Author’s POV

Mr. Kim stood stiffly outside the meeting room, his hands clasped behind his back, eyes trained on the floor as he waited. The sterile hallway buzzed faintly with the hum of fluorescent lights above, the silence between the occasional passing footsteps thick with unspoken tension. His watch ticked quietly, a reminder of the time slipping away.

The sound of approaching shoes echoed softly before Mr. Choi appeared from around the corner. He gave Mr. Kim a curt nod, adjusting the cuff of his suit.

“Mr. Jeon is waiting for you inside,” Mr. Choi informed, his tone neutral.

Mr. Kim opened his mouth to respond, but the click of polished shoes from the opposite end of the hall stole his attention. Taehyung, sharp in a dark suit, approached with his usual lazy elegance, face blank, unreadable.

“Where were you, son?” Mr. Kim asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Washroom,” Taehyung replied simply, his voice low and disinterested. No explanation, no apology—just a word.

Without wasting another breath, the three of them entered the meeting room.

The air inside was crisp, too cold for comfort—intentionally so, perhaps. The room was sleek, minimalistic, all dark glass and chrome, with a long table stretching between them and the man seated at the head.

Jungkook.

He sat there like he belonged—like he ruled—leaning back in the black leather chair, one hand resting lazily on the armrest, the other tapping slow patterns against the table. His sharp jaw was set, eyes cold and calculating as they swept across the room.

Mr. Kim gave him a polite nod, to which Jungkook responded with the barest curl of his lips—acknowledgment, not warmth. There was a mutual respect there, one that had been forged through deals, history, and an unspoken understanding.

But today wasn’t about Mr. Kim. Today was about the two men who finally stood face to face across that table, officially for the first time.

Taehyung and Jungkook.

They didn’t greet each other. No handshake. No words. Just silence and a stare so sharp it could cut steel.

They had known each other for years, long before business came into the picture. But history didn’t mean harmony. There was something feral behind the calm in their eyes—something buried but not forgotten. Neither of them blinked. Neither of them flinched. Their hatred wasn’t loud. It was silent and suffocating, cloaked in civility but laced with venom.

Mr. Kim cleared his throat, attempting to cut through the tension like a knife through smoke.

“ Mr Jeon ” he began carefully, “Taehyung will be the one handling this deal on behalf of the Kim Group.”

A sharp flick of the brow was the only sign of Jungkook’s reaction. He sat up straighter, his interest piqued.

“Oh?” he said, voice smooth but laced with something colder. “Interesting choice. You once told me Taehyung wasn’t interested in business matters.”

He didn’t need to say the rest. Everyone in that room knew why Taehyung was really there. Jungkook especially.

His gaze lingered on Taehyung, reading him like an open book. He wasn’t a fool. Taehyung hadn’t given up on Y/n—and now, he was back. For her.

But what Taehyung didn’t realize—or maybe he did, and simply didn’t care—was that Jungkook wasn’t the same man when it came to Y/n. Business Jungkook was ruthless. Y/n’s Jungkook was feral.

Taehyung smirked, slow and deliberate, like he knew exactly what Jungkook was thinking.

“I’ll give him a chance,” Jungkook said finally, his voice dropping to something deeper, almost mocking. “But if the deal doesn’t succeed—exactly as you claimed—it’ll cost Kim Group three times the investment. Jeon Empire won’t tolerate anything less.”

Mr. Kim’s mouth opened to interject, but before he could, Taehyung’s voice slid in like a blade.

“You’ll see soon enough who ends up paying... or who loses something far more precious.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, the muscle ticking as he clenched his teeth. His composure held, but barely. Mr. Kim turned sharply to Taehyung, clearly rattled. He understood the double meaning behind those words. Taehyung wasn’t just talking about money.

But before he could scold or intervene, his phone rang. Important. Urgent. He excused himself reluctantly, casting one last look at both men before leaving.

Now, only Taehyung and Jungkook remained.

The air thickened the second the door shut. No words passed between them, but everything was being said through their eyes.

Taehyung slid into the seat across from Jungkook, relaxed, confident—dangerously calm.

Jungkook leaned forward slightly, voice dropping low. “You’re playing a very risky game.”

Taehyung’s lips twitched. “I don’t play games, Jeon. I will win them.”

