♡ Part - 38 ♡

The morning sun streamed through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the quiet living room. Jimin sat curled up on the couch, his hands resting on his lap, his mind lost in endless thoughts. His heart felt heavy, weighed down by the memories of the past few days. Everything had changed so suddenly-his marriage, his relationship with Yoongi, his entire world.

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, his eyes staring blankly at the floor.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. The sudden sound startled him, pulling him back to reality. He hesitated for a moment before slowly getting up, his legs feeling weak beneath him.

As he opened the door, he was met with the sight of a stranger-a man he had never seen before. The man held out an envelope without a word, his expression neutral.

Jimin hesitantly reached out and took it. Before he could ask anything, the man turned and walked away, disappearing down the street.

Frowning, Jimin shut the door, his heart pounding in his chest. What is this?

His fingers trembled slightly as he looked down at the envelope, a strange sense of unease washing over him. He walked back to the couch, sat down, and carefully tore open the envelope.

The moment he pulled out the contents, his breath caught in his throat.

His eyes widened in shock. His hands shook as he flipped through the neatly stacked papers. His vision blurred with unshed tears as the words "Divorce Agreement" stared back at him in bold letters.

Jimin's heart stopped.

Divorce?

A sharp gasp left his lips as his fingers tightened around the papers. His chest ached as if someone had physically punched him. His throat felt dry, his hands turning clammy. His eyes darted down to the bottom of the document.

Yoongi's name was already signed.

A sob bubbled up in his throat. His body trembled, his grip on the papers loosening. They slipped from his hands, fluttering to the floor like dead leaves.

His vision blurred as hot tears welled up, spilling down his cheeks. His breath came out in short, shallow gasps, his heart pounding painfully against his ribcage.

No... this can't be real.

Jimin clutched his chest as the pain inside him grew unbearable. His mind screamed at him to wake up from this nightmare, but the reality was too clear-Yoongi had left him.

Amid the scattered papers, something caught his eye-a smaller folded sheet.

A letter.

Jimin's shaky hands reached out, carefully picking it up. His heart pounded against his ribs as he slowly unfolded the paper, recognizing the familiar handwriting.

Yoongi.

His breath hitched, his fingers clutching the paper tightly. With a trembling heart, he began to read.

Jimin's hands trembled as he unfolded the letter, his heart pounding in his chest. He took a shaky breath before his eyes focused on the first line, Yoongi's familiar handwriting staring back at him.

> Jimin,

By the time you read this, I will already be gone.

Jimin's breath hitched. His fingers clenched around the edges of the paper as he forced himself to keep reading.

> I know you must be hurting right now, but trust me when I say that this decision is for the best. I never wanted to force you into a life you didn't choose. From the very beginning, I have been selfish-kidnapping you, keeping you by my side, convincing myself that it was love when all I did was take away your freedom.

I have watched you suffer because of me. I have seen the pain in your eyes, the way you flinch, the way you hesitate before speaking. I have hurt you more than I ever intended, and for that, I will never forgive myself.

That's why I'm letting you go.

Jimin felt a sob building in his throat. His hands shook as he tightened his grip on the letter, his vision blurring with tears.

> You are the man who has brought back all the joy and happiness in my life, the very things I had been missing for so long. You are the one who has made me feel complete. When I think of how life was before you, I shudder and realize that God, in His infinite wisdom, led you to me and made my life a better place.

I love you so much, Jimin.

Jimin clutched the letter tightly, his heart aching.

> Like a rose wilting and dying, so feels my heart. I never wanted to leave your side, afraid I would lose you. But then reality hit-I realized you never felt the way I feel for you. You never loved me. And obviously, why would you? After all that I have done to you...

Tears spilled freely down Jimin's cheeks, his breath coming in shaky gasps.

> I want to say that I am very sorry for my actions. I know that what I have done to you was very wrong, and I regret it more than you can ever know. Forgive me, Jimin. I know it won't be easy for you to forgive me, but please, try.

You were right-I am a bad person. I don't deserve you. You are an angel, a pure-hearted man who deserves someone far better than me.

Jimin's hands tightened around the letter, shaking as he read the words that felt like knives piercing his heart.

> So I have sent you the divorce papers. I have signed them. You should sign them too.

