast.

Hard.

Not as calm as he pretended.

His lips brushed your hair.

Not a kiss.

Not yet.

Just a touch.

But it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Shh,” he murmured.

His voice was low, soothing.

Too intimate.

“You’re safe.”

Your chest rose and fell against him.

You hated how safe it felt.

You hated that your body was betraying you, leaning into him.

You pulled back slightly, breath shaky.

Jungkook’s hands stayed on your waist.

Like he didn’t want you to move away.

Like he didn’t want you to remember you hated him.

You glared up at him.

“This is your fault,” you whispered.

His eyes narrowed.

“My fault?” he repeated.

You shoved at his chest again.

“Your family,” you hissed. “Your father. Your stupid mafia ties—”

Jungkook’s expression snapped.

His hand shot out, gripping your throat.

Not choking.

Not squeezing.

Just holding.

But it was enough to make your blood run cold.

He leaned in, eyes blazing.

“Don’t talk about my father,” he growled.

Your breath hitched.

His thumb brushed your jaw.

“You don’t know anything about us.”

Your voice came out trembling, but you didn’t back down.

“I know you’re all sick,” you whispered.

Jungkook’s eyes darkened.

His grip tightened slightly.

Then he smiled.

And the smile was terrifying.

“You’re right,” he murmured. “We are.”

His gaze slid down your face.

Your neck.

Your collarbone.

His thumb traced the pulse point under your skin.

Your body shuddered involuntarily.

And he noticed.

Of course he noticed.

His eyes gleamed.

“Still shaking,” he murmured.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you whispered.

Jungkook leaned closer.

His voice was almost gentle now.

“Like what?”

You swallowed hard.

“Like you want to—”

Your voice broke.

You couldn’t say it.

Couldn’t admit it out loud.

Because saying it made it real.

Jungkook’s lips curved.

He finished your sentence for you, voice a whisper against your skin.

“Like I want to ruin you?”

Your stomach dropped.

Your breath caught.

And you hated yourself for the heat that bloomed between your thighs.

Because your body reacted.

Even while your mind screamed no.

Jungkook’s eyes sharpened instantly, like he sensed it.

Like he could smell it.

Like your arousal was a scent he could taste in the air.

His nostrils flared again.

And he let out a slow breath.

“Fuck,” he muttered again.

His grip on your throat loosened.

His hand slid down to your shoulder.

Then your arm.

Then your wrist.

And he pinned your hands above your head against the wall.

The cold concrete bit into your skin.

You gasped.

Your eyes widened.

“What are you doing?!” you demanded.

Jungkook stepped closer, pressing his body against yours.

You could feel him.

His hard chest.

His hips.

His thigh sliding between your legs to force them apart.

Your breath stuttered.

And he didn’t kiss you.

Not yet.

He just leaned down, his mouth hovering near your ear.

“I’m reminding you,” he whispered, voice low, rough, “that you should be terrified of me.”

Your heart slammed.

You whispered, voice shaking, “I am.”

Jungkook’s breath hitched.

His lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“Liar,” he murmured.

Then he dragged his nose along the side of your neck.

Not kissing.

Just inhaling.

Breathing you in like you were oxygen.

You froze.

Your entire body went rigid.

Because no one had ever touched you like that.

Not like you were a drug.

Not like you were something he couldn’t stop himself from consuming.

Your breath came out in a shaky gasp.

“Stop,” you whispered.

Jungkook’s voice turned dangerously soft.

“I can’t,” he admitted.

And those words…

Those words scared you more than the gunfire above.

Because they weren’t teasing.

They were true.

His lips brushed your neck, barely there.

A touch so light it made you shiver.

Then he pulled back, eyes dark, jaw clenched.

His restraint looked painful.

Like it was taking everything in him not to devour you.

He stared at you for a long moment.

Then his voice came out rough.

“If you weren’t such a problem,” he murmured, “I wouldn’t want you this much.”

Your throat tightened.

“I hate you,” you whispered.

Jungkook’s eyes softened for half a second.

Then his smile returned.

Cold.

Cruel.

“Good,” he murmured. “Hate me.”

He leaned closer again.

“So you won’t notice when you start needing me.”

Your stomach twisted.

Your body trembled.

Then a sound cut through the tension.

A loud beep from the monitor table.

Jungkook’s head snapped toward it.

He released you immediately, stepping away like he’d been burned.

You stood there, panting, hands shaking, your skin still buzzing where he’d touched you.

Jungkook walked to the security monitors.

The screens flickered with camera feeds from around the estate.

And what you saw made your blood turn to ice.

Men in black.

Masks.

Guns.

Moving through the gardens like shadows.

A guard collapsed near the fountain.

Blood spilled across the stone.

You covered your mouth, horror choking you.

“What… what is happening?” you whispered.

Jungkook’s face hardened.

“Rossi’s men,” he said.

Then he reached for the radio.

A crackle.

Static.

A voice came through.

“Namjoon to Jungkook.”

Jungkook grabbed it instantly.

“I’m here.”

Namjoon’s voice was calm, but strained.

“We’re holding them off. But they’re pushing in.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenched.

“Where’s Y/N’s mother?”

“Safe,” Namjoon replied. “Elle’s in the west bunker with Jin and Hoseok.”

Jungkook exhaled.

Your knees weakened slightly in relief.

Then Namjoon’s voice changed.

“Jungkook.”

“What?” Jungkook snapped.

Namjoon hesitated.

Then—

“We found a message.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed.

“What message?”

Namjoon’s voice turned colder.

“It was carved into one of the dead guards outside.”

Your stomach lurched.

Carved?

Your skin went numb.

Namjoon continued.

“It says: Give us the girl.”

Silence filled the bunker.

Your heart stopped.

You couldn’t breathe.

You couldn’t move.

Your eyes slowly lifted to Jungkook’s face.

He didn’t look at the monitor anymore.

He looked at you.

And the look in his eyes wasn’t hatred now.

It wasn’t cruelty.

It wasn’t teasing.

It was something terrifyingly possessive.

Something feral.

Something that made your blood freeze.

Because he wasn’t thinking about whether you’d survive.

He was thinking about whether he’d let you go.

Jungkook’s voice dropped.

“Tell them no,” he said.

Namjoon’s voice was sharp.

“Jungkook—”

“Tell them no,” Jungkook repeated, louder.

Then he slammed the radio down on the table.

You stumbled back instinctively.

Jungkook turned toward you slowly.

His eyes were dark.

Wild.

And you realized something then.

You weren’t trapped in this bunker because he was saving you.

You were trapped because he was keeping you.

Jungkook stepped toward you.

You backed up until your spine hit the wall.

Your breath came out ragged.

“Jungkook,” you whispered, voice trembling, “don’t.”

He stopped inches away.

Then he leaned down, his lips close enough to feel.

His voice was almost gentle.

“They want you,” he murmured.

Your throat tightened.

“I don’t want them,” you whispered.

Jungkook’s hand slid up your arm.

His fingers wrapped around your wrist again.

That same possessive grip.

He lifted your hand and pressed it against his chest.

You felt his heartbeat pounding beneath your palm.

Fast.

Feral.

His eyes locked on yours.

“But you’re not theirs,” he whispered.

Your lips parted.

Your breathing shook.

He leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching yours.

“You’re not Rossi’s,” he said.

His voice turned rough.

“You’re not my father’s.”

His grip tightened.

“And you’re not even your mother’s anymore.”

Your eyes widened.

“What…?”

Jungkook’s lips brushed the corner of your mouth.

Not a kiss.

A warning.

A promise.

Then he whispered the words that made your stomach drop into hell.

“You’re ours.”

You tried to pull away.

But he caught your waist.

Held you there.

Pinned.

His breath fanned across your lips.

And you could feel it—how close he was to losing control.

His voice trembled.

“You smell like temptation,” he murmured.

You swallowed hard, voice barely there.

“I’m not…”

Jungkook cut you off, voice sharp.

“Don’t lie.”

His nose brushed your cheek.

His lips hovered over yours.

And then he stopped.

Like he was fighting himself.

His jaw clenched.

His eyes squeezed shut for a moment.

When he opened them again, his gaze was darker than ever.

“You’re going to stay here,” he said.

His voice turned commanding.

“Don’t move. Don’t touch anything. Don’t open the door.”

You stared at him.

“And if I do?” you whispered.

Jungkook’s smile was cruel.

“Then I’ll punish you,” he said softly.

Your breath hitched.

Then he turned away, grabbing a gun from the shelf.

Your eyes widened in shock.

“You’re going back up there?” you demanded.

Jungkook looked over his shoulder.

His gaze raked over you one last time.

And the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable.

“I’ll come back,” he said.

His voice dropped, almost intimate.

“And if you’re not here when I do…”

His smile sharpened.

“I’ll tear this entire house apart to find you.”

Then he walked to the steel door.

Typed the code.

The lock clicked.

And before he stepped out, he looked at you again.

Just once.

A glance that felt like chains.

Then he left.

The door slammed shut.

And you were alone.

Alone in the bunker.

Shaking.

Breathing hard.

Your skin still burning where he touched you.

Your lips still tingling where his mouth almost met yours.

And above you…

Gunfire continued.

You slid down the wall slowly, hugging your knees to your chest.

Tears blurred your vision.

Not because you were weak.

But because you were trapped.

Because Rossi wanted you.

Because the Jeon brothers wanted you.

And because the most terrifying part of all…

Was that your body was starting to understand something your mind refused to accept.

You were afraid of Jungkook.

But you were also beginning to crave him.

His scent.

His heat.

His voice.

The way he looked at you like you were something forbidden.

You buried your face into your knees, trembling.

And you whispered into the darkness:

“This is hell.”

But deep down…

You already knew.

Hell wasn’t outside.

Hell was inside this house.

And you were the prize.

[chokemenamjoonhard]

SCENT OF RUIN

Two: Dinner With Devils

You didn’t sleep.

You tried.

You lay in the middle of a bed too large, under sheets too soft, in a room too perfect—while your mind replayed the sound of Jungkook’s voice like a curse branded into your skin.

You smell good.

The words shouldn’t have mattered.

They were nothing.

A stupid comment. A childish insult disguised as something else.

But they clung to you like smoke.

Because he didn’t say it like a compliment.

He said it like a warning.

Like he’d already decided your body belonged to his senses.

Like your existence had become a craving.

You stared at the ceiling for hours, listening to the mansion breathe. Pipes humming. Wind whispering against the balcony doors. Distant footsteps of staff moving like ghosts.

And then, at some point, you heard laughter.

Male laughter.

From down the hall.

Deep. Low. Mocking.

It sent cold dread crawling across your skin.

You didn’t know these men.

Not really.

You knew their names. Their faces. Their cold eyes.

But what you didn’t know was what they were capable of.

Or worse…

What they wanted.

Because you could feel it.

You didn’t belong here.

And they didn’t want you to forget it.

By the time the clock struck seven-thirty, your mother knocked on your door.

Her face was pale.

Her hair was pinned neatly, and she wore a dress that was too expensive for a woman who’d lost everything a month ago.

She looked like she was trying to convince herself this was a new beginning.

But her eyes betrayed her.

They were tired.

Afraid.

“Y/N,” she whispered as she stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her. “Are you okay?”

You didn’t answer immediately.

You didn’t want to lie.

And you didn’t want to tell her the truth.

That you felt like prey.

That the Jeon brothers looked at you like they were already deciding how to break you.

Instead, you forced your voice steady. “Do I have a choice but to be okay?”

Your mother’s lips trembled.

She walked closer, reaching for your hands.

“I didn’t do this to hurt you,” she said.

You pulled away.

Not harshly.

But enough.

“I know,” you murmured, staring at the floor.

Your mother swallowed hard.

“I just…” she whispered, voice cracking. “I didn’t know what else to do. Rossi’s men—”

“I know,” you cut in quickly, sharper than you intended.

Her eyes widened.

You sighed and softened your tone, because no matter how angry you were, you knew she was drowning too.

“I know,” you repeated quietly. “I know why you did it.”

She nodded, tears shimmering in her eyes.

Then she wiped them quickly, forcing a smile.

“Dinner is at eight,” she said. “You should… you should wear something nice.”

Your stomach twisted.

Something nice.

For them?

For men who already hated you?

You didn’t respond. You simply nodded.

Your mother hesitated before stepping out.

