Chapter Text
The war room was heavy with tension, the kind that made every man in it razor-edged and trigger-ready. Jungkook sat at the head of the long table, Yoongi to his right, Taehyung and Namjoon flanking the other side. Maps, weapons, and half-drunk glasses of whiskey littered the surface between them. The sudden slam of the double doors bursting open made the entire table whip around in unison...four sets of hands snapping to holsters, guns raised before thought even caught up.
The air was taut with the metallic tang of adrenaline, barrels trained on the figure in the doorway… until recognition hit. The man stumbled forward...one of Jimin’s assigned bodyguards...his suit jacket soaked with blood down one arm and side. The crimson gleam made every instinct scream “fatal,” but Jungkook’s eyes were already dissecting the wound and seeing it wasn’t immediately life-ending. Guns lowered, but not entirely; the rage in the room didn’t dissipate so easily.
His breathing came in ragged, wet pulls, and there was a tremor in his voice when he spoke, “Boss...! The omegas...gunfire...white van...”
For a heartbeat, Jungkook didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
The world narrowed to a single, ringing point of silence in his skull.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
The word wasn’t thought...it was instinct, raw and primal, howled from the marrow of his bones
The next second, the fuse inside him caught.
The heavy oak table in front of him went over in one violent shove, glass and porcelain shattering against the floor in a spray that made the men in the room flinch back. The sound was sharp, but his voice was sharper.
“WHO.”
Not a question...a demand, guttural and inhuman, like something that belonged in a forest at night with blood on its teeth.
“WHO TOOK THEM?!”
The guard flinched, but his voice broke through the chaos. “Moonfang...Alistar’s men...a white van...came out of nowhere...” His breathing hitched. “I noticed the guy driving... before I got shot...he's one of Alistar Petrov's security men.”
The temperature in the room plummeted.
Jungkook’s vision tunneled, the war room dissolving into red haze. His omega was out there, in enemy hands...or worse. The thought slammed into him like a bullet to the chest. His pulse roared in his ears, primal rage curling in his gut, spilling into every muscle.
Yoongi’s reaction was pure predator. His eyes sharpened to slits, every ounce of civility stripped away. He leaned forward on the table, both hands splayed, knuckles pressing into the polished wood. “I’ll gut them alive,” he whispered, and it didn’t sound like a threat. It sounded like a vow.
Namjoon’s mouth was a tight line, his hand resting heavy on his gun as if ready to start the killing now. Taehyung’s expression was ice, but his finger tapped once, twice, against his thigh...a tic he only had when his instincts were screaming for blood.
“They… they shot us...me and the other guard. He didn't make it...” the man stammered, eyes darting between the two alphas. “One was dragging Jimin...he fought him...he hit Jimin... Wearing masks...”
That was all he managed before Jungkook was on him. His hand clamped around the man’s throat, pinning him to the wall so hard the plaster cracked.
“You had one job,” Jungkook growled, the words vibrating with lethal intent. His grip tightened, forcing a choked gasp from the man. “One. Job. To keep him safe. And you...couldn’t...even...”
The rest dissolved into a snarl that rattled the air. He released the guard with a shove that left the man stumbling, clutching at his throat.
Jungkook picked up a chair and threw it, the sound of metal on marble echoing like a gunshot. His gun was in his hand again, but this time it was aimed at the faceless bastards who dared touch what was his.
Inside his head, there was no strategy, no politics...just the instinct to hunt, to destroy, to take back what was his no matter the body count.
Yoongi’s lips pulled back in something that wasn’t a smile. “Get the cellar ready,” he told no one in particular, already walking out. His voice was so cold it burned. “We’re going to need the pliers.”
Jungkook didn’t even wait for the room to clear before barking orders. “Gear up. Ten minutes. Anyone not ready, I’ll leave you behind.”
The war room exploded into motion, but under the chaos was one unshakable truth: the Nocturne Syndicate wasn’t going to war.
They were going hunting.
_________________________
The heavy steel door to the cellar groaned loudly as Jungkook and Yoongi pushed it open, stepping into the dim, cavernous space beneath the mansion. The air was thick with the cold scent of metal and oil, faintly tinged with something darker...a history of violence etched into every cracked concrete wall and shadowed corner.
Rows upon rows of weapons were meticulously arranged on racks: gleaming brass knuckles that caught the weak light like promises of broken bones, thick leather ropes coiled tightly and hanging ready, pliers with blunt edges stained from past use, serrated knives that glinted wickedly, and an assortment of chains and blunt instruments whose sole purpose was to inflict pain.
