The air in Jungkook’s sleek, modern office cabin was thick with tension, the kind that clings to the walls and seeps into every corner. The large glass windows overlooked the sprawling cityscape, but the view did nothing to lighten the mood. The deal had finally been signed—a multi-million-dollar merger that had taken months of negotiations, late-night meetings, and calculated moves. The papers sat neatly stacked on the polished mahogany desk, their signatures still fresh, but the victory felt hollow. Jungkook and Taehyung, seated across from each other moments ago, had barely acknowledged the monumental agreement. Their focus wasn’t on the deal; it was on her. Y/N. The woman who had unknowingly become the center of their cold war.

Y/N wasn’t in the office today. Her absence was a void that both men felt keenly, though neither would admit it aloud. Jungkook’s jaw was set, his dark eyes unreadable as he leaned back in his leather chair, exuding an aura of control that bordered on menace. Taehyung, seated opposite him during the signing, had been equally composed, but the fire in his gaze betrayed the storm brewing within. Mr. Kim, Taehyung’s father and the patriarch of Kim Enterprises, stood nearby, his presence a quiet authority. Mr. Choi, Jungkook’s trusted advisor and the company’s legal counsel, hovered by the door, his expression neutral but his eyes sharp, taking in every detail.

The signing had been perfunctory, a formality that felt like a prelude to something far more personal. As Mr. Kim and Taehyung prepared to leave, Jungkook’s voice cut through the silence, low and deliberate, laced with a warning that sent a chill through the room.

“I hope you remember the deal, Mr. Kim,” Jungkook said, his tone deceptively calm as he fixed his gaze on Taehyung. “If your son tries to reach *my* Y/N again…”

The words hung in the air, sharp and possessive. Taehyung’s fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles whitening as he gritted his teeth, a muscle ticking in his jaw. The audacity of Jungkook claiming Y/N as his own ignited a fury in him, but before he could retort, Mr. Kim’s hand closed firmly around his wrist, a silent command to hold his tongue. Taehyung’s eyes flashed with defiance, but he obeyed, casting one last glare at Jungkook before turning toward the door.

Mr. Kim nodded curtly at Jungkook, his face unreadable. “Understood,” he said, his voice steady but carrying the weight of a man who knew the stakes. Without another word, he guided Taehyung out of the cabin, their footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway.

Mr. Choi lingered for a moment, his gaze flickering between Jungkook and the door. He adjusted his glasses, a subtle gesture that hid his unease, before following the Kims out. The door clicked shut, leaving Jungkook alone in the cabin.

Jungkook exhaled, leaning back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. The office was silent now, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning. He reached for his phone, his movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment. The screen lit up, revealing a live feed that made his lips curve into a dark, almost predatory smirk. There she was—Y/N, bound to a bed in some unknown location, her one leg ankle secured with heavy chains. Her face was streaked with tears, her body trembling as she struggled against her restraints, her muffled sobs barely audible through the feed. She was fighting, desperate to free herself, but it was futile. She didn’t know he was watching, didn’t know he was reveling in her helplessness.

“Sorry, love,” Jungkook murmured to the screen, his voice soft but dripping with malice. “I’ll deal with you later. For now, I have to deal with one person as well.” His thumb traced over the image of her face, as if he could touch her through the screen, his smirk widening as she collapsed back onto the bed, exhausted from her struggles.

His moment of twisted satisfaction was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. Jungkook’s smile vanished, his expression darkening as he slipped the phone into his pocket. “Come in,” he called, his voice cold and authoritative.

Mr. Choi stepped back into the cabin, his posture stiff, his throat clearing awkwardly as he adjusted his tie. “Sir, if you don’t mind, may I ask where Miss Y/N is?” His tone was polite, but there was an edge to it, a curiosity that bordered on suspicion.

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed, his gaze locking onto Mr. Choi with an intensity that could make anyone flinch. He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned forward, opened the top drawer of his desk, and pulled out a sealed envelope. With a flick of his wrist, he slid it across the table toward Mr. Choi, who hesitated before picking it up.