“Please,” she whispered at the door, “don’t provoke them.”

The words hit harder than you expected.

Because it meant she knew.

She’d seen it too.

The tension.

The danger.

The silent cruelty in the way those men looked at you.

And she was asking you to survive it quietly.

Your throat tightened.

When she left, you stood still for a moment, breathing through the anger rising inside you like poison.

Then you turned to the closet.

It was filled.

Not with your clothes.

With new ones.

Designer dresses. Silk blouses. skirts, heels—things you never owned, never asked for.

A wardrobe bought for a doll.

A doll meant to be dressed, displayed, controlled.

Your fingers trembled as you touched a black dress.

Simple.

Elegant.

Sharp.

You chose it because it felt like armor.

If you were going to walk into hell, you would do it with your spine straight.

You changed slowly, brushing your hair back and leaving it down. No jewelry. No softness.

You stared at yourself in the mirror.

And for a moment, you didn’t recognize the girl staring back.

She looked older.

Harder.

Like grief had carved a blade into her bones.

You whispered to your reflection:

“Don’t let them see you break.”

At exactly eight, you stepped into the dining hall.

And the first thing you noticed was the table.

Long.

Too long.

A feast laid out like royalty was expected.

Crystal glasses, gold cutlery, plates decorated with fine patterns you couldn’t pronounce.

And at the head of the table sat Jeon Kangtae, your stepfather.

He looked satisfied.

Like a king pleased with his new acquisitions.

Your mother sat beside him, posture stiff, her hands folded in her lap.

And the brothers…

They were already seated.

Namjoon at the left side, calm as ever, eyes briefly flicking toward you before returning to his wine.

Jin leaning back in his chair like the world belonged to him.

Yoongi lounging with a bored expression, one arm draped over the chair.

Hoseok smiling politely, but his eyes were sharper than his lips.

Jimin sitting with perfect posture, beautiful and composed.

Taehyung twirling his glass lazily, watching you like you were a new character in his favorite drama.

And Jungkook…

Jungkook was standing near the window, one hand in his pocket.

He wasn’t looking at you at first.

Then he turned.

And the moment his gaze landed on you—

Your breath caught.

Because he didn’t just look.

He took.

His eyes traveled over your body slowly, openly, without shame.

Like he didn’t care if you noticed.

Like he wanted you to.

His gaze lingered at your collarbone.

Your waist.

Your thighs.

Then lifted back to your face.

And the look in his eyes was darker than yesterday.

Less hateful.

More hungry.

Your pulse spiked.

But you didn’t drop your gaze.

You walked forward.

And the silence that followed you felt like a trap tightening.

“Y/N,” your stepfather greeted smoothly, gesturing toward the empty chair near the middle.

Your chair.

Your assigned place.

Between Jimin and Jungkook.

Of course.

Because they wanted you surrounded.

You swallowed, then sat down.

The chair felt cold.

But the presence beside you was hotter than fire.

Jimin leaned slightly closer, voice soft enough only you could hear.

“You look pretty.”

Your jaw tightened. “Don’t.”

Jimin’s lips curved, amused.

“Why not?” he whispered. “Compliments make you uncomfortable?”

You didn’t answer.

Jungkook sat down on your other side.

The moment he did, your senses sharpened involuntarily.

His scent.

His heat.

The quiet dominance in the way he claimed the space next to you.

You didn’t even look at him.

You stared straight ahead.

But you could feel him.

And then you heard it.

That sound again.

A small inhale.

Not subtle this time.

Jungkook leaned slightly closer, as if drawn by something.

His voice dropped near your ear.

“Black suits you.”

Your fingers curled tightly under the table.

You forced yourself to breathe.

Then finally turned your head slightly.

“What do you want?” you asked coldly.

Jungkook smiled.

“Dinner,” he said simply.

His eyes flickered to your lips again.

Then he leaned back in his chair, satisfied.

Like he’d already won something.

The servants began bringing food.

Plates filled with expensive dishes you couldn’t name.

Steak. Seafood. Garnishes that looked too pretty to eat.

Everyone ate like this was normal.

Like bringing a grieving girl into their home and circling her like wolves was normal.

Your stepfather raised his glass.

“A toast,” he said. “To family.”

Your stomach churned at the word.

Everyone lifted their glasses.

Even the brothers.

Even Jungkook.

You didn’t.

Your stepfather noticed immediately.

His eyes sharpened.

“Y/N,” he said with a warning edge, “a toast.”

You met his gaze.

You didn’t want to make an enemy of him.

Not yet.

So slowly, you reached for your glass.

Raised it.

But you didn’t smile.

Your stepfather’s lips curled in satisfaction.

“To new beginnings,” he said.

Everyone drank.

You took a sip, forcing the liquid down even though it burned your throat.

Then dinner continued.

But the tension didn’t ease.

Not for a second.

Because the brothers kept doing it.

Little things.

Small, cruel, deliberate things.

Yoongi kicked your chair lightly when the servant poured your water, making you jerk.

Hoseok smiled at you and asked, “Are you eating enough? You look fragile.”

Taehyung asked if you missed your old house, his tone dripping with fake innocence.

Jin asked your mother about her wedding night.

Right at the table.

Right in front of you.

Your mother choked on her drink.

Your stepfather laughed.

The brothers laughed too.

Except Namjoon.

Namjoon didn’t laugh.

He simply watched.

And that somehow felt worse.

Because it meant he wasn’t here for entertainment.

He was here for control.

Then Jin leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand.

“So,” he said, eyes glinting, “tell us, Y/N…”

Your stomach tightened.

“What?” you asked.

Jin smiled wider.

“Did you cry when your father got arrested?”

Your blood went cold.

The fork in your hand froze midair.

The room fell silent.

Your mother’s face drained of color.

Jeon Kangtae’s eyes narrowed.

But he didn’t stop Jin.

Of course he didn’t.

Because this was allowed.

This cruelty.

This humiliation.

It was part of the house rules.

You swallowed.

Slowly, you set down your fork.

And you looked Jin dead in the eye.

“No,” you said.

Jin blinked, amused.

“Oh?” he said softly. “Not even once?”

You forced your voice calm.

“I cried when I realized he was stupid enough to trust Rossi.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows lifted.

Hoseok let out a low laugh.

Jimin’s lips parted, impressed.

Taehyung’s smile sharpened.

Even Jungkook looked slightly surprised.

But Jin’s smile didn’t fade.

It only turned colder.

“Careful,” Jin murmured. “You’re brave.”

You leaned slightly forward too.

“So are you,” you said quietly.

The silence grew heavier.

Jungkook shifted beside you.

His knee brushed yours under the table.

Not accidentally.

Your skin flared with awareness.

Then Jungkook spoke, voice calm.

“She’s not wrong.”

All eyes turned to him.

Jungkook leaned back, looking at Jin lazily.

“Her father’s an idiot,” Jungkook said. “But she’s not him.”

Jin’s eyes narrowed.

“Defending her?” he asked, teasing.

Jungkook’s gaze slid toward you.

And his eyes lingered.

“I’m not defending,” he said. “I’m just observing.”

Your stomach dropped.

Because the way he said it felt like he was studying you.

Like you were something he couldn’t stop thinking about.

Your stepfather cleared his throat, trying to steer the conversation away.

But the damage was done.

Your appetite was gone.

Your hands were cold.

And the room felt like it was closing in.

Then, halfway through dinner, the lights flickered.

Just once.

Quick.

Almost unnoticeable.

But everyone stopped.

Namjoon’s head lifted instantly.

Yoongi’s hand paused midair.

Jungkook’s posture stiffened.

Even your stepfather’s smile disappeared.

A second later, a loud bang echoed outside.

Not fireworks.

Not thunder.

A gunshot.

Your blood turned to ice.

Your mother gasped, dropping her fork.

Jeon Kangtae stood abruptly.

The brothers stood too.

Like soldiers responding to instinct.

And then another sound—

A scream from outside.

A servant.

You shot to your feet, heart pounding.

“What’s happening?” you demanded.

Jungkook grabbed your wrist.

Hard.

The grip was firm, possessive, unyielding.

“Sit down,” he ordered.

You tried to yank away.

“Don’t touch me!”

His grip tightened.

His eyes locked on yours.

And for the first time, the playful cruelty was gone.

Now he looked deadly.

“Y/N,” he said, voice low and sharp, “if you don’t shut up and listen to me, you’ll die.”

The words slammed into your chest.

Your breathing stopped.

Another gunshot cracked outside.

Closer.

Your mother screamed your name.

Jeon Kangtae shouted orders.

Servants ran.

Chaos erupted.

But Jungkook didn’t let go of you.

Instead, he yanked you toward him and shoved you behind his body.

You stumbled, catching yourself on his back.

And you realized—

He was shielding you.

Namjoon pulled out his phone, barking commands.

Yoongi moved to the door, eyes cold.

Hoseok flipped the table slightly, pushing your mother back.

Jimin grabbed your arm.

“Stay behind us,” he hissed.

Taehyung’s expression was calm, almost amused.

But his eyes were darker now.

Predatory.

Like he’d been waiting for this.

The door to the dining hall slammed open.

A guard rushed in, blood on his sleeve.

“Sir!” he shouted to Jeon Kangtae. “They’re here!”

Jeon Kangtae’s face hardened.

“Rossi,” Namjoon muttered.

Your stomach dropped.

Rossi’s men.

Here.

At the estate.

Your knees went weak.

Your mother began sobbing quietly.

And Jungkook—

Jungkook leaned closer to your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

“You brought them here,” he murmured.

Your heart shattered.

“I didn’t—” you whispered.

But he didn’t care.

His voice turned vicious.

“You and your mother walked into this house and now Rossi’s dogs are sniffing around.”

His fingers dug into your waist, keeping you close.

Holding you.

Possessing you.

Like even in danger, he couldn’t stop himself.

Another shot rang out.

A window shattered.

Glass exploded across the floor.

Your scream tore out.

Jungkook spun instantly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and dragging you down.

You hit the ground hard.

His body covered yours.

Warm.

Heavy.

Protective.

Your cheek pressed into his chest, and the smell of him invaded your senses.

Then you heard his voice.

Not to you.

To his brothers.

“Get her out,” Jungkook snarled.

Namjoon’s gaze snapped to you.

“Basement,” he ordered.

Jimin grabbed your arm, hauling you up.

Your legs trembled so badly you could barely stand.

You looked at your mother.

She was crying, shaking.

But Hoseok was already pulling her away.

Taehyung stepped close to you, eyes glittering.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly, almost sweet. “If Rossi wants you…”

His lips curved.

“…we’ll just have to keep you first.”

You felt sick.

Jimin yanked you toward the hallway.

You stumbled.

Then Jungkook was suddenly there again, gripping your wrist, pulling you away from Jimin.

“No,” Jungkook snapped. “I’ll take her.”

Jimin’s eyes narrowed. “You sure?”

Jungkook didn’t answer.

He just dragged you through the corridor like you weighed nothing.

Your heart pounded, your breath sharp and panicked.

You could hear shouting behind you.

Gunfire.

Glass breaking.

Guards yelling.

You were shaking so badly you couldn’t even speak.

Jungkook shoved open a door near the end of the hall.

It wasn’t a basement.

It was a hidden staircase.

He pushed you down the steps.

“You’re hurting me!” you cried.

Jungkook didn’t slow down.

“Good,” he said coldly.

Then he stopped suddenly, forcing you against the wall.

Your back hit stone.

Cold.

He stood over you, breathing hard, eyes blazing.

His hand came up and gripped your jaw.

Not gentle.

Not kind.

Possessive.

Like he couldn’t decide whether to kill you or kiss you.

“You don’t understand,” he hissed. “If Rossi gets you…”

His thumb brushed your lower lip.

Your breath hitched.

His eyes darkened at the reaction.

He leaned closer.

Close enough that your lips almost touched.

And his voice dropped into something terrifyingly soft.

“I won’t let anyone take you.”

Your heart slammed.

You hated him.

You hated him.

But your body—

Your body betrayed you, trembling under his touch.

His nostrils flared again, and his gaze flickered down your throat.

Then he inhaled.

Deep.

Like he couldn’t help it.

Like your scent was driving him insane.

His grip tightened on your jaw.

“Fuck,” he muttered, barely audible.

And then his eyes snapped back to yours.

Full of rage.

