The room fell silent after the fight. The echo of fists and breath still lingering in the air.

Jungkook stepped closer to her, eyes unreadable now—steel behind velvet, control beneath chaos.

“You’ve got claws,” he said simply.

“But fire alone isn’t enough.”

He walked back to his desk, poured another glass of whiskey, and turned slightly toward her.

“If you want to work with me… you follow my rules.”

His voice was calm, but laced with ice.

“You break all contact with your people. No visits. No calls. No hidden messages through pigeons or magic mirrors—I don’t care how.”

He took a slow sip, watching her from over the rim.

“You stay here. You train daily. You bleed daily. You become one of us—or you leave in a body bag.”

Yn didn’t speak. Just listened, lips pressed tight.

“You meet no one without my permission,” he added, sharper now.

“If I find out you’re hiding anything, I won’t ask twice. I’ll put a bullet in your skull and forget your name.”

She didn’t flinch. Just exhaled slowly.

“Anything else?” she asked.

Jungkook’s gaze darkened.

“You’re the only woman here. I don’t want drama, weakness, or distractions. You hold your ground. You earn your place. Or you don’t walk out.”

A pause.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

There was a long silence. Then—

Yn shook her head.

“No problem,” she said quietly. “But I need to inform my aunt. She raised me. She deserves to know I’m not disappearing into the dark.”

Jungkook studied her. For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—interest, maybe. Or suspicion.

He nodded once.

“Fine. But you go with my men. You’ll return in one hour.”

He turned to one of the guards.

“Take her back. No blindfold. She already knows the way—no point in insulting her brain.”

Yn raised a brow, slightly amused.

“How thoughtful of you.”

He smirked.

“I’m not thoughtful. I’m tactical.”

As she walked out with the guards, Jungkook’s smile faded. His voice dropped into ice as he turned to his right-hand man, Taehyun.

“Dig into her background. Everything.”

Taehyun nodded instantly.

“Already on it, boss.”

Jungkook stood by the window now, hands behind his back, staring into the deep woods surrounding the mansion.

“I want to know who she’s lived with, who’s dead around her, who she’s lied to, and who might come knocking for her.”

He glanced at his man.

“I’m not insane. And I’m not desperate. If she’s from Wolf Syndicate, I’ll bury her before she takes a second breath under my roof.”

Taehyun nodded.

“She doesn’t seem like one of them.”

“That’s exactly why I’m suspicious,” Jungkook muttered.

His voice dropped lower.

“Even angels have knives in this world.”

The car slowed to a stop outside the small, worn-down house she once called home. The same place where blood had once stained her shirt, where nightmares were born, and where—somehow—warmth had found her through a woman she never asked for.

Yn stepped out silently.

No blindfold. No fear.

The forest wind brushed against her hair, her face half-shadowed under the hood of her jacket. The guards stayed behind, giving her the illusion of privacy—but she knew eyes were always watching now.

She knocked.

Mrs. Kang opened the door, eyes widening the moment she saw her.

“Yn…”

Yn looked at her—really looked at her. The faint wrinkles, the tired eyes, the apron tied around her waist like always. The woman who once found her broken and bleeding and chose her, loved her, fought for her.

“Are you okay? Where were you? I was so worried—”

“I’m leaving,” Yn said softly.

Mrs. Kang froze.

“W-What?”

Yn stepped inside, closing the door behind her. The warmth of the home suddenly felt distant.

“I found someone,” she whispered. “Someone who can help me… find him.”

Mrs. Kang’s hands trembled. She sat down slowly, like her knees were giving up.

“You mean… the man who…?”

Yn nodded.

“Yes. The one who destroyed everything. It’s taken years, but I found a way.”

Mrs. Kang looked at her—tears already gathering in her eyes.

“And this way… does it mean danger? Pain? Death?”

Yn’s jaw clenched. She didn’t answer.

“You’re walking into the dark, Yn,” the woman said, voice cracking. “And you might not return.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” Yn replied coldly. “Not until he’s dead.”

Mrs. Kang stood up and cupped her cheek gently.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“You never had me,” Yn said softly. “Not really. I’ve been gone since that night.”

Silence.

A long pause, broken only by Mrs. Kang’s quiet sob.

Then she did something Yn didn’t expect—she smiled through her tears and nodded once.

“Then go. If this is what will give your heart peace… go.”

Yn looked down. Her throat tightened. Her hands clenched.

She wanted to say thank you.

She wanted to say she loved her.

But the words never came.

Instead, she turned around, opened the door, and left.

No looking back.

The car door shut behind her.

And the forest swallowed her whole.

Back at the Mansion

Jungkook was in his office when he heard the engine outside. He looked up from a glass of bourbon.

“She’s back,” Taehyun said, walking in.

“Did you get what I asked for?”