Mr. Choi’s fingers worked quickly to open the envelope, his eyes scanning the document inside. His breath caught as he read the words: *Resignation Letter*. Y/N’s name was printed at the top, her signature scrawled at the bottom. His brows furrowed, and he looked up at Jungkook, confusion and disbelief etched across his face. “Sir, you allowed Miss Y/N to resign? It’s against our company’s policy.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, his patience fraying like a taut wire about to snap. He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor, his tall frame towering over the desk. “Are you fucking questioning me?” he snapped, his voice low but venomous, each word laced with barely restrained anger.

Mr. Choi’s eyes widened, and he took a step back, bowing his head slightly. “Ah, I’m sorry, sir,” he stammered, his voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to—”

Jungkook cut him off with a sharp gesture, his expression cold and unyielding. “I’m leaving,” he said, grabbing his coat from the back of his chair and brushing past Mr. Choi without another word. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound reverberating through the cabin.

Mr. Choi stood frozen, the resignation letter still clutched in his hand. His mind raced, piecing together the fragments of what he’d just witnessed. Jungkook’s behavior, his evasiveness, the way he’d bristled at the mention of Y/N—it didn’t add up. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. And then, like a tidal wave, the memory of Taehyung’s words from earlier crashed over him.

---

**Flashback**

The hallway outside Jungkook’s cabin was quiet, the fluorescent lights casting long shadows as Mr. Choi escorted Mr. Kim and Taehyung toward the exit. The deal was done, but the tension between the two younger men lingered like a storm cloud. Just before they reached the elevator, Taehyung stopped abruptly, turning to face Mr. Choi. His expression was grim, his voice low but urgent.

“Mr. Choi, you need to know something,” Taehyung said, his eyes darting to his father, who gave a subtle nod of approval. “Jungkook isn’t what he seems. He’s dangerous. The doctor who was treating Jungkook—he’s dead. Jungkook made sure of it.”

Mr. Choi’s face paled, his mouth opening slightly as Taehyung pulled out his phone and showed him the evidence—photos, documents, a grainy video of Jungkook meeting with a man in a dark alley, followed by a news article about the doctor’s mysterious death. Each piece was a damning thread in a web of deceit.

“He’s obsessed with Y/N,” Taehyung continued, his voice shaking with a mix of anger and fear. “She’s not safe. You have to find out where she is. Please, Mr. Choi. you are the only one who can handle Jungkook from the inside , and I will find Yn , but you’re the only one who can get close enough to him here.”

Mr. Choi’s hands trembled as he scrolled through the evidence, his mind reeling. “I’ll find out what I can about Y/N,” he promised, his voice barely above a whisper. “We will make sure she’s safe.”

Taehyung nodded, his jaw tight. “Be careful. He’s not someone you want to cross.”

With that, Mr. Kim placed a hand on Taehyung’s shoulder, guiding him into the elevator. The doors slid shut, leaving Mr. Choi alone in the hallway, his heart pounding as the weight of Taehyung’s words settled over him.

---

Back in the present, Mr. Choi stared at the resignation letter, the paper crumpling slightly in his grip. Jungkook could fool the world with his charm and authority, but he couldn’t fool him. Not anymore. The words Taehyung had spoken echoed in his mind, each one a warning, a plea to act before it was too late. Y/N was in danger, and Mr. Choi knew he had to find her—before Jungkook’s twisted game claimed her for good.

**Author’s POV**

The heavy oak doors of the mansion groaned as Jungkook pushed them open, his polished shoes clicking against the marble floor of the grand foyer. The chandelier above cast dim, golden light, illuminating the opulent interior, but his focus was singular, his steps purposeful. He didn’t pause to admire the sprawling staircase or the intricate tapestries lining the walls. His mind was elsewhere—on her. His Yn. The weight of the day clung to him, a mix of frustration and possessiveness, but his lips curled into a faint, unreadable smile as he ascended the stairs toward his bedroom.