Full of hunger.

Full of obsession.

“You’re a problem,” he whispered.

Your lips parted, breath shaky.

“Then stay away from me,” you whispered back.

Jungkook smiled.

A slow, dark smile.

“I can’t.”

Then he released you abruptly and yanked you down the stairs again.

“This way,” he ordered.

And you followed—because you had no choice.

Because the house above was under attack.

Because your life was being hunted.

And because the most dangerous man in this mansion…

Was the one holding your wrist.

Next>>

[chokemenamjoonhard]

SCENT OF RUIN

One (full length) Welcome Home, Little Prey.

BTS OT7 x Reader | Dark Romance | Mafia AU

The Jeon estate didn’t feel like a home.

It felt like a museum built for monsters.

Marble floors that reflected your face back at you like a stranger. Gold-framed portraits lining the hallway—men in suits, men with dead eyes, men with power carved into their posture. Chandeliers dripping with crystals that glittered like they were mocking the idea of warmth.

Even the air smelled expensive.

Polished wood, luxury perfume, and something faintly metallic… like the ghost of violence soaked into the walls.

Your suitcase felt heavier than it should’ve. Not because it was full, but because it was all you had left.

Your mother stood beside you, dressed in cream like she was trying to look pure enough to be forgiven. Her hand trembled when she touched your shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, too softly.

It wasn’t okay.

Nothing about this was okay.

A month ago, you were still standing over your father’s courtroom seat, watching him get dragged away like a criminal animal. His face was bruised. His eyes were empty. You didn’t even know if he looked at you because he felt guilty or because he didn’t care anymore.

He’d betrayed the wrong man.

Benjamin Rossi.

A name spoken in whispers.

A mafia boss who didn’t just kill people—he erased them.

Your father had stolen from him. Taken money, weapons, information. And then tried to disappear.

Now he was behind bars.

And you and your mother were left as the price.

Protection, they called it.

A marriage contract dressed up as romance.

Your mother had met Jeon Kangtae at a charity event. A man too handsome, too calm, too polished to be real. He offered her safety. Offered her a way out.

But safety didn’t feel like this.

This felt like being sold.

The front doors shut behind you with a heavy, final thud.

The sound echoed through the mansion like a lock clicking into place.

Your chest tightened.

And then…

Footsteps.

Not the soft kind.

Not the kind belonging to maids or servants.

These footsteps were slow. Deliberate.

Like whoever was approaching didn’t rush for anyone.

You looked up.

A grand staircase curved above you like a throne’s path.

And standing there—

Seven men.

Seven shadows shaped into something dangerously human.

They were lined at the top of the stairs, not welcoming you.

Judging you.

The first one you noticed was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in black like it was his natural skin. His expression was calm, but his eyes were sharp enough to slice.

Kim Namjoon.

The eldest.

He looked like the type of man who didn’t need to raise his voice to ruin someone’s life.

Beside him stood another—handsome in a way that felt unfair. His lips were curved into a smile, but it didn’t feel friendly.

Kim Seokjin.

He leaned against the railing like he belonged there, like this house was built for him.

Next was a man with pale skin and tired eyes, his posture lazy but his stare heavy.

Min Yoongi.

He looked at you like you were already exhausting him.

The fourth one smiled.

Bright. Beautiful. Almost charming.

But something about his grin made your stomach twist, like he enjoyed games that ended in screams.

Jung Hoseok.

The fifth was breathtaking.

There was no other word.

His face was delicate, almost angelic, but his eyes were not. His gaze traced you from head to toe like he was memorizing where you’d bruise first.

Park Jimin.

The sixth man tilted his head slightly, hair falling into his eyes. His expression was amused—like he’d been waiting for this moment.

Kim Taehyung.

And the last one…

He stood one step behind the others.

Not because he was shy.

Because he didn’t need to stand at the front to be dangerous.

He was younger. Dark-eyed. Sharp-jawed. His presence felt like a storm locked behind a calm face.

When his gaze landed on you, your skin prickled.

Like your body recognized a predator before your mind could.

Jeon Jungkook.

He didn’t smile.

He didn’t blink.

He stared at you like you were something he’d already decided he hated.

And then he started walking down the stairs.

One step at a time.

Slow.

Unhurried.

Your mother shifted beside you nervously.

Jeon Kangtae stepped forward, placing a hand on her waist like she belonged to him already.

“My sons,” he said smoothly, voice rich with authority. “This is Elle. And her daughter.”

His hand tightened around your mother possessively.

“And this,” he continued, “is your new family.”

Your stomach churned at the word.

Family.

Namjoon didn’t react. Jin’s smile widened. Yoongi’s eyes narrowed like he was already annoyed. Hoseok looked amused. Jimin’s lips parted slightly, as if tasting the moment. Taehyung’s eyes gleamed with quiet curiosity.

And Jungkook…

He reached the bottom step.

Now he was only a few feet away.

Close enough for you to see the small scar near his eyebrow. Close enough to see the way his eyes darkened as he looked at you.

Not your face.

Not your eyes.

Your throat.

Your wrists.

The way you held your suitcase too tight.

And then he inhaled.

It was subtle.

Barely noticeable.

But you saw it.

His nostrils flared faintly.

His chest rose.

And his gaze sharpened like something inside him snapped awake.

He stepped closer.

Too close.

Your heart slammed.

Your instinct screamed to step back, but pride rooted you to the floor.

Jungkook leaned forward slightly—not touching, not yet, but invading your space like it was his right.

And then his voice dropped.

Soft.

Dangerous.

“So,” he murmured, eyes locked on yours, “this is her.”

His tone made your skin crawl.

Like you weren’t a person.

Like you were a new toy brought into the house.

Jeon Kangtae smiled.

“Yes. She’ll be staying with us from now on.”

Jungkook’s gaze flickered briefly to your mother.

Then back to you.

“Lucky us,” Jin said lightly, descending the stairs with slow elegance. He walked past you like you were furniture, then turned and offered your mother a charming smile.

“Welcome, stepmother.”

Your mother stiffened, forcing a polite nod.

“Thank you… Jin.”

He tilted his head. “You can call me Seokjin. We’re family now, after all.”

His voice was sweet.

But his eyes weren’t.

Namjoon descended next, hands in his pockets, calm as a man attending a business meeting instead of welcoming strangers into his home.

“Rules,” he said simply, stopping near you.

One word.

Cold.

Your father—no, your stepfather—sighed as if he’d expected this.

“Namjoon.”

Namjoon’s gaze didn’t shift.

“In this house,” Namjoon continued, voice even, “we don’t like surprises.”

His eyes settled on you.

“So don’t become one.”

Your throat tightened.

You swallowed, forcing your voice to work. “I don’t want to be here.”

A beat of silence.

Then Yoongi laughed quietly.

It wasn’t a happy laugh.

It was the kind that came from disbelief.

“You think we want you here?” Yoongi muttered, walking down the stairs like he couldn’t be bothered.

He stopped beside Jungkook, eyes half-lidded.

“You’re here because your mother wanted money and protection.”

Your mother flinched like she’d been slapped.

“Yoongi,” Jeon Kangtae warned, voice sharpening.

But Yoongi didn’t care.

He shrugged. “Just saying what everyone’s thinking.”

Hoseok descended next, still smiling, still warm.

But the closer he got, the more you realized his warmth was a mask.

He stopped in front of you and leaned slightly, peering at your face like he was inspecting a bruise.

“Pretty,” he said softly.

Your stomach dropped.

His eyes sparkled.

“But pretty things break easy.”

Your fingers tightened around your suitcase handle until your knuckles turned white.

Jimin came down next, graceful and quiet, like a cat.

He stopped on your other side, so close his shoulder nearly brushed yours.

You could smell his cologne—sweet and expensive.

He smiled.

And it made you uneasy because it wasn’t cruel.

It was almost… delighted.

“You look like you bite,” he said softly.

Then he leaned closer, voice lowering into something intimate.

“I hope you do.”

Heat crept up your neck, but it wasn’t embarrassment.

It was anger.

Taehyung followed, hands in his pockets, his expression thoughtful like he was trying to decide whether you were interesting enough to keep alive.

He stopped in front of you.

His gaze was slow.

Heavy.

He looked at your suitcase.

Then your shoes.

Then your face.

“You’re smaller than I expected,” he murmured.

You narrowed your eyes. “Excuse me?”

Taehyung’s smile deepened.

“Oh,” he said, voice smooth, “you do bite.”

He turned away like he’d already grown bored.

And then Jungkook spoke again.

“You’re going to stay on the third floor,” he said, voice casual.

Jeon Kangtae frowned. “That’s not—”

“It is,” Jungkook cut in.

Your stepfather’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like being challenged.

But Jungkook didn’t look at him.

He looked at you.

“The third floor is ours,” Jungkook continued. “And if she’s family now…”

His eyes flickered down your body again.

Slow.

Possessive.

“…then she stays where we can see her.”

Your lungs forgot how to breathe.

Your mother stepped forward quickly. “I’d prefer if she stayed closer to me—”

Jungkook’s gaze snapped to her.

It was the first time his expression changed.

His eyes darkened.

His voice stayed calm, but the threat underneath it was unmistakable.

“You don’t get to prefer anything.”

Silence dropped like a guillotine.

Jeon Kangtae’s hand tightened on your mother’s waist.

Then he chuckled, as if this was amusing.

“Jungkook,” he said lightly, “be polite.”

Jungkook’s smile was sharp.

“I am being polite.”

Then his gaze returned to you.

And you felt it.

That sickening certainty.

That he wasn’t just angry.

He was fixated.

Like something about you offended him.

Like something about you tempted him.

You hated the way his eyes lingered on your throat again.

Like he could smell you.

Like he could taste you.

Like you were something he wanted to ruin.

“Come,” Namjoon said abruptly.

A maid appeared as if summoned by fear itself.

“Take their bags,” Namjoon instructed.

You instinctively pulled your suitcase closer.

“No,” you said.

The maid froze.

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed.

“You’ll learn quickly,” he said, voice low, “that in this house, you don’t say no.”

Your pulse pounded.

But you lifted your chin anyway.

“I’m not your servant.”

Jin laughed again, soft and amused.

“Oh,” he said, “you’re going to be so fun.”

Jimin’s lips curved.

Yoongi muttered something under his breath.

Hoseok looked entertained.

Taehyung’s eyes glimmered like he’d just found a new favorite show.

And Jungkook—

Jungkook stepped closer.

So close you had to tilt your head slightly to look up at him.

He leaned down, his voice only for you now.

“You’re right,” he murmured.

You held his gaze, refusing to flinch.

He smiled.

“But you’re also wrong.”

His fingers brushed your suitcase handle.

Not gripping it.

Just touching it.

And that touch felt like a warning carved into your skin.

“You’re not our servant,” he whispered.

His eyes flicked to your lips.

Then back to your eyes.

“You’re our problem.”

He tugged the suitcase gently, forcing you to let go.

You resisted, but he was stronger.

And when the suitcase slipped from your grip, you felt it—

The first piece of control leaving you.

Jungkook handed it to the maid without looking away from you.

Then he straightened.

“Dinner is at eight,” Namjoon said, turning away.

“Don’t be late,” Yoongi added lazily.

“Wear something nice,” Jin said. “Or don’t. Either way, we’ll enjoy it.”

Your stomach turned.

Your mother grabbed your hand as the men started walking away, disappearing into the mansion like they owned the air itself.

Which they did.

Because they owned this house.

And now…

They owned you.

You were halfway up the stairs when Jungkook’s voice stopped you.

“Y/N.”

You froze.

No one had called you that in a long time.

Your mother used to say it when you were little. When you’d cry over scraped knees. When you’d hide from storms.

Hearing it now from his mouth felt wrong.

Dirty.

You turned slowly.

Jungkook was still standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching you.

His eyes were unreadable.

His voice softened.

But that only made it worse.

“Don’t forget,” he said, “you’re here because we let you be.”

Your nails dug into your palm.

“I didn’t ask for this,” you snapped.

Jungkook smiled.

“I know,” he said quietly.

Then he tilted his head, inhaling again like he couldn’t help it.

Like he was addicted already.

“And that’s what makes it so interesting.”

Your skin prickled.

Your mother pulled you upstairs, whispering frantic reassurance, but you barely heard her.

Because your mind was stuck on his eyes.

On his tone.