Taehyun handed him a file.

“Everything. You were right—her name is lee Yn Or you can say yn Kang, unofficially adopted by Mrs. Kang. The parents? Murdered. Brutally. Case closed due to ‘lack of evidence’... but I dug deeper.”

He handed Jungkook a photo. A man. Wrist tattooed with a wolf. Face marked with a deep scar.

“Name's choi Dae-Hyun. One of the top enforcers in the Wolf Syndicate. Known for killing entire families on orders.”

Jungkook's eyes narrowed. He didn't took a day to find the man who killed her parents but now he has to find where he is?

“So it’s real…”

He stared at the photo for a long time.

Then, slowly, a smile crept across his lips.

“She has no idea what she’s stepped into.”

He dropped the file on the table.

“Bring her to me.”

Jungkook sat in the shadows of his office, only the glow from the single lamp on his desk casting long, haunting lines across his face.

He was silent, holding the photograph in his hand—the scarred man with the wolf tattoo. The ghost from Yn’s past.

Taehyun stood nearby, arms crossed, his face stoic.

“Should we tell her?” he asked finally.

Jungkook’s jaw ticked as he leaned back in his chair. The leather creaked under his weight.

“No.”

His voice was cold, final.

“She’s too desperate. Rage like hers doesn’t make killers—it makes corpses.”

He tossed the photo onto the desk.

“If she finds out now, she’ll run in blind. One mistake… and that bastard gets away again. Or worse—she gets herself killed.”

He swirled the whiskey in his glass, staring into the amber liquid like it held answers.

“We need a full, solid plan. Tactical. Clean. He’s not just a murderer, Taehyun—he’s a ranking enforcer in the Wolf Syndicate. If we touch him, we start a war.”

Taehyun nodded slowly, eyes sharp.

“But she remembers him.”

Jungkook gave a short, humorless laugh.

“Yeah. It’s almost amusing.”

He stood, walking toward the window, looking out into the night. The mansion lights flickered across the dark grounds.

“You know how rare that is?” he said quietly. “Trauma like that—most kids would block it out. Dissociate. Forget to survive.”

“But not her,” Taehyun murmured.

Jungkook nodded once.

“No. Not her. She clung to it. Every detail. The scar. The tattoo. The blood. She remembered because she needed to.”

He turned back, eyes like razors.

“That kind of memory—it comes from obsession. From hate that never dies.”

He paused, then looked toward the door.

“She’s not ready. But she will be.”

Taehyun tilted his head.

“You’re planning to use her?”

“I’m planning to sharpen her,” Jungkook corrected. “Until she’s not just a girl with a grudge... she becomes something they fear.”

He smirked slightly.

“Let the Wolf Syndicate howl all they want. When I unleash her, she won’t knock—she’ll tear them apart from the inside.”

Jungkook stood at the head of the long, obsidian table in the war room.

Behind him, the fireplace burned low—casting shadows on the thick stone walls. The chandelier above flickered slightly. The air inside wasn’t cold. It was sharp. Like walking into a loaded gun.

“Call them,” he said.

Taehyun nodded once and stepped away to make the call.

Within the hour, the room filled.

Namjoon—tall, intellectual, eyes like steel traps. The strategist.

Yoongi—leaning against the wall, dressed in all black, silent. The man who killed without sound or mercy.

Hoseok—smiling, but the glint in his eye was madness. The executioner.

Jimin—charming, seductive, but deadly. The perfect illusion.

Taehyung—cold beauty, a cigarette in his hand, watching everything with lazy amusement. The manipulator.

Jin—silent, clean-cut, clinical. The doctor. But not the kind that saves lives.

The BTS mafia core.

Each one had taken lives. Each one trusted only Jungkook.

And now—he was bringing a stranger among them.

The door opened.

Yn walked in, escorted by two guards. She wore black—combat boots, tight jeans, a simple hoodie. Her eyes were sharp, guarded. Her chin high.

But still… she was walking into a room of monsters.

A room of kings built on bones.

She felt it in her bones—their gazes slicing through her like razors.

Jungkook didn’t flinch. He stood there, calm, dominant.

“This,” he said, voice echoing, “is Yn.”

No one spoke.

“She’s here under me.”

Hoseok smirked. “Under you, huh? Already?” yn stare at him basically killing him from her eyes.

Jungkook gave him a look that could kill. Hoseok laughed it off.

Jungkook’s tone didn’t shift. It stayed cold.

“She has a purpose here. She’s not a toy. She’s not a guest. She’s a weapon in the making.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “She’s not one of us.”

“Yet,” Jungkook replied. “But she will be.”

Taehyung tilted his head at her. “Does she bleed like us?”

Yn’s voice was low. “I’ve already bled more than most of you combined.”