The hallway was silent, save for the faint echo of his footsteps. The air felt thick, charged with an unspoken tension that seemed to linger in this place—a mansion that was more a gilded cage than a home. He reached the double doors of his bedroom, carved with ornate patterns, and pushed them open without hesitation. The room was vast, draped in shadows, the only light spilling from a single lamp on the bedside table. Its soft glow illuminated the figure on the bed.

Yn lay there, curled into herself, her body trembling with silent sobs. Her delicate frame was dwarfed by the massive four-poster bed, its dark silk sheets a stark contrast to her pale, tear-streaked face. Her right ankle was bound by a heavy iron chain, its links glinting coldly in the low light. The chain was long enough to allow her movement within the room but anchored to the bedpost, ensuring she could never cross the threshold to the world beyond. Her soft, muffled cries filled the room, a heartbreaking sound that seemed to pierce the stillness.

Jungkook paused in the doorway, his sharp eyes taking in the scene. His tailored suit jacket was slightly wrinkled from the day, his dark hair tousled, but his presence was commanding, almost suffocating. Slowly, he stepped forward, his shadow stretching across the floor, creeping over the bed until it enveloped her. Yn’s sobs faltered as she sensed the shift in the air, the weight of his gaze. Her body stiffened, and she turned her head slightly, her tear-filled eyes meeting his.

Jungkook stood at the edge of the bed, towering over her fragile form. His smile was soft, almost tender, but there was something unsettling in it—a darkness that lingered beneath the surface. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, traced the curve of her face, the redness of her eyes, the way her lips trembled. She was beautiful, even in her despair, and that only seemed to deepen the intensity of his stare.

Yn’s breath hitched, and she scrambled to sit up, pressing herself against the headboard as if she could escape his presence. “Don’t come near me,” she whispered, her voice cracking, laced with both fear and defiance. Her hands clutched the sheets, knuckles white, as she glared at him through her tears.

Jungkook tilted his head, his smile widening into something almost playful, though it carried an edge of menace. He chuckled softly, the sound low and smooth, sending a shiver down her spine. “Baby, why are you crying?” he asked, his tone deceptively gentle as he took a step closer, his hands casually slipping into the pockets of his trousers. “You’re acting like I’m the crazy one here. Tying you up like this? Me, crazy?” He gestured toward the chain with a lazy flick of his hand, his eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re the one who tried to run away from me, Yn. You’re lucky this is all I did.”

Her eyes widened, a fresh wave of tears spilling over as she tugged uselessly at the chain around her ankle. The metal clinked softly, a cruel reminder of her captivity. “You’re insane,” she choked out, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. “Why are you doing this to me? Let me go, Jungkook. Please, just… release me.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting to one of mock curiosity. He stepped closer, the bed dipping under his weight as he sat on the edge, his body now mere inches from hers. “Why should I, baby?” he asked, his voice low and taunting. He leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes locking onto hers, unrelenting. “Where would you even go?”

“I want to go home,” Yn whispered, her voice barely audible, her hands trembling in her lap. The word “home” felt like a distant memory, a place she could scarcely picture anymore.

Jungkook’s smile faded for a moment, his jaw tightening as he leaned closer, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek. His touch was warm, almost gentle, but it sent a chill through her. “This is your home, baby,” he said, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. “You’re not leaving my sight. Not ever.” His thumb brushed away a tear from her cheek, and his lips curved into a smile again, though it was colder now, possessive. “If you want, we can buy you a new house. Something bigger, prettier. But you’re staying with me.”

Yn flinched at his touch, her body tensing, but she didn’t pull away. She knew better by now. His gentleness was a mask, one that could slip at any moment. Her silence seemed to please him, and he leaned closer, his lips brushing against her cheek in a soft, deliberate kiss. The gesture was tender, but it felt like a claim, a reminder of his control.