On the way he said your name like it belonged to him.

By the time you reached the third floor, the hallway stretched long and dim, lit by soft golden lamps.

It was quieter up here.

Too quiet.

The air felt different.

More private.

More dangerous.

The maid opened a door at the end of the hall.

“This is your room, miss,” she said quietly.

You stepped inside.

It was large.

Bigger than your old bedroom. Bigger than your entire old apartment.

A king-sized bed. Velvet curtains. A private bathroom. A balcony overlooking the estate grounds.

It should’ve felt like luxury.

Instead it felt like a gilded prison cell.

Because the door clicked shut behind you.

And then…

You heard another sound.

A door opening across the hall.

Slow footsteps.

Coming closer.

You turned toward the window, heart pounding.

Then you heard a knock.

Not polite.

Not hesitant.

A knock that sounded like someone already owned the room.

You didn’t answer.

The door opened anyway.

Jungkook stepped inside like he belonged there.

Like it was his room too.

His hands were in his pockets.

His expression calm.

But his eyes were darker now, like something had settled into him.

Something obsessive.

You took a step back instinctively.

“What are you doing?” you demanded.

Jungkook’s gaze flicked around your room.

Then back to you.

“I’m making sure you understand,” he said.

Your throat tightened. “Understand what?”

He walked closer.

Slow.

Unhurried.

The way predators stalk prey that can’t escape.

He stopped right in front of you.

You could smell him now.

Leather. Soap. Heat.

And something else—something feral underneath the surface.

He leaned down slightly.

Not touching you.

But close enough that his breath brushed your cheek.

“You’re not just in our house,” he murmured.

His eyes locked on yours.

“You’re in our territory.”

Your heart hammered so violently it hurt.

“And if you try to act like you belong…”

His gaze flickered down to your throat again.

Your pulse jumped.

His lips twitched, like he was amused by your fear.

“I’ll remind you,” he whispered.

“Every day.”

Your voice came out shakier than you wanted.

“Get out.”

Jungkook paused.

Then he smiled.

A slow, sharp curve of his mouth.

“Not yet,” he said softly.

And then his eyes darkened again.

“Not until I get bored of you.”

He turned toward the door.

But before leaving, he stopped.

Looked over his shoulder.

“And Y/N?”

Your stomach dropped.

“Yes?” you snapped, trying to sound brave.

Jungkook’s gaze raked over you one last time.

Then he spoke in a voice so quiet it felt like a secret meant only for your skin.

“You smell good.”

The words hit you like a slap.

You stood frozen as he stepped out and closed the door behind him.

And only when the silence returned did you realize the truth.

This wasn’t going to be a normal life.

This wasn’t going to be a normal family.

This was a war.

And you had just walked into the enemy’s home. Next>>

[chokemenamjoonhard]

SCENT OF RUIN

CHAPTER ONE (teaser)

Welcome Home, Little Prey.

The Jeon estate didn’t feel like a home.

It felt like a kingdom built on marble, gold, and quiet violence.

The kind of place where footsteps echoed too loudly, and every hallway felt like it had eyes.

You stood at the entrance, suitcase at your feet, your mother beside you in a cream dress that didn’t match the grief still lingering on her skin.

Elle Castlemaine looked like she belonged here.

You didn’t.

Your gaze flickered over the grand staircase, the chandelier above, the polished floors reflecting your silhouette like a stranger.

Then the front doors shut behind you.

The sound was final.

A seal.

A sentence.

Your mother exhaled shakily. “It’s okay,” she whispered, as if saying it would make it true.

But your throat felt tight.

Because you already knew this wasn’t okay.

Not when your father was imprisoned.

Not when your family name was being hunted by Rossi’s men.

Not when the only reason you were here was because your mother had married a man powerful enough to keep you alive.

A man whose wealth was rumored to come from dealings that weren’t legal.

A man who didn’t look at you like a father.

He looked at you like an obligation.

Then you heard it.

Footsteps.

Slow. Heavy.

Descending.

And when you turned, your blood went cold.

Seven men.

Seven shadows carved into human form.

They stood at the top of the staircase like gods watching something crawl into their temple.

The first one you recognized was Namjoon.

Tall. Broad. Expression unreadable.

His gaze landed on you like he was measuring how much trouble you’d be.

Beside him, Jin leaned lazily against the railing, lips curled into a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Yoongi looked bored—until his eyes narrowed slightly, like you were an annoyance he hadn’t asked for.

Hoseok smiled warmly.

But it was the kind of warmth that felt fake, like sunlight before a storm.

Jimin tilted his head, studying you like you were something delicate he wanted to crush.

Taehyung looked amused.

Like he already knew exactly how you would break.

And then there was the last one.

The one standing just a step behind the rest.

Black hair. Dark eyes.

A sharp jaw.

A presence that felt too intense for someone so young.

He didn’t smile.

He didn’t blink.

He stared at you like you were a problem.

Like you were prey.

Your stomach tightened when his gaze dropped briefly to your lips.

Then your throat.

Then your hands.

And then he inhaled.

A subtle breath.

But you noticed.

Because his eyes changed.

Just slightly.

Like he’d tasted something in the air.

Something that belonged to you.

Your scent.

And the look he gave you after that?

It wasn’t hatred anymore.

It was something darker.

Something hungry.

Your stepbrother’s voice cut through the silence.

“So,” he said, slowly walking down the stairs, “this is her.”

He stopped in front of you.

Close enough that you could smell him—clean soap, expensive cologne, and something dangerous underneath.

He leaned forward slightly.

Not enough to touch.

But enough to invade.

You stiffened.

His gaze locked onto yours.

And his voice dropped into something almost soft.

Almost intimate.

“Welcome home,” he murmured.

Then he smiled.

Not kindly.

Not warmly.

But like a threat.

“Little prey.” Next>>

[chokemenamjoonhard]

SCENT OF RUIN

BTS OT7 x Reader | Dark Romance | Mafia AU

PROLOGUE

Family is everything… until it becomes a cage.

I always knew my father was a cold-hearted bastard.

The kind of man who didn’t flinch at blood.

The kind who smiled at funerals.

The kind who could bury his wife and still smell like expensive cologne and power.

But the moment he brought her into our home—barely a month after my mother’s death—something feral woke inside me.

A rage so violent it didn’t feel human.

Elle Castlemaine.

A woman with soft hands, polished nails, and eyes that pretended innocence while standing beside my father like she belonged there.

And her daughter.

You.

You walked through the front doors of the Jeon estate like a ghost—quiet, pale, holding a small suitcase like it was the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

You didn’t cry.

That was the first thing I noticed.

Not when my father introduced you.

Not when the maids whispered.

Not when the chandeliers reflected off your eyes like shards of glass.

You just stood there, stiff, controlled, as if you’d already accepted the fact that your life was over.

And maybe it was.

Because everyone in Seoul knew the truth.

Your father had betrayed Benjamin Rossi, the Stidda Mafia boss.

He stole money.

He stole weapons.

He stole secrets.

And now he was rotting behind bars while you and your mother were dragged into my father’s home like trophies.

Protection.

That’s what my father called it.

A deal.

A marriage.

A convenient way to keep Rossi from slaughtering you both.

But I didn’t care about your ruined family.

I didn’t care that your father was a criminal.

Didn’t care that you’d lost your home.

Didn’t care that your life was being hunted like prey.

All I cared about was the sound that haunted the halls at night.

The moans coming from my father’s bedroom.

Soft.

Feminine.

Wrong.

And I hated you for it.

Even though it wasn’t you making those sounds.

It was your mother.

Still, when my father slipped a diamond ring onto Elle Castlemaine’s finger—

You became mine.

Mine to glare at across dinner tables.

Mine to make uncomfortable.

Mine to remind that you didn’t belong here.

Because you weren’t family.

You were an intruder.

A stain.

A replacement.

And I wasn’t the only one who thought so.

My brothers did too.

Kim Namjoon, the eldest, the quiet storm.

Kim Seokjin, who smiled like a knife.

Min Yoongi, cold-eyed and cruel in silence.

Jung Hoseok, whose laughter could turn into something dark.

Park Jimin, beautiful and dangerous.

Kim Taehyung, unpredictable, amused by suffering.

And me.

Jeon Jungkook.

The youngest, but the most vicious when it came to what belonged to us.

You became our favorite obsession.

Our sick game.

Our entertainment.

Because watching you try to survive in our house?

It was addictive.

Watching you pretend you didn’t flinch when we walked too close?

Even better.

But then something worse happened.

Something I didn’t expect.

I started noticing you.

Your voice.

Your stubborn pride.

Your eyes that held fire even when your hands trembled.

And your scent.

God.

Your scent was a curse.

Warm and soft, like something forbidden.

Like something meant to be held down into the sheets and ruined until it forgot how to resist.

I hated you.

I hated you so much it hurt.

But the more I hated you…

The more my body betrayed me.

The more my thoughts circled you like a predator.

And the moment I realized I didn’t just want to break you—

I wanted to keep you—

I knew I was already doomed.

Because in this house, nothing stayed innocent.

Not for long.

This is experimental au I don't know yet if I should continue with this tbh. Lol

Let me know what you think.

Next>>

[youmyjhope]

Min Yoongi Eating Your Pussy / Audio Smut

What an interesting request:)) guys pls give me more requests, making them is so fun

Imagine Yoongi eating you out in his house while his favourite song is playing. 💀

im wet af

Idk what to say anymore. I created a masterpiece.

do not repost

[bts-trash-blog]

Time~OT7 Werewolf Au

Chapter Five: Breakfast 

Summary: Time. It’s always passing by, always changing things that you wish stayed the same. It brought the good and it brought the bad, hell it brought the down right best time in your life. The best thing in your life came with time. It came with some stumbled steps, tough spots…it came with time.

Pairing: Werewolf!BTS X Werewolf!reader

Warning: Angst, mentions of violence, sexual assault, blood, gore, sex, matting, bitting, knotting, insecurities, slow burn. Fluff, and just one of my stories tbh.

PREV._.NEXT

You felt sick. Your hands were shaking as your arms wrapped around your middle, fingers gripping the sweater that smelt almost so much like Jin, the sweet cinnamon scent almost too much. Your mind couldn’t wrap around what Jimin wanted to submit to you. To give you a piece of himself so open, so freely without even knowing who you were, what you were and where you came from. The sick feeling, twisting in your stomach, only grew with the two Omegas in front of you, staring at you, Jin with a knowing look and Jimin with wide blown out eyes.

Keep reading

[sor-vette]

It could be a wolf, you reckoned, but it was too big. It sprang in and out of the tree line, seemingly chasing the train. Though before you could inspect it further, its gaze met yours, peculiarly silver eyes boring into yours, widening for a moment in disbelief, and then it disappeared.

• type: Namjoon x f! reader • genre: hybrid! au, angst & fluff • w/c: 3.3k

• note! the reader has glasses and it’s for plot reasons and the reason is here • c/w: discussions of illness, violence, strangling, murder (yeah, we're going from zero to hundred)

•series’ masterlist• other works • tagging: @ilsan-seoul; @alpacaparkaseok; @introlxv, @pinkcherrybombs; @mayla548; @juju-227592; @chimchimmarie;

• a/n: You can now support me on kofi, thank you if you do :)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 | 𝐫𝐞-𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧

“At least thirty eight people have been reported dead after mudslides and overflooding of several rivers. Local authorities have come underneath heavy criticism of the belated response as forecasters have been warning of severe torrential downpour for weeks now. The largest damage has been inflicted on Odulin.”

As the car doors slammed shut you turned away from the broadcast. The Ducharme family, having just lost their house, had packed and were leaving to live with their relatives. At least they were alive. And keeping quiet about the mysteriously intelligent wolf whose place had taken a large man. Neither of you discussed the events that took place, parting almost amicably. You soberly waved them off, the little boy, Danny Ducharme, giving you one last tearful look before he blurred into nothingness. 

Poor kid. 

“Here are some pants and shirts. They should fit him,” Mrs Paskew waddled out, holding in her hand a plastic bag full of clothes. “I wrangled them from old Sandyman and he’s a big guy. In any case, they’re clean, you can use them as rags if you like.”

You had to squint to see anything but colours. It was nothing too fancy, largely jeans and flannels but you were grateful to have anything right now. And so will Namjoon. Your friend from the city who arrived at the most unfortunate of times, should anyone ask. 