Now, you are free from this so-called relationship. You don't need to be with me anymore. You are free. You can do whatever you want. You can go wherever you want to go.

But please, be safe. Because I care about you. I always will. I love you, Jimin. Until my last breath.

The last few words were smudged slightly, as if Yoongi had hesitated while writing them.

Jimin's grip on the letter loosened, and it slipped from his fingers, landing softly on the floor. His shoulders trembled as sobs wracked his body, the pain in his chest unbearable.

He left.

Yoongi left.

And Jimin never even got the chance to tell him that he didn't want to leave. That he didn't want a divorce. That he-

"Yoongi..." Jimin whispered, his voice breaking as he clutched his chest, his heart aching with regret.

The reality of losing Yoongi sank in like a dagger to his soul.

And he knew, in that moment, that he couldn't let it end like this.

The room was silent except for the faint rustling of paper as Jimin clutched Yoongi's letter to his chest. His heart pounded, his emotions raw and overwhelming. Guilt crept into his veins like a slow poison, mixing with the ache of longing and regret. Every word Yoongi had written carried a weight that settled deep within him, making him realize just how blind he had been.

His fingers trembled as he traced the inked letters, as if trying to feel the lingering warmth of Yoongi's hands on the paper. How could he think of getting divorce? How could he believe that he was unworthy of me when, in reality, it was me who didn't deserve him?

A fresh wave of tears welled up in his eyes, but this time, he didn't allow them to fall. He wiped his face roughly, inhaling deeply. A newfound resolve sparked in his chest, igniting a fire that burned away his doubts.

"I won't sign these papers."

The words left his lips in a hushed whisper, but they carried the strength of an unshakable vow. He repeated them, firmer this time. "I won't let our love end like this."

Jimin exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around the letter as if drawing strength from Yoongi's written words. He thinks I don't love him, but he's wrong. He's so, so wrong.

A memory flashed through his mind-Yoongi's warm gaze on him, the way his touch always lingered a second longer as if afraid to let go. The quiet ways he had shown his love, in actions more than words. And Jimin had been too lost in his own fears to recognize them, too hesitant to embrace what had been right in front of him.

No more.

"I already made the biggest mistake of my life by hurting you, by not fully accepting you," Jimin admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. His chest felt tight as the weight of his past mistakes pressed down on him. But instead of breaking under it, he allowed it to push him forward.

His voice grew steadier as he spoke into the quiet of the room, as if Yoongi could somehow hear him. "I won't make that mistake again by walking away. I refuse to lose you."

The words hung in the air, heavy with promise.

For the first time in a long while, Jimin felt clarity wash over him. He understood his feelings now, the ones he had ignored, suppressed, and misinterpreted. The love he had thought was simply affection, the attachment he had mistaken for mere dependency-it was all so painfully obvious now.

He loved Yoongi.

Deeply. Unquestionably. Unconditionally.

His lips quivered as the realization settled over him like a warm embrace. "Now I understand my own feelings, now I realize my love for you." His voice was softer now, filled with the tenderness he wished he could express directly to Yoongi.

A small, sad smile touched his lips as he whispered, "I will show you how much I love you, my dear husband. I will make you believe that our relationship is worthy, not useless."

His gaze flickered toward the divorce papers lying on the table, mocking him with their cruel finality. Yoongi had signed them, convinced that letting Jimin go was the only way to make him happy. But Yoongi had been wrong.

Jimin didn't want freedom.

He wanted Yoongi.

He reached for the papers with steady hands, his resolve unwavering. With one last deep breath, he tore them in half. The sound of the ripping paper echoed in the silence, a symbol of his decision-a declaration that he refused to accept an ending he never wanted.

Piece by piece, he shredded the documents, scattering them onto the floor like discarded regrets. His hands shook, but this time, it wasn't out of fear or uncertainty. It was determination, the overwhelming need to fight for the love he had almost let slip away.

Jimin held Yoongi's letter close to his heart once more, his eyes shining with newfound hope.

"Just come back to me, my love," he murmured, voice trembling with emotion. "I can't wait to tell you how much I love you."

His lips curved into a small but genuine smile.

"I want to make you mine, because you are only mine."

And this time, he was ready to prove it.

___________________________________________

Day 1 - Arrival in Spain

The private jet landed at a secluded airstrip in Spain under the cover of darkness. Yoongi stepped out, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings. He had left South Korea as a broken man, but as he breathed in the foreign air, something in him hardened.