Jungkook’s breath hitched slightly, the cool air filling his lungs but doing nothing to steady the storm raging beneath his skin. His fingers closed tightly around a pair of heavy brass knuckles, the cold metal pressing firmly into his palm...solid, unyielding, like the promise he made to himself and his omega. His wolf stirred, coiling tighter beneath his skin, a low growl vibrating deep in his mind. Every muscle tensed, every nerve screamed in anticipation of the hunt to come. Blood. Fire. Revenge.
Yoongi moved beside him with practiced precision, his movements deliberate and calm, a sharp contrast to the tempest inside Jungkook. He checked the edges of his knives, loaded pistols with silent expertise, and arranged his tools with surgical focus. Yet, in his eyes, a savage light flickered...a rage barely contained beneath the surface, ready to erupt at the first scent of their prey.
Glancing over at Jungkook, Yoongi’s voice was low and fierce, almost a vow whispered in the darkness:
“We don’t let them touch what’s ours. We tear them apart, limb by limb, until they regret ever crossing us.”
The heavy cellar door slammed shut behind them as Namjoon and Taehyung stepped inside.
Namjoon’s face was grim, his dark eyes scanning the weapons with cold calculation as he selected a pump action shot-gun.
Taehyung’s entrance was different. He cracked his knuckles slowly, deliberately, a wild grin creeping over his face, eyes glittering with a strange, hungry light. He ran a fingertip along the edge of a serrated knife, then flicked it open with a sharp click. His voice was a low, rough whisper, rough with dark delight:
“This? This is going to be fun...and messy. So so messy.”
Jungkook’s eyes flicked to him, unamused but aware. Taehyung’s psychotic thrill was a dangerous weapon...unpredictable, yes, but also a brutal edge the Syndicate needed.
Jungkook’s eyes burned with determination, the fire within him now fully ignited.
“Good. Let it get messy.”
Without hesitation, the four men began arming themselves...a synchronized dance of death. No hesitation. No mercy. Only cold, calculated vengeance.
Outside, the city remained oblivious, its pulse steady and unaware of the storm gathering in the shadows...a storm hungry to rend flesh and spill blood in the name of the Nocturne Syndicate’s alpha and his pack.
____________
Jimin’s eyes snapped open with a strangled gasp as a splash of icy water slammed against his face, cutting through the fog of unconsciousness like a jagged blade. His skin prickled, cold droplets running down his cheek, and his throat burned raw from the sudden shock.
Blurry shapes hovered above him, masked faces twisting into cruel smiles in the harsh glare of the flickering fluorescent light. His body protested, weak and tethered...his wrists and ankles bound tightly to the wooden arms and legs of a cold, unforgiving chair.
Turning his head slightly, panic flared when his gaze landed on Hoseok, slumped and unconscious, restrained in the same way just a few feet away. The knot in his stomach twisted tighter.
“Who… who are you? What do you want?” His voice trembled, raw from disuse but desperate for answers, for some scrap of mercy.
The men shared a look, their eyes gleaming with dark amusement before one sneered, voice dripping with malice. “You think you get to ask questions, omega? You’re just a plaything to us now.”
Jimin swallowed hard, heart pounding so fiercely it felt like it might burst through his chest. But then his nose flared, the unmistakable scent cutting through the stale room like a knife...black licorice, sickly sweet and nauseating.
His breath hitched.
The door creaked open behind the men, and a shadow filled the doorway.
Alistar stepped inside, slow and deliberate, every movement radiating dominance and menace. The air around him carried that same cloying licorice scent...twisted and familiar.
Jimin’s body seized up, memories crashing down like a tidal wave...the sterile, suffocating heat room, the overpowering scent, the way Alistar had loomed over him like a dark god ready to devour. The fear, the shame, the helplessness...all flooding back at once.
Before he could stop himself, his stomach clenched violently. He heaved, bile rising uncontrollably as he puked onto the cold concrete floor.
Alistar’s lips curved into a cruel, triumphant smile, eyes cold and merciless as they flicked over Jimin’s trembling form.
“Well, well,” he purred, voice silk laced with venom, “my precious omega remembers me after all. You belong to me now.”
Jimin’s chest tightened, breath shallow and ragged. His wrists burned from the ropes, his legs numb, but it was the terror beneath his skin that clenched him the most.
Hoseok remained limp in his chair, a helpless weight nearby, and Jimin knew if he couldn’t fight, the nightmare would only deepen.
Jimin’s chest rose and fell in uneven, ragged breaths, his lungs burning as adrenaline and pain surged through his body. The ropes bit cruelly into his wrists and ankles, raw skin stinging where the coarse fibers pressed deep, but inside him, a fire was building...fierce, unyielding, defiant.