“Now take some of this,” Mrs Paskew pulled you out of your thoughts by shoving yet another bag in your overexerted hands. 

“No, Mrs Paskew…”

“Don’t even try to give it back! Now here are eggs, I know you like them, and a chunk of pork. Some fruits as well. The road's blocked all the way in the west, god knows when I’ll get another supply.”

“You don’t have to do all of this” you murmured but she only waved. 

“Nonsense! Neighbours should help each other out. How is your “friend” doing?”

It didn’t go amiss how her eyes twinkled in mischief at Namjoon’s mention. 

“Settling in,” you vaguely replied. 

“That’s good. Will he be staying for long?”

Now that you also were curious about but he was suspiciously unhelpful about it. 

“I go where you go,” he had said and you tried to be not too delusional about it but he had stayed in the town hall and when you were allowed into Onsilvaekst right by your side. You prayed it wasn’t some misplaced gratitude but Namjoon seemed happy. Relaxed, even. 

“Depends on him,” you answered after a moment of silence. 

She gave you a mysterious smile. 

“They get attached fast, you know,” she smirked. “Once you’re their person they don’t let go for nothing.”

A cold shiver ran up your spine. 

“They?” you faintly echoed. 

“Romantics!”

You suppressed a sigh of relief.

“He’s got a nice, romantic face and those eyes - phew! Boy’s a charmer.”

You shook your head at her antics. 

Onsilvaekst had luckily not been flooded, its houses stood firm, even your janky shed. The same couldn't be said about gardens. Overwatered and sinking in mud, the vegetation was destroyed promising a winter of hardship but at least everyone was alive. 

The walk back home was hard. You had no glasses and living half blind was taxing work. Gradually your head began to ache and that in turn caused itching in the gums. Much like a teething child, recently you found yourself biting on anything hard to release that pain. 

A yelp in the distance caused you to jump and you heard him long before you spotted the white blur at the end of a farming field of an unknown neighbour. They were dead and either had no family or they simply never bothered to visit the property left behind as such you and Namjoon often used it as a shortcut. 

“Be careful, there’s an incline -!” 

The warning came too late and Namjoon somersaulted over the unseen dip on the ground. 

“How have you not snapped your neck is nothing short of a miracle,” you sighed as he shook out the fall. 

A wet nose landed on your stomach before he let out sharp whines, clawing at the ground. 

“I feel fine!” you huffed. “Stop insisting I’m sick!”

Apparently you smelt bitter.

Immediately his large head began to fervently rub against your clothes. You were fine with him scenting you, it being a natural part of mammalian hybrids as long as he didn’t literally pee on you - a remark which had you looking at his offended back for the entirety of the evening. Once he was satisfied and the mysterious bitter scent was masked you lugged the bags into his mouth. 

“Make yourself useful,” you grumbled and reached to hug him for stability. Going home was usually spent like this - peaceful, with you carding through his fur that was smoothing out by the day and him carrying something back, the fluffy tail swishing avidly behind. It was unusual but not unwelcome. Namjoon was comfortable. 

You examined him from the corner of your eye. 

The hybrid status explained his oddity but not his appearance. He was simply too…big for any natural born hybrid. Not to mention his strength and speed. It was as though he was a weapon, set loose in the world and subsequently forgotten about. Instinctively you turned to where the mountains were. It wasn’t at all an unlikely theory. Still…did it matter? Namjoon had not mentioned it once, showing more concern for either your garden or you, or when the next meal is going to be. Perhaps it would serve no use to poke at the dead past. As you lingered, Namjoon bayed and nosed your shin. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m moving,” you groused, leaving the hills be hills. 

“Go to a doctor.”

“Jesus!”

The plate dropped into the skin dousing you both in soap water. 

Unhelpfully Namjoon patted you down with the damp towel he'd previously used to dry his hair.

"Your smell is off," he insisted with a worried frown. "But you're not ovulating and you're not on your period."

"Which is not something you should be so privy to," flushing, you cut him off.

He shrugged carelessly in response.

"It's quite normal part of biology."

"I'm getting my glasses tomorrow. I'll go for a quick checkup if there's time."

That pleased him and immediately you felt his head brush against yours in approval. As his arms snaked around your waist you couldn't not question the nature of his attachment. Even for a hybrid this was close. Abruptly he sneezed right into your hair.

"Gross," you grumbled, trying to wrench yourself free of his hold. The muscles of his arms were nothing to scoff at and in a way it was even more heartwarming to see how eagerly he used that strength to care for flowers, inspect the crawling bugs, turn the pages of old books. Any other hybrid of his disposition would be a mercenary or at the very least be recruited for police force but not Namjoon - he thrived in this quiet Eden, simultaneously being a wise, experiences man and a child chasing squirrels. It was yet another unanswered question - just for how long had he been alone?

He was quite educated and absorbed information like a sponge but his clumsiness ruled out any meticulous military training any hybrid breeding centre would enforce upon him.

You shook your head solemnly. He was safe now and with some company even if unexpectedly it was yours.

"Peel the potatoes," at long last you managed to slip away from hid grasp and hand a bag of Mrs Paskew's gifted stock. Watching this ginormous man grow confused over the logistics of a peeler was entertainment in itself but his recurrent aversion to your smell had wormed its way into your heart.

"You can make a trip home" your mother puffed on the other side of the phone line. "It's not so far."

"It's not the distance..." you muttered, nibbling at the skin of your fingers whilst laying in bed.

Namjoon poked a head through the door, cautiously padding to the bed, careful not to make any suspicious noise.

"It's just I...made a friend and I don't want to leave him alone."

Namjoon shifted awkwardly by the side.

"You've got a boyfriend?!" your mother shrieks jubilant. "Bring him over! Please! Whose the miracle worker who managed to capture your heart?"

"Just a...guy," you evaded. "I've got to go, mom, okay?"

"Okay but don't think you can hide him forever!"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

When the call ended, you plopped down on the bed - weary.

"She's very enthusiastic," Namjoon commented off hand.

"Too much," you replied face mushed in the pillow before turning back to face him.

"You're," you waved a vague gesture. "You're in a human form."

"Yeah," he scratched awkwardly by his ear. "I can...change if you like."

"I don't really care. Stay in which form you like," you shrugged and a small smile bloomed onto his face after which he nestled underneath the covers, long limbs falling over the edges. He was sweltering, burning up like a heater, so much so it lulled you to sleep. This was the first time he laid here as human and despite the change being weird it wasn't entirely unpleasant.

Namjoon reached to grab the book you were in the middle of getting through.

"You don't mind, do you?" he asked with a nervous tint.

"Knock yourself out. I can't see anyway."

"Then I'll read to you."

Listening to Namjoon reading was a calming experience. His deep voice was soothing and he seemed to know every word than any writer had ever come up with. It wasn't long before you were practically drooling into the pillowcase. When he tentatively reached to stroke your head, you didn't stir keeping the moment in your memory like a fly encased in amber.

To say that returning back home, well to the city that is, your city, felt strange was an severe understatement. Onsilvaekst truly was like an entirely different world, like a strip torn out of an abandoned fantasy. Streetlights, rushing, screaming and advertisements rained down upon you so hard, it was almost overpowering. For the first time since moving you found your heart pulled backwards, back to the humid forests, shattered glasshouses and a kind hybrid who'd broken into your life and endearingly refused to leave.

Namjoon wouldn't like the city. For a hybrid such as him the hectic life would oftentimes induce a sensory overload. He was used to quiet, to vast skies and greenery not concrete jungle and yellow discount signs. He belonged in the old, wilden world of nature unrestrained.

As you wandered through the streets to the optical clinic, you considered what was it that you were actually losing - some cafes, festivals? Not that much. Far below gaining a genuine connection. Maybe moving to Onsilvaeskt should be considered a longer term decision.

"Quite a while since you've been with us," the doctor noted whole inspecting your eyes.

"Yeah...haven't had the time," you lied.

"Which one is clearer the red or the green?"

The proto glasses on your face, a veritable torture device, were tearing your head off and also those two circles were the same.

"Re-green."

"Are you sure?"

"No."

"Okay, this one?"

"To the left. Wait is this one left?" you waved to your right.

The doctor pursed her lips.

"No."

You sat, trying to physically squeeze the pain out of your gums whilst the frames and the lenses were made. The loan for something that you needed to survive already was tucked in a golder to be sent to correlating authorities. You couldn't help but wander what Namjoon was doing. Was he tending the ruined garden - tired but determined for it to flourish once more? Or, God forbid, was he in the kitchen trying to make a cup of tea and setting something on fire? You do hoped it was not the latter.

He's not a child, you scolded yourself, he'll do fine.

"Here you go," your new glasses were stretched out and eagerly you put them on your face, keen to see the world again only...only even with the glasses the haze remained. It took a while, a long while for your vision to clear up. And even then it fluctuated between muddy and clear.

"With my eyesight...is it possible to go blind over time?"

"It's possible. Macular degeneration is not uncommon per se but it occurs to people over fifty."

"Is there anything else?"

"Oh, a lot of things. Cataracts, glaucoma."

"What about cancer?"

She paused and you clenched your palms in a fist, head threatening to rupture in on itself.

"It's possible if a brain tumor presses hard enough on the optic nerve," she explained slowly. "If you believe there is something wrong there is no harm in doing a checkup but knowing your family history it's most likely just genetics."

You thanked her numbly and left, head submerged somewhere between rain clouds and gravel underneath. Service dogs could smell oncoming seizures and illnesses before any official diagnoses. Something internal had changed in your body and it must be something given how adamant Namjoon was. But you felt fine! The spotty vision and itchy gums were the only giveaways out of norm but those were minuscule, right? And yet how many people thought they were fine until they weren't?

Namjoon was exceedingly slow to pick up the phone. You almost assumed he was out but after many persistent rings to your home office phone, there came a hesitant -

"Hello?"

"It's just me," an immediate sigh of relief could be heard. "Listen, I'm going to stay just a day longer, alright?"

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just...just going to go do a checkup so you would stop pestering," you joked flatly hoping he'd buy the lightheartedness in your tone.

"Okay. You've eaten anything?"

A black jeep barely managed to halt before plowing you down right in the middle of the crossing.

"Hey, asshole, watch the fucking road!" you cursed but the car swerved past, leaving you in the dust.

"Hey! What happened?!" Namjoon called out whilst you scoffed at the speeding car.

"Nothing," you groused. "Just some people shouldn't have a licence."

"Abnormalities?" you echoed faintly as the doctor scheduled you for a CAT scan.

"Yes, abnormal growths leading your bite to be uneven. It seems something is pushing your teeth back which is why your gums are itching."

"I'm...teething?"

Your doctor tapped the pencil to her forehead, deep in thought.

"It's not usual for a human to develop new frontal teeth in adulthood. It's really hard to say without an x-ray. It could be hyperdonia but I don't know...it doesn't seem like it. The condition itself is rare so at this stage it's best not to prematurely assume anything."

"Can growing extra teeth cause vision loss?"

"There is a Nance-Horan syndrome which does affect both teeth and eyes but it's genetic. If you don't have a history of it in your family there's no way you should have it."

"I don't know my father's side," you told her quietly, rooted into the seat, gaze locked on your lap.

She smiled at you understandingly.

"The CAT scan is in three days. Let's see what shows up there and then we can decide what to do, alright?"

You nodded.

The walk to the central train station was a blur. It wasn't lethal, some of these illnesses that were named as the potential cause, still the knowledge that something was wrong sat heavy upon your shoulders. You thought you'd remain numb all the way home if not for the man staring at you. He was large and burly, and quite frankly unsettled you quite a bit. He tried to be inconspicuous but from the corner of your eye you saw him narrow you down every other minute. You moved - he moved. Your palms began to sweat as you gripped the railing of the public bus. The doors to a stop opened and you thought maybe to run out, to lose him that way but it was dashed out when another two men stepped in. They crossed gazes, seemingly surreptitious, but in your gut you knew they knew each other and for some reason they were fixating on you.

Calm down, calm down, calm down, rung in your head on a repeat. Could you scream? Go to the police?