His heart had been torn apart, his love unreciprocated-or so he thought. And now, all that remained was the cold, ruthless shell of Min Yoongi, the feared mafia leader known as Suga.

Jungkook had tried to reach him before his departure, but Yoongi ignored the calls. There was no Min Yoongi anymore. Only Suga.

His eyes were void of warmth as he walked toward the black SUV waiting for him. Mark stood by the door, watching his boss carefully.

"Everything is set. Morales still thinks you're vulnerable," Mark informed him as Yoongi got into the car.

Yoongi scoffed. "Then let's teach him what a mistake that is."

Day 2 - The First Kill

Javier Morales was a fool.

The man thought he could play games with Suga-thought he could take Yoongi's trade routes, his power, and his influence. But Morales made the biggest mistake of his life when he underestimated a man with nothing left to lose.

Yoongi stood in the dimly lit warehouse, surrounded by his men and Morales's captured soldiers. The scent of blood and gasoline filled the air. The hostages knelt on the floor, their wrists tied behind their backs, terror written across their faces.

Yoongi knelt in front of one of them, a smirk playing at his lips.

"You look scared," he murmured, brushing a gloved hand through his hair before gripping the man's throat tightly. The hostage gasped, his body trembling.

"Please-don't-" the man choked.

Yoongi's smile disappeared. In one swift movement, he pulled out a knife and slashed the man's throat, watching as blood poured onto the concrete floor. He wiped the blade against his sleeve, standing up.

"Did I ask for begging?" he sighed. "No. I want answers."

He turned to Morales, who was tied to a chair, beaten beyond recognition. The man's breathing was ragged, his one eye swollen shut.

"You made a mistake," Yoongi said, crouching in front of him. "You thought I'd be distracted. That love had made me soft." He chuckled darkly. "It didn't."

Morales coughed up blood, shaking his head. "You're insane."

Yoongi's expression turned cold. "No, I just have nothing left to lose."

He pulled out a gun fitted with a silencer and pressed it against Morales's temple. The man's breathing grew rapid.

"P-please..."

Yoongi tilted his head. "Pathetic." And then-bang.

Blood splattered across the walls.

He turned to his men. "Burn this place down. I don't want a single trace of him left."

Day 3 - The Meeting

The underworld in Spain was shifting, and Yoongi was at the center of it.

Sitting at the head of a long, polished table, he swirled a glass of whiskey in his hand as a group of cartel leaders eyed him warily.

"You took down Morales in two days," one of them finally spoke. "That was... fast."

Yoongi chuckled, placing his glass down. "I don't waste time."

The room was tense. No one had expected him to take over so quickly, and now, they all feared him.

"You want to control Spain, Min?" another man asked, watching him carefully.

Yoongi leaned forward, his smirk sharp as a blade. "I don't want to control Spain," he said. "I already do."

The room fell silent. The message was clear-they could fall in line, or they could end up like Morales.

Day 4 - A Massacre

A betrayal came at 3 a.m.

Yoongi was in his hotel room when the gunfire started. The bastards thought they could take him out while he slept.

Big mistake.

With deadly precision, Yoongi grabbed his M4 rifle and stormed out, shooting two men in the head before they could react. His men were already engaged in the fight, bullets flying as bodies fell.

Yoongi moved through the chaos like a ghost of death.

A man lunged at him with a knife-Yoongi dodged, grabbed his wrist, and twisted until he heard the sickening crack of bones breaking. Then, without hesitation, he shot him in the gut and let him bleed out.

By the time the gunfire stopped, not a single one of his enemies was left alive.

Standing amidst the bodies, Yoongi exhaled, his heart completely numb.

"Burn it all," he ordered, stepping over the corpses as if they were nothing more than trash.

---

Day 5 - A Warning

Yoongi didn't just kill his enemies. He made examples out of them.

The last remaining members of Morales's cartel were tied to chairs in an abandoned building. Their eyes were filled with terror as Yoongi paced in front of them, a blood-stained baseball bat resting on his shoulder.

"I could kill you quickly," Yoongi mused, inspecting the weapon. "But where's the fun in that?"