The room fell silent.

Even Namjoon blinked.

Jungkook turned to her—watching.

“Tell them why you’re here.”

She looked at each of them in the eye. No flinch. No fear.

“Revenge,” she said. “The man who killed my family… I’m going to find him. I’m going to carve my name into his flesh before I end him.”

A long pause.

Then Jimin chuckled. “Well… she’s fun.”

Jungkook finally spoke.

“She stays. She trains. She follows my rules.”

He looked directly at her.

“You don’t answer to anyone but me. You don’t breathe without my permission. One mistake, and you won’t walk out of this place alive.”

“I don’t intend to walk out,” she whispered. “Not until it’s done.”

The room was still.

Then Namjoon nodded once.

“Welcome to our world, Yn.”

And just like that, it began.

The room was still.

Too still.

Yn’s voice had sliced through the thick air like a blade.

"I'll do whatever you want—but that doesn’t mean I’m your slave."

She looked straight at Jungkook. Unwavering. Unblinking.

“I have my own demons. My own reasons to survive. And I don’t want you to interfere in them.”

The room went dead silent.

The kind of silence that made blood feel loud in your ears.

Jimin's smirk dropped.

Yoongi stopped chewing his toothpick.

Namjoon’s brows lifted in surprise.

Taehyung blinked, then tilted his head like he’d just found a wild animal that didn’t know it was being hunted.

Hoseok’s fingers flexed—ready to move if Jungkook snapped.

Because everyone knew what came next.

No one talked to Jungkook like that.

He was the man who carved out a man’s eye for rolling it at him.

He was the king of this brutal underworld.

And she—this girl—just dared to burn him with her tongue.

Jungkook didn’t move.

He stared at her.

Unreadable.

Stone still.

Then—slowly—he stepped down from the table dais, each step echoing like a countdown. He walked toward her, his black boots heavy on the marble.

One step.

Two.

Three.

Until he stood right in front of her.

His eyes were dark. Deadly.

Then—he leaned in.

His breath ghosted across her jaw.

“You have guts,” he whispered, voice soft but laced with iron. “But don’t mistake my patience for mercy.”

His fingers ghosted over her jaw—not caressing, but testing her reaction. She didn’t flinch. She stared back.

“If I wanted a slave,” he murmured, “you’d already be on your knees.”

He leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing her ear.

“But I don’t want obedience. I want loyalty. You give me that—freely, completely—and I won’t interfere in your demons… I’ll feed them.”

He pulled back.

A cruel smirk flickered on his lips.

“But test me again in front of my men…” he said quietly, deadly, “and they’ll watch me break that fire in your eyes. Inch by inch.”

He stepped away—cold king back to his throne.

“You want freedom?” he said, voice louder now, looking at the rest of the men. “Earn it.”

“Survive here. Prove you’re not just a storm in a teacup.”

He sat, draping his arm lazily over the chair.

“Then maybe… just maybe… I’ll give you the war you want.”

The others glanced at each other—shocked he let her live.

But Jungkook wasn’t just interested in breaking her.

He was starting to enjoy the thought of owning her flame.

The air was sharp with unspoken threats.

Yn stood in the center of the room, her voice low—but it echoed louder than gunfire.

“Next time…” she said, her tone like cracked ice, “Dare to touch me—to lay even a finger on me…”

Her eyes swept across the room. Cold. Deadly.

“You’ll become handless.”

She took a single step forward. A warning.

“I’ll chop your fingers into tiny pieces and feed them to the dogs. One. By. One.”

The silence was stifling.

The BTS members—men who had slit throats and burned entire families—shivered.

Shivered.

Not because of fear. But because they sensed it now.

She wasn’t an ordinary girl.

She wasn’t even just dangerous.

She was capable.

“Holy shit,” Jimin muttered under his breath, his usual charm replaced with something bordering on admiration—and wariness.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes, as if reassessing her completely.

Even Namjoon leaned back, tapping his fingers thoughtfully, his mind already recalculating.

Jungkook…

He sat on his throne.

Watching her.

Still.

Unmoving.

But inside?

He was grinning.

Not visibly—but internally, something dark in him stirred.

“She’s not fire,” he thought. “She’s goddamn lightning with no leash.”

He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, eyes gleaming with something wicked and intrigued.

“That was your second warning,” he said softly. “And the last one you’ll get.”

“No one threatens me in my house, Yn.”

“But,” he added, his smirk ghosting across his face, “I like the way you do it.”

The atmosphere cracked like thunder.

It wasn’t hate between them.

Not exactly.

It was fire meeting gasoline.

And everyone else in the room knew one thing:

Either she would die here… or she would rise to become one of the most feared names in the underworld.

To be continued.... The two storms collapsed each other. Where the destruction lead them?? Like and comment to know.