These were not ordinary drunks though. They moved in a coordinated fashion and to you reminded more of marines than a group of thugs. When the doors opened next your legs trembled but you forced yourself to appear absolutely still as though you had no intention at all to get off this dammed bus. Yet when the beep came, signalling they're about to close you bolted through. You ran without looking back but in the general direction of the main street where people were promised to be. Still you heard someone chasing you. At least one of them had managed to squeeze through anyway. Your lungs burned and your heart was giving out the longer you ran and when you slowed down enough, he simply punted you to the ground. It didn't matter that there were people around, you both tousled and before anyone could move to your aid, he grabbed you away, into much quieter side alleys. Your head met the brick wall with a solid thud as he squeezed a hand over your neck so hard you thought in fright he'd break it.

"Where is he?" he asked absolutely calm if not slightly contemptuous whilst without a doubt killing you. Air run out quickly and the only sound you heard was the rushing of your own blood in your ears. You clawed and kicked but it didn't do much damage.

"I'm going to ask just one more time where is the hybrid?"

From the depths of your consciousness that single question pulled all the spite you had ever possessed.

"Fuck you," you whispered back and in a flash of ingenious logic and common sense you leaned down just enough to bite into his wrist.

You sunk your teeth deeply, far more deeper than an instinct allowed and he screamed in pain but proceeded to slap you across the face anyway. You already assumed he'd kick you, beat you to death in this small, dirty side street but then a growl rang through the air and something bright flashed past.

You'd never seen Namjoon this enraged, wolf form or otherwise. The man who a second ago seemed like a giant to you was positively dwarfed as Namjoon stalked him into the corner. His teeth were exposed and continuous snarls fell out of his mouth. The man reached for something by his ankle - a knife, a gun! But then be crumpled into himself. Drool began to seep out of his mouth as he visibly became disorientated. You both watched dumbfounded how he tossed to and fro from the side as though inebriated before he fell down and moved no more.

Namjoon was first one to move, cautiously prodding him with his snout but if the open, speechless mouth was any indication this man was truly dead.

"Thank you," you choked back a sob, reaching out to hug him but he flinched back which nearly made you burst into full blown belated panic attack. Tentatively sniffing the air around you, he at last pushed you to stand to the wall, turned away from the corpse. Wet, squelching and breaking sounds followed and you gagged hearing them. He was shifting.

"You can turn around," Namjoon's quiet voice soothed you. He was naked, of course, but instead you focused on the dead stranger.

"Wh-Why would he just drop dead?" you asked, trembling from head to toe.

"It was you," he cautiously explained, reaching out to hold your hand while pointing at the bleeding bite mark on the man's wrist.

"What?"

"______________, I...I think you might be a hybrid."

previous | next

© sor-vette, 2022

[ficcsjuseyo]

Oh sht! 👀

[telephaaty]

Exiled: What is she? ✧Chapter 3✧

(Photos retrieved from Pinterest. Credit to whom it may belong. Edit made by me.)

Previous < Masterlist > Next

Genres: Fantasy, Supernatural, Werewolf! AU, angst, hurt, fluff

Series rating: Mature

Summary: I have spent half my life in exile. I woke up in the middle of the forest with no memories. I don't know who I am, how I ended up like this, I don't know if someone is looking for me or even if I have a family. The only thing I know for sure is that I must hide and that when the full moon is at its highest, disaster begins.

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Author's note: I'm back. Sorry for not updating earlier. I had been with final exams and started the new semester at the university. I'm still trying to catch up on the subjects 🤭 I'm not very happy with this chapter that has been in editing since the end of February, it didn't turn out as I thought but here is chapter 3. I hope you enjoy it!!

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When I woke up in the middle of the forest, a little over 10 years ago, the sun was at its best. The singing of the birds was the only thing that broke the tranquility of the forest and the fresh breeze that rose had made me shiver.

I got up from where I was lying on the floor. I looked at my clothes and hands which were dirty with mud and what appeared to be dried blood. I didn't know what had happened to me, I couldn't remember anything or how I had gotten there. I should have been scared but the only thing I felt was an immense relief as if a great weight had been lifted from me as if I was finally free.

I remember searching the place for any sign of where it might be, but I didn't recognize anything. I didn't worry, I kept walking until I found a river where I could wash. I looked at my reflection in the water, I could tell that something had changed in me but I didn't know what.

Suddenly I was on alert, I could feel the danger and the adrenaline running through my body. I stood up and started running, I had to escape, hide. I knew that this was the only way to survive. To what? I don't know, but I had to if I wanted my freedom.

That same survival instinct is kicking in right now. If these werewolves could smell my moods, they'd be more nervous than they are. My anxiety is at a level that even I can't stand, but externally I am alert, one step away from running for my life.

I observe and analyze each of the wolves, there are twelve in total: nine in animal form and three in their human form, all alphas. None took their eyes off me, when I took another step back they all growled and some threatened to pounce. I stayed still, on alert, watching Taehyung, who had his back turned, looking at each other with a boy who exuded great power, he was tall, with brown hair and broad shoulders, he held a sword and his eyes had a particular shine. They were communicating through their mental link. And it was there that I knew it was not a good idea to accompany him.

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Royal Pack - Castle

SeokJin's POV

It had been three days since we were not known where is Taehyung, three days since Yoongi was not taking his medications and was about to lose control, three days since Namjoon was unbearable, three days since my parents went on trips, quiet trusting us with the pack and the kingdom, and everything was going down the drain.

As the eldest of my brothers and future king, I had to keep calm and think cold, not let myself be carried away by emotions or instincts, although when it comes to Taehyung, it is a bit difficult. Luckily, I had Hoseok by my side to help me stay focused. Indeed, I was with him when I was informed of intruders approaching the northern border of the pack and that possibly one of them could be Taehyung.

When we arrived at the border with Hoseok, it was indeed Taehyung, he was standing in our territory with clothes that were not his, nor his style, he gave me a slight smile, but I could see sadness in his eyes. Something had happened to him, it was clear. I wanted to hug him and tell him that he was safe, but I had to appear neutral. I looked him straight in the eyes and spoke to him through the mental link:

-What happened?! Where were you, Taehyung?! Do you know how worried we were?!

-Hyung! Something happened, I…

He was unable to finish because grunting could be heard from the members of the barracks on duty. It was there that I realized the girl who was on the side of the free border.

-Who is she?

-OH! She helped me and healed my wounds. Now we must help her.

A gleam of happiness appeared in Taehyung's eyes as he remembered that the girl was there. I couldn't continue asking him because he turned around and walked over to her.

“Come on, it's time to repay your kindness,” Taehyung said, holding his arm out for her to take.

"Needless. Also, I don't think it's a good idea to enter your territory”, said the girl looking alertly at the guards.

There was something about her that caught my attention, I didn't know if it was her lack of scent, why she helped Taehyung, or my little brother's sudden interest in this girl. If there is something that characterizes Taehyung it is his lack of interest in people, as he says, very few people deserve his attention and this girl just caught him.

"But you said Ji-"

“You're allowed to pass,” I said, interrupting Taehyung. I needed to know what happened and who this girl was. Namjoon would probably scream to the heavens and call me reckless, but he's not here to discuss it.

With Namjoon we had reached the agreement that, he as the future pack leader and I as the future king, we should talk and resolve situations together and without making a decision without the other knowing. But I'm still the eldest, so I can make this decision without consulting him.

The girl looked at Taehyung not knowing what to do. She knew she couldn't trespass on pack grounds, how did she know, I don't know. Very few humans know of our true existence and those who know prefer to stay on the sidelines, knowing that it suits them.

“Come on, you heard Hyung. It's ok for you to pass"

Taehyung's smile when the girl accepted her hand was amazing. I have never seen such a genuine smile from him towards anyone other than his brothers and close friends. I exchanged glances with Hoseok who was on my left, we were both thinking the same thing. I told him over the link to go tell Yoongi and Namjoon that Tae was back and to warn them that he brought company. I then turned to my right and told Wonho, the general of our army, to have the guards withdraw and only him and two others remain as escorts.

The girl crossed the trunk that delimited the herd and was approaching where I was. When she was a safe distance away, I could smell a faint scent of rancid peach, a scent that could only belong to an omega but was not her aroma.

“I am the crown prince of the Royal Pack, Kim SeokJin,” I introduced myself. “I would like to know the name of the person who helped my brother”, I gave her a courteous and studied smile.

She looked at Taehyung in surprise. Apparently, she didn't know that he was a prince. Taehyung laughed sheepishly, I cleared my throat trying to get his attention, realizing the girl wasn't going to answer me.

"Oh yeah! Emm…she doesn't have a name”, now it was my turn to look at him in surprise. “She lives in free territory, near the northern human village, with her… friend?” Taehyung said hesitantly. "Well it's an omega she found a couple of years ago and he's seriously ill, very ill."

"And where is the omega now?" I asked the girl.

“He's in our… home,” she said, looking me in the eye without showing a hint of respect for a prince, an alpha. This will be a problem.

"Okay," I said, turning around, "let's go back to the castle and we can talk better about this whole situation."

I started walking, leading the way with Wonho on my left, and Taehyung and the girl on my right, a bit further back. Taehyung was still holding her hand and I'd like to believe that she was still holding him for her comfort, but I had a feeling that she was holding him to her advantage. If I did something against her, she would attack my brother. I looked at her out of the corner of my eye and she was looking in my direction, alert. She was cautious, I didn't blame her, but we couldn't trust her either.

-There's something else Hyung.

Tae told me through the link. I wanted to look at him, but that might get the girl's attention.

-What is?

-I think she's not fully human. She saw the healthy forest.

Damn. Namjoon won't like this and I'm already listening to his speech.

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Girl's POV

I definitely shouldn't have helped this beta. Why do I never listen to Joohyuk?

I shouldn't have trusted Taehyung, he lied to me, he always knew where he was, he was never lost or disoriented. I let myself be convinced and he brought me straight to the mouth of the wolf, and not just any mouth but that of the most important pack of all. I'm glad to hear that Jisung didn't come with me.

I couldn't run away and they weren't going to let me go that easily. So I find myself following the crown prince, who never put away his sword. All this gave me a very bad feeling and my only chance to continue surviving, it is holding my hand, so I am holding on to it.

We were reaching the end of the forest, when Taehyung speaks to me:

"Don't worry everything will be fine. No one is going to hurt you”, he gave me a sincere smile and squeezed my hand. He didn't look like the same guy I met a few days ago, he seemed more confident and sure of himself.

We came out of the forest onto an asphalt road that led to a castle. There were guards at the gate, who opened the bars when they saw us arrive. There was a long path to the castle and in the middle of it, there was a boy, apparently the same age as the prince, who kept pacing back and forth.

“Tae”, the prince called and nodded towards the boy on the road. Taehyung seeing where he is pointing, let go of my hand and ran away. Well, there goes my ticket life.

Recognizing that Taehyung was heading in his direction, the boy ran to close the distance and hugged him as if his life depended on it. The anguish and anxiety that filled the air when we arrived, was transformed into relief.

"He's his ma-"

"It's his brother," the prince interrupted me and I nodded my head in understanding.

“Well since I'm done with bringing Taehyung safely, it's time to go. You don't need to reward anything,” I said trying to back up and walk away.

“Don't move!”, he ordered me and I obeyed, only because I was at a disadvantage and not because I wanted to. “First, he is Prince Taehyung, and second, there are many things we need to talk about. Also, my brother wants to help you and he is very stubborn, so if you leave, he is going to look for you, he knows where you live”.

When I was about to argue with him, I started to smell a strong scent of mint. I noticed how the boy who was with Taehyung was coming furiously in our direction. Oh cool, another alpha. I instinctively wanted to run, but I tried to control myself and just hid behind Prince Seokjin for a bit.

“YOU!” he yells and points at me. "What have you done to my brother?"

Taehyung tried to calm him down as he tugged on his arm. The prince blocked his path, preventing him from lunging at me.

"Yoongi, calm down," he said, putting his sword back in his sheath at last.

"Calm me down?!" Said Yoongi in disbelief and furious. “What did she do to Taehyung? How do you let her into the pack? You should have cut her head off as soon as you saw her.”

“Hyyuung!” Taehyung whined. "I told you she didn't do anything to me."

“Yoongi, you need to control yourself, okay?”, The prince said as he released pheromones to calm him down, his scent of berries became sweeter, so much so that it started to itch my nose and I began to rub it.

When I realized Taehyung was giving me a curious look, I decided to stop and turned my attention back to the brothers.

“Listen, she helped Tae, okay? And she is here to tell us what happened,” continued the prince.