He stopped in front of the first man and swung the bat hard. The sickening sound of bones shattering filled the room as the man screamed in agony.

"Shouldn't have betrayed me," Yoongi murmured.

The next few minutes were filled with nothing but screams and the sound of breaking bones.

By the time Yoongi left the building, the men inside were unrecognizable. He tossed the bat aside, his hands still covered in blood.

"You know what to do," he said to Mark.

That night, the mutilated bodies were delivered to their former allies as a message.

"Defy me, and you die worse than this."

---

Day 6 - The Returns

Sitting in the private jet back to South Korea, Yoongi stared at his reflection in the window.

His hands had been stained with so much blood in just six days.

He had burned down entire empires. He had shattered men's skulls with his own hands. He had become something darker, something even more terrifying than before.

And yet-Jimin's face still haunted him.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small locket. Inside was Jimin's photo.

His jaw clenched. "Why do I still care?" he whispered, his voice laced with frustration.

He had turned into a monster.

But deep inside, there was still a part of him that longed for something else. Something he could never have again.

Or so he thought.

---

Jimin sat on the plush couch, hands gripping a warm cup of tea as he stared into its depths. The soft hum of the evening breeze filtered through the open balcony, but the peace outside did nothing to ease the storm inside him.

Across from him, Taehyung and Jungkook sat in silent anticipation. They had sensed something was off for days, but now, as Jimin prepared to unravel his truth, a quiet tension settled over the room.

Jimin exhaled slowly, trying to steady his racing heart. "I need to tell you both something."

His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of an entire world collapsing. He looked up, meeting their expectant gazes, and found the courage to begin.

"It's about Yoongi… about everything that happened between us."

And so, he told them.

He spoke of the misunderstandings, the pain, the divorce papers that had nearly shattered him. He laid bare the agony of believing Yoongi had given up on them, of the emptiness that had filled his days.

And then, he spoke of Kai.

As soon as he uttered the name, Taehyung’s body tensed, his hands curling into fists. Jungkook’s face darkened, the warmth in his usual demeanor replaced with a dangerous stillness.

"He hurt me," Jimin admitted, his voice trembling. "He tried to force me… but Yoongi—Yoongi saved me before it was too late."

Taehyung shot up from his seat, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked painful. "That bastard—!"

Jungkook, usually the calmer of the two, had a deadly glint in his eyes. "Where is he now?" His tone was eerily even, but the unspoken promise of violence lingered beneath it.

Jimin shook his head. "He's gone. Yoongi… took care of it."

The silence that followed was thick with understanding. They all knew what "took care of it" meant in Yoongi’s world.

Taehyung sat back down, running a hand through his hair. "I can't believe you went through all of this alone."

Jimin offered a small, sad smile. "I thought I could handle it. But now… I just feel lost."

Jungkook leaned forward, his expression softening. "Jimin, you don't have to go through this alone anymore. We’re here."

Jimin blinked back the tears threatening to fall. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear that.

"Thank you," he whispered.

That night, they stayed with him—talking, listening, and simply being there. The weight on his chest felt a little lighter.

But even as the night stretched on, one thought remained at the forefront of Jimin’s mind.

Where was Yoongi now? And what kind of man would return to him after six days in darkness?

As the first golden rays of the sun stretched across the horizon, Jimin's eyes fluttered open. A warmth spread through his chest, a gentle excitement tingling beneath his skin. Today wasn’t just any day—it was special, a moment he had been waiting for.

He lay in bed for a moment, letting the feeling sink in. His heart raced at the thought of his husband’s arrival, a soft smile playing on his lips.

With a deep breath, he pushed back the covers and rose to his feet. His morning routine took on a different meaning today—each action felt precise, purposeful. The simple act of washing his face, combing his hair, and choosing what to wear held a significance that made his heart flutter.

Jimin stood before his wardrobe, his fingers brushing over the fabrics with care. It has to be perfect. He selected his favorite outfit—a soft, elegant combination that made him feel confident.

He smoothed out the fabric, glancing at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes shone with excitement, and the corner of his lips twitched up as he imagined how Yoongi would react.

The thought made his stomach flip.

Would Yoongi be surprised? Would he smile in that quiet, rare way that made Jimin’s heart ache?

A small chuckle escaped him as he shook his head. Of course, he would.