“Come on,” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. “Let’s take a bath together, okay? You’ll feel better.” Without waiting for her response, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, ornate key. The chain around her ankle clinked as he unlocked it, the metal falling away with a dull thud against the floor. Yn’s breath caught as the weight lifted, but before she could process the fleeting sense of freedom, Jungkook’s arms were around her.

He scooped her up effortlessly, cradling her against his chest as he stood. Her body was limp in his hold, her mind racing but her strength sapped by fear and exhaustion. She didn’t protest, didn’t fight. She knew the consequences of resistance, and had seen the glint of danger in his eyes too many times. Jungkook was more unpredictable now, his moods shifting like a storm, and she couldn’t afford to provoke him.

He carried her across the room, his steps steady, his grip firm but not painful.

The bathroom was a cavern of luxury, its walls lined with sleek black marble veined with gold, reflecting the warm glow of sconces mounted above the vanity. The air was heavy with steam, curling up from the bathtub in lazy tendrils, carrying the faint scent of lavender oil that Jungkook must have added earlier. The claw-footed tub, an imposing centerpiece, gleamed under the light, its surface rippling gently as the water settled. A plush towel hung neatly over a rack nearby, and a crystal decanter of bath oils sat on a small table, catching the light like a jewel. Everything in this space screamed control—Jungkook’s control—down to the meticulous arrangement of every detail.

Yn sat on the edge of the tub, her bare feet brushing against the cool marble floor. Her hands gripped the rim tightly, her knuckles pale, as if anchoring herself to the last shred of her resolve. The chain was gone, but the weight of her captivity lingered, heavier than ever. Her eyes, still red from crying, darted nervously around the room, avoiding Jungkook’s gaze. Her nightgown, a delicate silk slip he’d chosen for her, clung to her skin, its soft fabric a cruel mockery of the freedom she no longer had.

Jungkook stood before her, his presence dominating the space. He’d shed his suit jacket earlier, and now his fingers worked unhurriedly at the buttons of his crisp white shirt. Each movement was deliberate, almost theatrical, as if he knew the effect it had on her—knew how it made her heart race with a mix of dread and something she refused to name. His shirt fell open, revealing the taut lines of his chest, and he tossed it carelessly onto a nearby chair, his eyes never leaving her.

“You’re so quiet, baby,” he said, his voice low and smooth, like velvet with a hidden edge. He stepped closer, his bare feet silent on the marble, and crouched down in front of her, bringing his face level with hers. His dark eyes searched her expression, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours? Hmm? Thinking about running again?”

Yn’s breath hitched, her body tensing as his hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was gentle, but it sent a shiver down her spine, a reminder of how quickly his tenderness could turn. “I’m not… I’m not thinking anything,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, her eyes fixed on the floor. She hated how small she sounded, how her defiance seemed to crumble under the weight of his gaze.

Jungkook chuckled, the sound rich and almost affectionate, but it carried a warning. “Liar,” he teased, his fingers trailing down her cheek to her jaw, tilting her face up so she had no choice but to meet his eyes. “You’re always thinking, Yn. That’s what I love about you. But you need to stop thinking about things that don’t matter. Like leaving.” His voice hardened on the last word, his grip on her jaw tightening just enough to make her wince.

“Jungkook, please…” Her voice broke, a fresh tear slipping down her cheek. She hated herself for crying, for letting him see her weakness, but the weight of everything—the chain, the mansion, his suffocating presence—was too much. “I can’t do this. I can’t live like this.”

His expression softened, but it wasn’t kindness—it was something darker, something possessive. “You don’t have to do anything, baby,” he murmured, his thumb brushing away the tear. “You just have to be mine. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against her skin, and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. The gesture was intimate, almost loving, but it felt like a brand, marking her as his.

He stood abruptly, turning to the tub and testing the water with his hand. “Perfect,” he said, more to himself than to her, as he adjusted the faucet slightly. The sound of trickling water filled the silence, a soft counterpoint to the tension that hung between them. He glanced back at her, his smirk returning. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. You’ll feel better, I promise.”