The war wasn’t starting. It had already begun.

And Y/n was the battlefield.

The moment the door shut behind Mr. Kim, the air in the room shifted.

Silence. Heavy. Suffocating.

Jungkook and Taehyung sat across from each other like two predators—one calculating, the other burning with quiet rage. Their mutual contempt was no longer masked behind business etiquette. It sat in the open now, ugly and raw.

“You think you can just walk back in like this?” Jungkook’s voice was low, dark, laced with venom. His fingers curled into fists on the table.

Taehyung tilted his head slightly, the smirk on his lips gone now, replaced by something colder. “I don’t need your permission to be where I belong.”

Jungkook stood slowly, his chair scraping against the floor with a metallic screech. “Y/n isn’t yours to claim.”

Taehyung followed suit, rising from his chair. “Neither is she yours to own.”

That was it.

The dam broke.

Without another word, Jungkook lunged forward, fists connecting with Taehyung’s jaw with a sickening thud. The impact sent Taehyung stumbling back, but he recovered quickly, landing a brutal punch to Jungkook’s ribs in retaliation.

The table between them toppled, papers scattering like snow in a storm. Chairs clattered against the floor. A glass shattered.

“You’re still the same arrogant bastard,” Jungkook growled, slamming Taehyung against the wall.

“And you’re still the possessive coward who hides behind a throne,” Taehyung spat, shoving him off.

Fists flew again—raw, furious. There was no finesse, only rage. The kind that had been building for years. Years of history. Years of Y/n.

Blood smeared across Taehyung’s cheek as Jungkook landed another blow, but Taehyung responded with a brutal knee to the gut. They weren’t businessmen anymore. They were just two men in pain, fighting over the only person who had ever made either of them feel anything real.

Then—

The door burst open.

“Jungkook! Taehyung!” Mr. Kim’s voice thundered.

He rushed in with Mr. Choi behind him, and just behind them—

Y/n.

But no one had a chance to process anything, because in that moment, Jungkook had Taehyung pinned to the ground, his hand wrapped around his throat, squeezing with a fury that made his entire frame tremble.

Taehyung struggled beneath him, gasping, fingers clawing at Jungkook’s arm, but the younger man’s face was stone-cold—lost in wrath.

“Jungkook, stop it!” Mr. Kim yelled, but his voice barely registered.

Mr. Choi grabbed Jungkook’s arm, trying to pry him off, while Mr. Kim knelt beside Taehyung, pulling at his shoulders.

It took both of them to finally separate the two.

Taehyung rolled onto his side, coughing violently, bruises already blooming across his face. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. Mr. Kim, wide-eyed and frantic, touched his son’s face with trembling hands.

“Taehyung… What the hell were you doing?”

But Taehyung didn’t answer. His bloodshot eyes were locked on something else.

Y/n.

She was moving toward Jungkook, carefully, quietly.

She was moving toward Jungkook, carefully, quietly.

Mr. Choi had already gestured for her to step in—he knew only she could reach him now.

Jungkook stood frozen, chest heaving, his eyes unfocused—blinded by rage. He hadn’t even realized she was there.

Not until her hands cupped his cheeks.

Soft. Warm. Grounding.

“Jungkook…” she whispered.

His eyes snapped to hers like a man surfacing from deep water. He stared at her, stunned, as though unsure if she was real. Her touch soothed the fury burning beneath his skin, her presence anchoring him to the moment.

And without thinking, without words—

He pulled her into his arms.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was desperate. Jungkook’s arms wrapped around her like he was afraid she might disappear if he didn’t hold tight enough. His face buried in the crook of her neck as his breath hitched.

Taehyung sat up, breathing ragged, watching the scene unfold. His face twisted—not in anger this time, but heartbreak. A silent crack that shattered something in him.

The way Jungkook held her. The way she let him.

Taehyung’s jaw clenched. His fists curled at his sides.

He stood, staggered slightly, and without a word, turned and walked out of the meeting hall, leaving a trail of silence behind him.

Mr. Choi let out a heavy sigh and looked at Mr. Kim. “We’ll continue this later,” he said, tone grave.

Mr. Kim nodded quietly, eyes still flicking between his son’s battered form and the embrace across the room.

The deal could wait.

This war was far from over.

And love had officially become the most dangerous weapon in the room.