Taking a deep breath, Jimin grabbed the small box he had hidden away for weeks. Inside, a delicate ring rested, shining under the soft light.

It wasn’t extravagant, but it was meaningful. It carried the weight of everything he wanted to say, of everything he felt for Yoongi.

His fingers curled around the box as he whispered to himself, “I hope you’ll say yes.”

With one last glance at the mirror, he turned and stepped out, making his way toward the place he had been secretly preparing for days.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐌𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

The secluded location was just as he had envisioned it—hidden away from the noise of the world, touched only by nature’s beauty.

The trees stretched high, their leaves swaying gently in the cool morning breeze. Flowers bloomed in soft colors, painting the ground with their delicate presence.

Jimin had spent days preparing this place, making sure every detail was perfect. Fairy lights twinkled above, woven between the branches, casting a warm glow even under the daylight. A small table stood in the center, draped in soft fabric, with candles carefully arranged around it.

He ran his fingers over the decorations, adjusting a few things, making sure everything was just right.

His heart pounded, a mix of excitement and nervousness swirling within him. He had never done something like this before. What if Yoongi thought it was too much? What if—

Jimin took a deep breath, shaking the doubt away.

No. This was right. This was love.

And soon, the man he loved would be here.

Yoongi stepped into the Min mansion, his sharp eyes scanning the familiar space. It had been a week since he left for Spain, and in that time, he had drowned himself in work, bloodshed, and cold efficiency—anything to keep his mind from the weight of his crumbling marriage.

He had sent Jimin the divorce papers before he left. It was supposed to be over.

Yet, as he stepped into the grand hallway, something felt... off. The house wasn’t empty. The faint scent of Jimin’s favorite vanilla and musk lingered in the air. The space didn’t feel abandoned.

His brows furrowed.

Jimin should have been gone by now.

His steps were slow but purposeful as he made his way upstairs. His fingers twitched slightly, a strange sensation of unease creeping up his spine. He wasn’t a man who let emotions rule him, but right now, uncertainty gnawed at him.

When he reached their shared bedroom, he hesitated for a fraction of a second before pushing the door open.

The sight before him made him freeze.

Jimin’s clothes were still in the closet. His books were still on the nightstand. A faint warmth in the air told him someone had been here just moments ago.

And then his eyes landed on the bedside table.

A neatly placed envelope.

His name was written on it in Jimin’s delicate handwriting.

Frowning, Yoongi stepped forward and picked it up. His fingers traced over the ink before he flipped it open.

H

is heart skipped a beat. Jimin left a letter?

With slightly trembling fingers, he picked it up and unfolded the paper inside.

"Yoongi, if you're reading this, then it means you've come home and found me missing. But don't worry, I'm not far. There's something important I want to share with you—something I’ve been preparing for a while now. Come find me at the place I marked on this map. I’ll be waiting."

Yoongi's lips parted slightly, reading the words over again. Something important?

Yoongi stood frozen, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes took in the scene before him.

The secluded place, once unfamiliar to him, now looked like something out of a dream—vibrant decorations adorned every corner, fairy lights twinkling softly against the setting sun, petals scattered on the ground as if leading the way to something beautiful. A table stood in the center, candles flickering gently in the breeze, two chairs positioned opposite each other.

It was intimate, romantic… carefully planned.

Yet something was wrong.

Jimin wasn’t here.

Yoongi’s brows knitted together, confusion settling deep in his chest. The air was thick with an eerie silence, the kind that didn’t belong in a setting meant for love. His gaze flickered over every detail—the way the table was perfectly set, the way the decorations had been placed with care.

Jimin had done this.

For him.

Then why wasn’t he here?

Yoongi’s throat tightened as he took a slow step forward. His pulse quickened, unease creeping up his spine like a slow-moving poison.

“Jimin?” His voice was rough, uncertain. The name barely escaped his lips before it was swallowed by the emptiness around him.

No answer.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on edge.

His sharp eyes darted around, scanning every corner, looking for any sign—anything that could tell him where Jimin was. But there was nothing. Just the carefully set decorations and the aching silence that filled the air.

Then he saw it.

A small, black device, carefully hidden but just visible enough to catch his attention. A camera.

Yoongi’s stomach dropped.

His fingers wrapped tightly around the device as he pulled it free, pressing the small button to play the last recorded footage. His breath came out slow, controlled, though his heart was hammering in his chest.