“And to return the favor for her,” Tae added.

Yoongi was calmer, but he continued to glare at me. If looks could kill, I'm pretty sure I'd be 100 feet under.

"Well then, let's go to Namjoon who is surely waiting for us so we can solve this quickly," said the prince, starting off to walk.

That leaves me exposed to certain death or a chance to continue living. Then, Taehyung offers me his hand, which I take hesitantly as I notice Yoongi's gaze on our hands.

Ok, apparently I just signed my death.

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“So… you're telling me that you found Prince Taehyung injured, deep in the forest in the free zone, you took him to your… place and healed his wounds, it took you two days to bring him and you didn't find any clue of who could I have hurt him?” said Prince Namjoon, trying to find any contradiction in my story.

And here I am, sitting in the living room of the royal pack, being interrogated by a guy who looks more like a mobster, like those described in the books I usually read on my shift at the library, than a future alpha leader. Sitting in front of me in a single armchair with one leg on top of the other, playing with the rings on his hands and dressed in a tight black long-sleeved shirt, dress pants of the same color and matching patent leather shoes; Prince Namjoon has been questioning me about how I found Taehyung for the last 20 minutes. He keeps asking the same rephrased questions to see if I say something wrong.

"For the umpteenth time, yes," I sighed, leaning back against the back of the couch where I was sitting. "If there was something that would help to know who hurt him, an object, garment, or smell, I would tell you, but I found nothing."

I could feel the eyes of everyone in the room when I mentioned the smell. The mobster guy looked at princes Seokjin and Yoongi, who gave him a nod and continued to question me.

"Okay. You said that you found the omega a couple of years ago and here Prince Taehyung said that he is seriously ill. Could you explain to us where and how you found it?” Now he stood with his elbows on the armrests and his hands clasped, staring into my eyes as if trying to see into my soul.

"I don't think that's necessary, I just wanted to bring-"

"Answer," he orders almost growling. This is why I can't stand alphas, they are always growling and ordering.

I rolled my eyes, showing him that his attitude had no effect on me, and went on to answer the question.

“I found him about two years ago, just outside the Dawn Pack, near one of the human villages. He was unconscious, he had a wound on his neck that would not stop bleeding. I helped him, healed the wound as best I can and took care of him until he gets better. Later, he explained to me that it was a broken mating mark and that his family despised him because he was disgraced.”

"If so, you know he shouldn't be alive, right?" said the mobster who didn't believe what I was saying.

"Apparently that's what everyone says," I shrugged.

“You also mentioned that you have been living in exile for a long time”, Prince Seokjin took the word as he walked towards the armchair where the mafia prince was. “How long exactly have you been living alone and why?”

At what point did this turn on me?! Now I really wanted to run, but to my luck, the big guy who seems to be the general of the pack was blocking the only exit I know. So the only thing left for me to do was answer.

“Um… about ten years, I think. And I don't know why, I just know that one day I woke up in the woods alone and just tried to survive on my own”, I said avoiding eye contact and looking instead at the table in the middle of the room, the which had a beautiful arrangement of flowers that when they felt my presence seemed to bloom again. I prayed no one had noticed that.

“Tell us what your name is?” Prince Namjoon asked again.

"I already told you I don't kn-"

“Marian!” Taehyung exclaimed with a smile. "Her name is Marian."

I don't know when he gave me a name, but no one in the room seemed happy about it. The tension I began to feel from Princes Seokjin and Namjoon, and even from the general, were overshadowed by the strong smell of mint coming from Prince Yoongi.

“Why do you call her that?!” Yoongi said, angrily standing up from the double couch where he was sitting to my left.

“She has a Marian face and she is very pretty”, Taehyung shrugged, while I looked at him as if he had grown another head, for that statement.

The strong smell of mint, mixed with those of sweet blackberries and bitter chocolate that sought to convey tranquility, was about to knock me out. I wasn't used to so many strong scents let alone werewolves, another reason why I can't stand alphas. As I tried to recover and not pass out, I can hear Prince Seokjin asking where Hoseok was when he was needed.

“We won't call her that, Taehyung,” Yoongi determined with a growl.

"Well, don't call her that if you don't want to, I'll do it," Tae concluded, he shrugged his shoulders and looked at his nails.

"Enough," Namjoon said raising and deepening the tone of his voice. This time I do take a reaction from me. I was startled and the brothers calmed down automatically. “Now, let's go to the office, we need to discuss this. Taehyung, you stay here with her.”

Tae nodded and sat down next to me, asking if he wanted something to drink and eat as I watched as the three alphas disappeared through the door and headed down a hallway. I wasn't liking the way this was going and I was beginning to suspect that Taehyung planned for me to be here.

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I was drinking orange juice, while Taehyung was talking about the sudden change in weather when I could smell the alphas approaching.

"Okay. Let's clear something up”, said Namjoon, returning to take a position on the couch. "You're not human, we already found out, so stop pretending."

I put the glass on the table and was about to answer him, but he raised his hand in a sign not to speak.

"We respect the omegas a lot and we see the obligation to take care of them, and the situation in which your friend is it is truly unique, so we will accept him in the pack", the prince paused, analyzing me and waiting for a reaction, but I didn't I knew how to feel about it. “But you will also stay with us. We have noticed that you have attitudes that are not common in humans, not to mention that we do not perceive any type of aroma in you, which is quite strange. Not many beings have the ability to hide their scent."

“And there are few, too, who can survive so many years alone,” added Prince SeokJin. “You have spent 10 years living in exile and have not shown even a sign of losing your sanity. That's why we came to the decision to temporarily accept you into the pack unt-"

"YES!" Taehyung shouted happily.

"Until," continued the prince ignoring the beta, "our father, the Alpha King, comes back and decides what to do."

I looked at the three alphas, searching for something to tell me that what they were saying was a joke, and then I looked at Tae, who had a mega smile, waiting for me to say something.

“N-no d-do”, I cleared my throat, trying to hide my nervousness, “you don't have to do that. I'm not interested, honestly. I'm fine on my own, but I'm thankful that they accept Jisung. He needs it”.

“I think you misunderstood us,” Namjoon said, getting up from his place. I could feel the beta getting nervous from the change in atmosphere and he got closer to me. “We didn't ask you. You entered our territory THROUGH ONE OF THE BORDERS, and not through the main entrance. That makes you an intruder."

"What?! Is this a joke?!” I said in disbelief, standing up. “I was allowed to pass. Prince SeokJin gave me his permission, and Taehyung said it's fine that I will pass.”

"HAHA!", a sinic laugh was present. “Taehyung knew if you walked in there, it was going to be your doom,” Yoongi said giving me a sinister smile. “If he had wanted you to come in through the main entrance, he would have told you. But apparently, he had other intentions.”

Feeling betrayed, I looked at Taehyung who was keeping his head down, playing with his fingers. I saved his life and he set me up. I believed him when he told me that no one was going to hurt me. In the back of my head, Joohyuk's “I told you so” was already playing. He warned me and I got angry.

“You only have two options, little girl. Either you agree to temporarily join the pack or…” Namjoon was looking at me intently, again, trying to look past me. “Or you will be executed for entering from the borders,” he concluded.

"This isn't fair," I whispered.

“Nothing is fair in this life, silly girl. So make a quick decision that we don't have all day”, Yoongi spoke as he rested her elbow on the armrest of the chair and rested his head on his hand.

I had worked hard to keep myself hidden, out of trouble, out of packs involvement, and in less than a day it was all going off the rails. I had let myself be fooled by a wounded beta and here I am being forced to stay or die. I just wanted a new safe home for Jisung, I never thought or wanted to belong to a pack.

I knew Jisung wasn't going anywhere without me. What would it be worth if I didn't stay and die if he didn't want to come here alone? All this time trying to keep him alive, all this time fighting to survive, would be in vain. Die at the hands of some cocky alphas? I refuse. So I have to make a decision where we're both safe.

"Okay," I said looking defiantly at Namjoon. "I'll stay".

"Good. I'll send one of my men to go find the omega, so giv-"

"Do not. I'll go find it myself. He will be scared if people he doesn't know come looking for him."

"How do we know you won't run away when you get the chance?" Prince Seokjin asked.

"Prince Taehyung knows where I live," I said looking at Taehyung who gave me an apologetic look. "I'll be back before midnight," I told them. Namjoon walked towards me and stopped less than a foot away, a head and a half taller than me. He looked at me from above and the smell of bitter chocolate intensified, he was trying to show who was boss, he looked at me for a few more seconds and continued to speak.

“By 9:00 p.m. I want you here. Otherwise we will go to look for you and we will charge your offense”.

And with that, he left the room. I stayed a couple of minutes processing everything and watching as the other two alphas also left the room. What had I gotten myself into?! I looked at Taehyung, who was still sitting, I wanted to tell him so many things but he was already risking my life. If I dared to say or do anything to him, in his own home, near where his overprotective brothers were, I was only going to hasten my death. I'll take care of it later.

When I noticed that Taehyung was about to say something to me, I decided to leave. I stormed out the front door so fast and furious that I almost ran into a guy. He was surprised at me too and backed away, more than necessary I'd say. The boy was tall, had short straight hair, dark brown, his eyes were medium and round, a little slanted; he was wearing a white long-sleeved shirt and jogging pants. And he was soaking wet? That's when I realized that it was raining.

We stood there looking at each other for what were a few seconds. His gaze reflected surprise and alertness, you can see how he began to wrinkle his nose, trying to sniff out some aroma. I couldn't smell anything on it because the fury and the sudden rain wouldn't let me. So I resumed my march and headed towards Joohyuk's house. Another cocky overprotective who will give a shout in the sky with the new news.

©2021 Telephaaty. All rights reserved

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If you want to be part of the tag list, let me know😊 Also, I tell you that I intend to make mini-chapters with certain scenes that don't appear in the chapters like what happened to Taehyung or the alphas brothers' meeting. Also, I'll try to make the chapters a bit shorter, in this way I can post once a week.

Good weekend!👋

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🌕 Taglist 🌕

@zae007live @mayla548

[rmstdio-deactivated20230427]

ameliorate, i | bts

▬ synopsis. juggling a dysfunctional family, emotional trauma and responsibilities you never wanted in the first place, seven hybrids being thrust into your care was the last thing you needed. or was it?

▬ pairing. hybrid!bts x human!reader

▬ genre. hybrid au • hurt/comfort | angst + fluff + smut

▬ length. 3.3k words

▬ warnings. rated M | profanity • crying • mentions of terminal illnesses and funerals • minor character death

You opened your eyes to a dimly lit room, dark drapes shielding the light from the windows. You squint, dry mouth sticky with the bitter aftertaste of alcohol as you struggle to remember how you had ended up where you were. With a slight movement of your leg, the telltale sound of whiskey bottles clinking confirmed your suspicions of the fact that you had drunk yourself to unconsciousness for the fourth time that week.

The ache between your brows only worsened when you stood up; your skull feeling like it was being torn open from how severe the pain was.

“God fucking damn it.” You croaked, fingers burrowing into your filthy hair as you pushed down on the sore spots in the hopes of alleviating some of the discomfort. You trudged into your en-suite bathroom and grabbed your toothbrush, bleary eyes falling on your reflection in the large mirror.

Your eyes were lifeless. Pale skin, cracked lips, and eyebags that were so dark you were reminded of raccoons. You felt like nothing but a shell of who you used to be.

Just as you spat out the paste, you heard your phone beep with incoming texts. You let out a sigh. There were only a handful of people who could text you today at this time; all of which had a very annoying texting pattern (in which they would continue to spam you until you’d respond). A part of you wanted to ignore the noise but the silence afterward made you frown in confusion. Your bare feet padded against the wooden floors as you wiped your face and made your way back to your main room, pulling the empty bottles, sheets and pillows off in search of your phone.

The brightness made you cringe while you typed in your password and opened the messenger app.

Unknown [1:20 pm]

Good Afternoon Y/N This is Park Ji-hyuk, Mr. Yang’s trust attorney I hope you’ll be making it to the funeral as there is something I was hoping to discuss with you

Your jaw involuntarily clenched at the reminder. Typing a quick ‘I’ll see you there’, you tossed your phone back into the messy bed. Hearing it again only made the news even more real.

Mr. Yang was gone. And he wasn’t coming back.