Jungkook’s POV

Jungkook’s POV

She was still in his arms.

Delicate. Soft. Warm.

HIS. And no one—not Taehyung, not fate, not even Y/n herself—could take her away from him.

Jungkook's fingers flexed against her back as he inhaled her scent. That familiar, comforting sweetness that always had the power to silence the storm inside his chest.

But this time, the silence wasn’t peaceful.

It was dangerous.

Because now he knew.

He saw it.

The way Taehyung looked at her. Like he still believed he had a chance. Like he could just waltz back into their lives and claim something that no longer belonged to him.

She was never yours.

Jungkook wanted to scream it into Taehyung’s skull. Carve it into his skin if he had to.

He’d fought too hard. Buried too many pieces of himself to keep her close. He’d changed everything—killed the soft parts of his heart to build a kingdom that could shelter her.

And now that he had her…

He wasn’t letting go.

Not again.

Never again.

If Y/n ever thought about leaving him, she wouldn’t even make it to the door.

He’d burn the world first.

“Mine,” Jungkook whispered against her skin, so softly only he could hear it.

His arms wrapped tighter, almost like he was scared she might vanish again. That some phantom version of the past would rip her from his hands and throw her back into Taehyung’s orbit.

He couldn’t let that happen.

He wouldn’t.

If Taehyung wanted a war—Jungkook would give him one. A war he couldn’t walk away from. He would bleed him dry. Ruin him. Crush his name, his pride, his hope. He’d tear down every memory Y/n ever had with him and replace it with something new.

Something permanent.

“Baby …” he murmured, his voice low, obsessive, not even sure if she was still listening. “I won’t let anyone have you.”

He pulled back just enough to see her face—so beautiful, so unaware of the firestorm inside him. Her eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted in concern. Gentle. Fragile.

Perfect.

He cupped her face, gently now—but inside, every nerve was screaming. Every bone in his body was humming with the need to protect, to possess, to own.

“Stay with me,” he said. “Don’t ever walk away from me.”

It wasn’t a question.

It was a vow.

Because if she ever did…

He’d make sure the world was too dangerous for her to exist in without him.

She was the only light he had left.

And Jungkook would burn every damn thing around him just to keep her glowing at his side.

Y/n’s POV

His hands were trembling.

Not with fear—but something deeper. Wilder.

Possession.

Jungkook’s grip on her waist was firm, protective, as if letting go meant losing something he’d fought far too long to keep. His eyes searched hers, dark and full of storm clouds that refused to pass.

And she saw it all.

The anger. The obsession. The fear.

“Stay with me. Don’t ever walk away from me,” he whispered—no, pleaded—but beneath the softness of his voice was a vow carved in steel.

It made her heart ache.

She lifted her hand, brushing her fingers gently across his cheek. His jaw was still tight. His body tense.

“Jungkook,” she murmured, voice soft, steady. “Look at me.”

He did. Slowly. As if afraid she’d vanish if he blinked.

“I’m not leaving you.”

His brow twitched. He didn't believe her yet.

Y/n stepped closer, placing both hands on his chest, feeling his heart hammering like a war drum beneath her touch. She let her fingers trail up to his face again, her thumb brushing against the cut on his lip.

“No matter what happens,” she continued, “no matter who tries to come between us… I won’t leave you.”

Jungkook’s breath hitched. His eyes darkened, but not with anger this time—with something more raw. More vulnerable.

“You promise?” he asked, his voice low, strained. “Even if it gets ugly? Even if I… even if I lose control sometimes?”

She nodded, swallowing the knot in her throat. “Even then. Especially then.”

The silence that followed was thick with tension—but not the kind that suffocated.

It bound them.

Without another word, Jungkook leaned down and captured her lips in his.

It wasn’t gentle.

It was consuming.

Desperate.

His lips claimed hers with a hunger that had waited far too long. And she gave in—let herself fall into him, into his arms, into the gravity he held around her like a curse and a comfort all at once.

He kissed her like she was the only thing keeping him alive.

When they pulled apart, just barely, Jungkook rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mixing in the silence.

“You say you won’t leave me,” he whispered, his voice lower now—possessive, dangerous. “But even if you wanted to…”

His eyes met hers, sharp and unwavering.