The screen flickered to life.

And the world around him stopped.

Jimin appeared on the screen, dressed in his finest clothes, his face glowing with happiness. The video started with him adjusting the decorations, his soft laughter filling the space. His fingers lingered on the tablecloth, as if imagining what was about to happen.

Then he turned to the camera.

“If you’re watching this, Yoongi… I just want to say, I—”

A loud crash.

Jimin’s face twisted in fear.

Yoongi watched, frozen, as shadows moved in the background. Figures emerged from the darkness, fast, merciless. Jimin barely had time to turn before rough hands grabbed him, a sharp cry leaving his lips as he struggled against their hold.

His breath hitched.

The camera wobbled violently, the screen shaking as Jimin fought, his terrified voice echoing through the speakers.

“Let me go—Yoongi! Yoongi, help me—!”

A sickening crack.

Jimin’s body went limp.

Yoongi’s grip on the camera tightened dangerously, his knuckles turning white. His jaw clenched so hard it ached, his breath coming out in slow, deliberate exhales.

The last thing the video showed was a pair of shoes stepping into view. A smooth, unfamiliar voice chuckled.

“Let’s see if your husband is as dangerous as they say.”

And then—darkness.

The video ended.

Yoongi stood still for a long moment.

Then he inhaled sharply, his hands trembling—not with fear, but with rage.

His mind went blank. Every ounce of restraint he had built over the years snapped in half, torn apart by the raw, burning fury coursing through his veins.

Jimin had been taken.

By someone who thought they could challenge him.

Yoongi’s head tilted slightly, his dark eyes gleaming with something cold. Something dangerous.

They wanted to see if he was dangerous?

Fine.

They were about to find out exactly what kind of monster they had awakened.

Yoongi’s grip on the steering wheel was so tight his knuckles turned white. The city lights blurred past him as he sped through the streets, his mind consumed with nothing but Jimin. The video kept replaying in his head—the way Jimin had struggled, the fear in his eyes, the sick laughter of the kidnappers.

His foot pressed harder on the gas.

Hobi was already waiting for him at the meeting point, dressed in black, his expression sharp with focus. He didn’t need to ask anything—Yoongi’s face said it all.

“They left an address,” Yoongi said, his voice like steel.

Hobi nodded. “Then let’s not waste time.”

The drive to the mansion was silent, both men focused, their thoughts deadly.

When they finally arrived, the sight of the grand, looming structure filled Yoongi with fury. The mansion stood in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by tall iron gates, dimly lit under the moon.

Hobi glanced at Yoongi. “How do you want to do this?”

Yoongi pulled out his gun, checking the bullets with practiced ease.

“We’re not knocking.”

Hobi smirked. “Didn’t think so.”

Without another word, they slipped through the gates, moving through the shadows. Years of experience had trained them for moments like this. The guards stationed outside didn’t even have time to react before Yoongi and Hobi took them down silently.

As they reached the main doors, Yoongi didn’t hesitate—he kicked them open with a force that sent them crashing against the walls.

Yoongi's hands curled into fists, his patience wearing thin. His glare burned into the man sitting leisurely on the couch, as if he were entertaining a guest rather than facing the wrath of a furious mafia boss.

The man smirked, swirling the whiskey in his glass before taking a slow sip. “Oh, you’re so early. Come, have a seat,” he drawled, his tone dripping with arrogance.

Yoongi’s jaw clenched. “We’re not here for pleasantries,” he spat. His voice was sharp, filled with barely contained rage. He took a threatening step forward.

“Just fucking tell me where my husband is, you bastard.”

The man remained infuriatingly calm, his posture relaxed, as if Yoongi’s presence didn’t unnerve him in the slightest. “Calm down, Mr. Mafia.” He exhaled, setting his glass down. “He’s fine now. Sit. We’ve got something important to discuss.”

Yoongi’s body trembled with fury, but he forced himself to hold back—for now. He shot a glance at Hobi, who gave him a subtle nod, urging him to listen first. With great reluctance, Yoongi sat, though his fists remained clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Hobi took the seat beside him, his muscles tense, ready to strike at any moment.

Yoongi’s voice was a low growl. “What do you want to talk about? And why the hell did you kidnap my husband?”