Yn didn’t move, her body frozen, her mind screaming at her to resist, to fight, to do *something*. But the memory of his anger, of the times she’d pushed too far, kept her rooted in place. She knew what he was capable of, had seen the shift in his eyes when his patience wore thin. Instead, she watched as he approached her again, his movements fluid, predatory.

“Stand up,” he said, his tone gentle but firm, leaving no room for argument. When she hesitated, his smile faded, and he raised an eyebrow. “Don’t make me ask twice, Yn.”

Her legs trembled as she stood, her hands clutching the hem of her nightgown as if it could shield her from him. Jungkook’s eyes roamed over her, unapologetic, and he stepped closer, his hands finding the straps of her nightgown. “Let’s get this off,” he said softly, his fingers brushing against her shoulders as he began to slide the fabric down.

“Jungkook, no—” The words slipped out before she could stop them, her hands flying up to push against his chest. Her touch was weak, her strength no match for his, but the defiance in her eyes burned bright for a moment.

He paused, his hands stilling, and for a heartbeat, the air crackled with tension. Then he laughed, a low, rumbling sound that sent a chill through her. “Oh, baby,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement. “You’re so cute when you fight me.” He caught her wrists in one hand, his grip firm but not painful, and leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear. “But you know it doesn’t change anything. You’re mine.”

Yn’s breath came in shallow gasps, her heart pounding as she tried to pull away, but his hold was unyielding. “Why can’t you just let me go?” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m not… I’m not a thing you can own.”

Jungkook’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he released her wrists and stepped back, giving her a moment to breathe. But the distance was a lie—he was still in control, and they both knew it. “You think you’re not mine?” he asked, his voice dangerously soft. “Everything about you belongs to me, Yn. Your tears, your smile, your body, your heart. You can fight it all you want, but you’ll never leave me.”

He turned away briefly, reaching for a bottle of bath oil and pouring a small amount into the water. The scent of lavender grew stronger, cloying in its sweetness. When he turned back to her, his expression had softened again, but it was a calculated softness, meant to disarm her. “Enough of this,” he said, his tone lighter now, almost playful. “Let’s not ruin the night. Come here.”

Before she could protest, he closed the distance between them, his hands gentle but firm as he guided her toward the tub. The nightgown slipped to the floor, leaving her exposed, vulnerable, and she wrapped her arms around herself, her cheeks flushing with shame and fear. Jungkook’s eyes softened, but there was a hunger in them, a possessiveness that made her stomach churn.

“Get in,” he said, his voice low, coaxing. When she didn’t move, he sighed, his patience wearing thin. “Yn, don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Her body moved before her mind could catch up, her limbs trembling as she stepped into the warm water. The heat enveloped her, soothing her skin but doing nothing to ease the cold dread in her chest. She sank down, curling her knees to her chest, her eyes fixed on the rippling surface of the water.

Jungkook watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he began to unbuckle his belt. The sound of the metal clinking made her flinch, and he noticed, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Relax, baby,” he said, his voice almost teasing. “I’m just joining you.”

As he stripped down and stepped into the tub, the water sloshed gently, the ripples brushing against her skin. He settled behind her, his legs on either side of her, his chest pressing against her back. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, and she stiffened, her breath catching in her throat.

“See?” he murmured, his lips brushing against her shoulder. “This isn’t so bad, is it?” His hands moved slowly, one resting on her stomach, the other tracing lazy circles along her arm. “You just need to let go, Yn. Let me take care of you.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. She wanted to scream, to push him away, to run and never look back. But the weight of his arms, the warmth of his body, the inescapable reality of his control—it all held her in place. She closed her eyes, a single tear slipping down her cheek, disappearing into the water.

Jungkook’s lips curved into a satisfied smile as he leaned back, pulling her with him. “That’s my girl,” he whispered, his voice a soft, dangerous promise. “You’ll learn to love this. You’ll learn to love me.”

To be continued ..