“I wouldn’t let you.”

Y/n’s breath caught.

He wasn’t saying it to scare her.

He was saying it because it was the truth.

His truth.

And somehow, despite the darkness in it, despite the obsessive fire she could feel burning in him—she wasn’t afraid.

Because that fire…

It was hers too.

Taehyung’s POV

The engine roared beneath his hands as Taehyung gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, blood from his split lip dripping onto his cuff. His reflection flashed in the rearview mirror—bruised, bloodied, humiliated.

But none of it stung as much as the image playing over and over in his head.

Jungkook.

Holding her.

And her—letting him.

Taehyung slammed his foot harder on the gas, the city lights blurring past as he tore through the streets. His pulse was thunder in his ears, his thoughts spiraling, vicious.

He touched her. Like she belonged to him.

He tightened his jaw until it ached. The taste of iron filled his mouth.

“I should’ve never left her in the first place,” he muttered to himself, voice low, bitter.

Years ago, he’d stepped back. He thought he was doing the right thing. He thought fate would circle back.

But fate had been cruel.

It gave her to him.

Jeon Jungkook. The man Taehyung had hated long before Y/n was in the picture. Now, with her between them, that hate had evolved into something darker.

Possession.

Obsession.

She was supposed to be mine. Mine.

He remembered her eyes when she looked at Jungkook. The way her hands had calmed the beast. It wasn’t just affection—it was trust. Something deeper.

But Taehyung didn’t care.

He couldn’t care.

If she wouldn’t come back to him willingly… then she’d come back by force.

By fire.

By destruction.

He would tear Jungkook’s empire down brick by brick if he had to. Make him crawl. Make him bleed. And when Jungkook had nothing left—no power, no pride, no her—Taehyung would be standing there, hand extended.

She’d see then.

She’d remember.

And she’d be his again.

By hook.

Or by crook.

Y/n’s POV

The room was chaotic when she entered.

She hadn’t expected it. Not like this.

Mr. Kim’s voice had been urgent on the phone, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight of Jungkook—her Jungkook—with blood on his fists, pinning Taehyung to the floor like a man possessed.

She couldn’t breathe.

Taehyung’s gasps. Jungkook’s fury. The smell of blood and tension.

It all crashed into her chest like a tidal wave.

And then—

Mr. Choi signaled her. She barely heard him. Her eyes were locked on the man she thought she knew.

Jungkook looked nothing like the calm, composed CEO she’d grown to understand—this version of him was feral, rage carved into every line of his face, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked painful.

He didn’t even notice her. Not at first.

Not until she touched him.

Her palms found his cheeks, warm and trembling. His skin was damp with sweat, his breath shallow, wild. She whispered his name gently, barely audible, but it was enough.

The second his eyes met hers, she saw it—the shift. The chaos in his chest cracked open, and for a moment, she could see the boy underneath the man. The boy who was breaking.

Then he pulled her in.

Tight.

Desperate.

He buried his face into her neck and held her like the world was falling apart around them. And maybe it was.

She didn’t know what to say. She just held him back. Because despite everything—despite the blood and the bruises—she still cared.

But even as she stood in his arms, feeling the weight of his pain pressed against her, her eyes drifted across the room.

To Taehyung.

He was on his feet now, a shadow of the man she used to know. Blood stained the corner of his mouth, and a bruise was already forming under his eye, but it wasn’t the injuries that made her heart ache—it was his expression.

He looked broken.

But not surprised.

His eyes met hers, and for a fleeting second, she saw it all—the longing, the jealousy, the fury, and something deeper beneath it all.

Heartbreak.

And then he turned.

No words. No fight. Just a bitter clench of his jaw and the sound of the door swinging shut behind him.

Gone.

Y/n blinked back the sting in her eyes, torn by a thousand threads of emotion.

Jungkook still held her, but n

ow, the silence in the room was deafening.

Mr. Choi’s voice finally broke it. “We’ll handle the rest later.”

Mr. Kim only nodded, his eyes on the door Taehyung had disappeared through.

Y/n stood quietly, her hands still wrapped around Jungkook, but her heart—

Her heart was a battlefield.

Because two kings were fighting for a throne she never asked to sit on.

And she was scared of who’d win.

Because either way… someone was going to lose more than just a war.

To be continued …