The man leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips. “Well,” he started, his fingers tapping lazily against the armrest, “since you’re so curious, I suppose I’ll tell you.”

FLASHBACK

The sleek black car pulled up in front of a dimly lit club, its engine humming before falling silent. The neon lights flickered against the glossy exterior as the door opened, and a tall, well-dressed man stepped out. His shoes clicked against the pavement as he adjusted the cufflinks on his expensive suit.

“Sir, we’re here,” his subordinate informed him.

The man gave a small nod before striding into the club with purpose. The heavy bass of the music vibrated through the air, mingling with the scent of alcohol and smoke. He headed straight for the VIP corner, settling into a plush leather couch.

With a flick of his fingers, he ordered a drink, his sharp eyes scanning the room. His gaze drifted lazily over the bustling club until it landed on something—someone—who immediately captured his interest.

A boy.

Slender, delicate, and heartbreakingly beautiful.

The boy moved with an effortless grace, his body swaying as he prepared for his performance. The moment the music shifted, he took the stage, and everything else faded into the background.

His movements were fluid, every step precise, every sway intoxicating. The way he carried himself, the emotions he poured into his dance—it was impossible to look away.

The man leaned forward, intrigued. His drink sat forgotten on the table as his eyes followed every movement of the boy’s body.

When the performance ended, the boy disappeared behind the curtain, only to reappear moments later behind the bar, now dressed in more casual clothes. He worked swiftly, mixing drinks with skill, his delicate hands moving with practiced ease.

But the serene moment didn’t last long.

A group of men, clearly drunk and unruly, approached the bar. Their voices were loud, their laughter obnoxious. The way they leaned too close, their hands reaching out—anyone could tell they were up to no good.

The boy’s polite smile wavered as he tried to step back, but one of the men grabbed his wrist.

“Come on, sweetheart, give us a little show,” one of them slurred, tugging him forward.

The boy tried to yank his arm back. “Please let go,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

“Don’t be shy,” another man chuckled, inching closer.

Just as things were about to take a turn for the worse, someone stepped in.

A young man, about the same age as the boy, moved in front of him, his stance protective. His eyes were sharp, his presence unwavering.

“Back off,” the newcomer said, his voice cold.

The drunk men sneered, clearly displeased by the interference. “And who the fuck are you?” one of them spat.

The young man didn’t respond. Instead, he grabbed the wrist of the man holding the boy and twisted it sharply. A loud, painful yelp cut through the air as the man stumbled back, cradling his arm.

The fight broke out instantly.

Fists flew, chairs toppled, and glass shattered as the club erupted into chaos.

The boss, still seated in his VIP corner, watched with quiet amusement. His eyes flickered between the two boys—the beautiful dancer and his fierce protector.

Interesting.

Once the commotion settled, the boss turned to his subordinate, speaking in a low, calculated voice. “Who is that boy?”

His subordinate followed his gaze before responding, “Sir, he works here as a dancer and a bartender. He also does some odd jobs around the club.”

The boss hummed in thought, his lips curling into a smirk. “Find out everything about him.”

The subordinate nodded. “Understood.”

The boss’s eyes gleamed as he watched the boy disappear into the back room, his interest piqued.

“Follow him wherever he goes,” he continued. “Document his actions. Find out where he lives, who he meets… I want every single detail you can uncover.”

His subordinate bowed slightly. “It will be done.”

The boss leaned back, swirling the whiskey in his glass before taking a sip.

“I have a feeling this boy is special,” he murmured to himself.

END OF FLASHBACK

Yoongi’s fingers dug into his palms as he listened to the story.

His blood boiled.

This bastard had been watching Jimin for a long time. He had been planning something from the beginning.

Hobi was the first to speak, his voice sharp. “So that’s why you took him? Because he caught your attention?”

The man smirked. “Oh, no. That was just the start.”

Yoongi’s patience finally snapped. He shot up from his seat, grabbing the man by the collar and yanking him forward. Their faces were inches apart, Yoongi’s dark eyes blazing with fury.

“Where. Is. He?” Yoongi growled, his voice low and lethal.

The man chuckled, completely unfazed. “Oh, you’ll find out soon enough.”

A slow, taunting smirk stretched across his lips.

“But whether you get to take him home alive… well, that depends on how much you’re willing to play.”