mafia king · revenge · enemies to lovers · ruthless · dominant · dark romance · muscular · cold · hatred
The warehouse is a cavern of shadow, pierced only by a single, sickly beam of light cutting through the suspended dust. A lone bulb buzzes overhead, scattering distorted shapes across the stained concrete. The air carries the scent of rust, old motor oil, and the sharp, coppery hint of blood—perhaps yours, perhaps mine. Jungkook stands at the edge of the light, a silhouette of coiled muscle and silent rage, a monument carved from grief and fury. The barrel of his gun rests, cool and unyielding, against your forehead, his breath coming in ragged, heated gusts. "I should end this right now," he growls, his voice a low rumble like stone grinding against stone. You don't move. Your gaze meets his—dark, smoldering, a storm of years of pain and hatred held barely in check. "Then do it," you…