Just like when you had first heard the news, you heard the blood rush to your ears, tears blurring your vision. Despite the countless deep breaths you took, you couldn’t help the few that rolled down your cheeks. You had put up the perfect front before the world when the news hit the stations, but sitting in the darkness of your room you felt the façade you’d built up dissipate into nothing.

Your bottom lip quivered, shoulders dropping in resignation. The striking pain in your chest intensified the anger and frustration you were feeling. Why did everything you care about always end up ripped away from your grasp in the most painful ways?

In the two years you had spent in Seoul, Jinsun had become the closest thing to a father figure you’d ever had. From teaching you how to drive a sports car, to joining you in horseback riding lessons. He had made every single day of yours both inside and outside of work special. You were not used to spending so much time outside of home and there were times you felt your social battery run out, but you kept the smile on your face, savoring every fun activity he would plan for the two of you.

You were surprised to find out that he had no children. He would make the most amazing father and grandparent - you were sure of it. You’d often make jokes about how you wanted him to adopt you, or how you dreamt of him walking you down the aisle; oblivious to the soft yet sad look in his eyes while he patted your head and agreed with your words.

Looking back, you wanted to hit yourself for not noticing the small signs sooner. You were angry for dismissing the impromptu days off he would take and the numerous pills you’d seen him having. You naively believed him when he told you they were vitamins or painkillers.

It wasn’t until two weeks ago when he didn’t show up to work for the fourth consecutive day that his secretary informed you that he had passed.

Washing your face in the bathroom sink, you popped open the lid of your crusty foundation and used as much as you could to conceal the blotchiness and dark circles on your face. The press will be present today and there was a huge chance your mother would be watching as well.

Throwing on the black clothing your assistant had ordered for this occasion, you slipped into your black heels and made way downstairs to your empty kitchen. Pulling open the refrigerator door, you were greeted by a gust of cold wind and the sight of five nearly empty shelves.

An involuntary chuckle left your lips at the sudden memory that hit you of how he would always complain about your fridge being empty. You remembered the scowl he would have on his face when he’d lecture you about the importance of healthy breakfasts while cooking for you made tears spring in your waterline once more. Slamming the door shut, you took a deep breath and began rummaging through your cabinets for the medicine box. That should have to do for now.

Dry swallowing an aspirin, you sent a quick text to your driver. You switched the television on to drown out the silence. Idly flipping through a couple of channels, you stopped at the local news.

“… dangerous hybrid put down after owner was found with scratch marks across their face …”

You couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly as an image of a scared hamster hybrid crossed the screen. Nothing about her screamed dangerous at all and you were more than positive she wasn’t feral, but there was nothing she or anyone could do to defend her.

It was unfair how hybrids always got the short end of the stick in any situation, only because humans were their creators.

Over two centuries ago, American scientists decided to fuse the stem cells of humans with those of pigs and sheep to create hybrid embryos. When the public caught wind of the experimentation, it warranted various reactions from people around the world, which led to the creators admitting the embryos were created to try and find new ways to produce organs for people who needed transplants.

Though their research raised a variety of concerns, the first generation of hybrids ― the alpha generation, which consisted of only pig and rat hybrids, were highly unstable and had short lifespans. With continuous experimentation funded by their government, the eighth generation (branching out to over 200 different breeds of predator and prey DNA used) ended up becoming successful in creating the perfect mix of animal and human genes.

At first, hybrids were highly expensive and were only used for scientific and military purposes, but were later introduced to the public for use in the late 1900s. But no matter what application or situation hybrids were put in, they had one purpose only - to serve humans.

You were snapped out of your reverie by the sound of a car pulling up into your driveway. Quickly grabbing your phone and purse, you made your way out of your front door and down the stairs of your patio towards the white limousine waiting for you. You wordlessly slipped into the backseat and shut the door, the car smoothly navigating out of the circular driveway.

The drive to Hannam Cemetery was mostly silent, save for the radio playing a news channel. Christina, your secretary was silent next to you. You were too lost in your own thoughts to notice the hesitant glances she subtly gave you.

“You still smell like alcohol.” She muttered after a while, wincing at her own words. She had stood past you silently these past two years observing how your initially meek personality had blossomed into something much more confident and outgoing than you once were. “Haven’t you showered today?”

“I’ll do it once we get back.” You replied, tone as dead as you felt. You didn’t bat an eyelash when she pulled out a small bottle of perfume and sprayed it in the crook of your neck.

“…I’m sorry for your loss.” She sighed after a moment of silence, not knowing how to comfort you. Although the two of you weren’t close, she could see the pain reflecting off your eyes. You looked… broken, and it unnerved her.

“Thank you.” You mumbled, glancing at her for a moment.

The first thing you noticed when your car rolled into the burial place was the large throng of photographers flashing their cameras at all the high-profile people that walked through the door. You sighed, glancing at yourself on the dark screen of your phone as you mentally prepared yourself to do the same.

The funeral was a closed casket one. In spite of the fact that a part of you wished you could see him one last time, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to control yourself had you seen him in such a state.

You were too shaken throughout the entire process that time itself seemed like such a blur to you. It was only when you felt a hand tap your shoulder at the funeral reception did the rational part of your brain awaken.

You frowned at the unknown face. “Yes?”

The man smiled, bowing slightly. “It’s nice to finally meet you Miss Y/L/N. I am Park Ji-hyuk. We spoke on the phone.”

“Oh. Right.” You cleared your throat. “What was it you wanted to speak to me about?”

He looked around nervously. “I think this is a conversation we should have in a more private setting. If you will?” Ji-hyuk asked, gesturing down the halls, towards one of the free rooms. You nodded, following him down to the empty dining area.

“So, a couple of months before Mr. Yang passed, he had spoken to me about a couple of things involving you.” He said, zipping open the small bag he was holding. “So forgive me if I speak out of order, I feel like I know a lot about you despite it being our first meeting.”

“What did he say regarding me?” You mumbled, confused.

“He talked about how close you two were, especially since he knew his death was imminent and that it would be hard for you to cope,” Ji-hyuk said. “Jinsun wanted everyone, mainly you to remember him as he was; which is why very few people knew about his illness.”

“Coming to the point, he knew the news of his death would hit you hardest particularly because he was closest to you and considered you his own family.” He sighed, pulling out a thick manila folder and reluctantly handing it over to you. “So he asked me to give you this only after his death.”

Your mind reeled with thoughts of what the folder could contain as your shaking fingers grasped the binder. Your breath hitched when you flipped the cover open, gaze falling on a… profile?

“What is this?” You gasped, eyes wide. You recognized Mr. Yang’s signature at the bottom of the pages. It wasn’t until you saw the receipt at the end that everything clicked.

“Adoption papers.” He stated, echoing your thoughts. “For five hybrids.”

.

.

.

“Are you okay?”

You gasped, head snapping to the source of the voice so fast it almost gave you whiplash. A nervous smile tugged at your lips upon coming face to face with your assistant. “Christina. Hi.”

“Er… hello.” She frowned, glancing around the room. “We have a meeting with the investors and the new chairman in five minutes. I’ve been calling you for a while, but you seem kind of… troubled. Is everything okay?”

“Yes!” You replied, voice uncharacteristically high. “Everything’s absolutely fine!”

She nodded reluctantly. “A-Alright.”

“Come on.” You picked up your files. “Let’s go before we get late. Don’t want to keep them waiting.” Practically barreling past her, your heels clacked against the marble floors as you made your way out of your office and towards the large conference room on the floor below yours.

Ever since Park Ji-hyuk had given you the news about Mr. Yang adopting hybrids for you, the nervous feeling in your gut hadn’t subsided. How were you supposed to take care of them without anybody finding out? You were aware of the fact that if your mother catches wind of you owning five hybrids, she wouldn’t be pleased. Though she owned two of her own, she viewed them as nothing but shiny accessories. You knew nothing about them except their call names: RM and JK, and you doubted your mother knew either.

In spite of Christine seeming like a trustworthy person from how she’d treat you, at the end of the day she was still hired by your mother. So requesting her for help was out of the question. You couldn’t openly tell her to keep her mouth shut either. The Lord knows how she would react to something like that.

Albeit knowing Jinsun would never put together a settlement that would harm you in any way, you couldn’t help but question his motives behind making such a decision on your behalf. Especially since it had been doing more harm to you than good from the moment you found out about it.

“Good evening Director Y/L/N.”

“Good evening Chairman Hong.” You bowed. “Congratulations on the promotion.”

The man nodded politely, resuming his seat on the right side of the large oval table. You did a quick scan of the room, finding it filled with advocates from both companies - most of which you didn’t recognize. Taking a seat at the end of the table, you smiled, opting to ignore your problems for now and immerse yourself in work - hoping everything will sort itself out in due time.

.

.

.

Spoiler alert: you were wrong.

It was a week later when you were at work and received a call from your head houseworker; informing you of a “package” that had been delivered at your doorstep.

“Just take them in and do not say a word to anyone!” You hissed over the phone, ignoring the confused looks the designers in your office gave you. Your panicked gaze fell on your workers as you tried your best to smooth out your features, plastering a smile on your face.

You cleared your throat. “These are the designs I want approved by their style team by tomorrow.” Messily placing your signature on the bottom of the page, you handed the manila folder over to the representatives. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m clocking out early. I have some work that needs to be done. Tell Mrs. Shin to take over for me.”

You threw on your coat, dismissing them before shuffling through your desk for their portfolios. They had been locked away in panic from when you first collected them. To be honest, you weren’t even completely sure which ones were arriving today.

Ignoring the questioning looks you received while practically sprinting out of the building, you made your way into the waiting car and flipped open the thin booklets, scanning though its contents.

There were a lot of things you didn’t understand from the lengthy profiles except for a couple of mentions. From the receipt and shipment fee you noted that three out of five were arriving today; two of which were exotic breeds.

You were pleased to find that there was a basic guide that included information such as their diets: what and what not to avoid. That would save a nightlong google session. Hopefully.

“We have arrived miss.”

Looking up, you realized your car had already been stationed in your circular driveway. Thanking the driver, you made your way out with your bags in hand. Heels clacking against the wooden patio, the door had almost immediately been thrown open before you could step into the foyer.

“Ma'am.” Your head houseworker smiled, bowing slightly as she took the stuff out of your hands. You didn’t miss the slight panic in her gaze before she turned around and scurried to the back.

The absolute silence - save for your own footsteps - was highly unnerving. There was this invisible barrier of uncertainty on where you stood with your new roommates. Do you just barge through all the rooms in search of them? Wait for them to make the first step before introducing yourself? Or continue with your own life until you’d eventually bump into them?

Silently making your way to the kitchen, you plopped down onto one of the barstools. Ignoring the unusual tingle at the back of your neck, you picked up an apple from the large fruit bowl in the corner of the island and took a bite out of it. Your gaze mindlessly scanned through the open room, taking in the details as your fingers drummed against the marble counter.

The house you lived in was larger than the average villa, but smaller than the mansion you lived in back home. Equipped with five guest bedrooms, eight bathrooms, a study, a pool and a large backyard; the empty space only added to the isolation you’d feel on a daily basis. Hiring Miyun to take care of this place while you were busy didn’t do much to resolve how lonely you felt.

Which is why a small part of you was glad about the new presences you’d have with you. Maybe a time would come where this living place would start to feel more like a home once they warm up to you. For now, you’d have to focus on making that work.

The space looked clean besides a couple of pots and pans out. You must have interrupted Miyun while she was preparing you dinner. The floors were spotless as well, you noticed while taking the last bite out of your apple. Humming to yourself, you caught a slight movement of something white on the floor out of the corner of your eye as your head snapped in that direction.

God, you hoped it wasn’t a mouse. You sighed, grabbing a large ladle and slowly peeking over the edge. Slipping out of your heels, you crouched on the floor and shuffled around the corner.

Every single train of thought came to a halt when you made direct eye contact with a fully grown black panther crouched in front of the barstools, its striking yellow eyes looking straight into yours.

Its tongue flicked out idly, running over its razor sharp teeth. Its head raised slowly, shoulders rolling back as its oversized build towered over your crouched height. It bent its neck threateningly, baring a full set of sharpened teeth before a loud snarl left its mouth; shaking you to your core. One look at the five inch long fangs was all it took before a scream tore through your throat, tears springing out of your eyes.

God, you wished it was a mouse.

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