Alistar loomed over him, the sickly-sweet licorice scent thick in the stale air, curling around Jimin’s senses like a poisonous fog. His cold, merciless eyes locked onto Jimin’s with predatory delight, fingers tracing a mocking, slow path across Jimin’s trembling cheek.
“You remember that night, don’t you?” Alistar’s voice was a low, dangerous purr, venom dripping from every word. “The heat house. The omega who thought he could hide from me. So fragile, so broken. You belong beneath me.”
Jimin jerked his head away, fury igniting in his chest. His gaze flicked to Hoseok, slumped and unconscious in the chair beside him, a fierce protectiveness roaring to life despite the terror twisting inside.
“You’ll never take him,” Jimin spat, voice trembling but fierce. “You can’t...”
Alistar’s cruel laughter echoed through the cold room like a death knell. “You’ll learn your place soon enough, omega. You’ll bow.”
Jimin swallowed hard, bile rising sharply, but he forced his breath steady, his wolf growling low and fierce beneath his skin. Then, meeting Alistar’s gaze with unflinching fire, he spoke with icy steel cutting through the fear.
“My alpha is coming for me,” Jimin said, voice sharp as a blade. “And when he does…” His lips curled into a vicious, almost manic smile. “…he’s going to FUCK. YOU. UP.”
Without hesitation, he spat squarely into Alistar’s face, the warm wetness shocking against his skin.
For a tense moment, silence swallowed the room. Then Alistar chuckled...a dark, sinister sound...as he slowly wiped the spit from his cheek, eyes glittering with cruel amusement.
“You insolent omega.”
Before Jimin could react, Alistar’s fist swung hard and fast, smashing into Jimin’s mouth with brutal force.
Pain exploded in a fiery bloom across Jimin’s jaw, sharp and burning. Blood spattered onto his chin, mixing with the sweat and grime on his face.
Despite the shock, Jimin let out a raw, ragged chuckle...a wild, desperate sound that echoed through the stale room like a challenge.
“That’s all you’ve got?” he taunted hoarsely, blood thick on his tongue but spirit unbroken.
Alistar’s eyes blackened, shadows writhing in their depths like something feral straining to tear free. His lip curled, a growl rumbling from deep in his chest, low and venomous. “You will learn to bow before me,” he snarled, each word dripping with the promise of pain.
Jimin’s laugh sliced through the tension...ragged, wild, and threaded with something that mocked the very idea of submission. It was the laugh of someone staring into the jaws of a beast and daring it to bite.
“I’m the mate of Jeon Jungkook,” he hissed, every syllable trembling not with fear, but with a burning, unshakable conviction. “The Alpha of the Nocturne Syndicate. I bow to no man… and no wolf… but my mate.” His voice dropped to a deadly whisper, as if delivering a curse. “And he will come for me.”
His eyes locked onto Alistar’s with a predator’s stillness, unblinking. “You want to know how I know?” A faint, chilling smile curved his lips. “Because I am the pulse in his veins… the air in his lungs… the blood on his teeth when he rips you apart. I am the mother of his future heirs. You have touched what is his…” He leaned forward, voice quiet, final. “And for that, he will make you wish for death long before he grants it.”
Jimin let the silence stretch until it suffocated the air between them, his gaze burning into Alistar’s soul like hot iron. Then, with deliberate calm, he added, “Before this is over… it will be you on your knees, bowing before me.”
The words hung in the air like the tolling of a funeral bell...an omen, dark and absolute, in the suffocating shadow between them.
For a flicker of a second, Alistar’s cruel expression faltered...an unreadable mixture of fury and grudging respect flashing across his features...before he stepped back, his eyes never leaving Jimin’s defiant form.
Jimin’s body throbbed with pain, his lips swollen and bleeding, but inside, his fire roared louder than ever...unyielding, untamed, and ready to fight for every breath, every heartbeat.
__________________
The message hit Jungkook’s comm like a thunderclap: coordinates pinpointing the cold, desolate warehouse by the docks. The place reeked of rust, salt, and rot...a forgotten carcass in the city’s underbelly.
Jungkook’s jaw clenched, his wolf snarling beneath his skin, claws unsheathed and ready to tear through anything that stood in their way. There was no mercy for the ones who dared touch his omega and mate.
“Gear up,” Jungkook barked, voice low and brutal. “We’re storming the place.”
The convoy slid to a silent halt behind rusted containers, shadows pooling like ink around the rusted skeleton of the warehouse. The night air was thick with tension...every breath tasted like iron and death.
Taehyung cracked his knuckles, lips curling into a manic grin as he slung a combat knife from his belt and loaded his pistol with a ruthless precision. “Let’s bleed them dry.”
Namjoon nodded, calm and steady as always, the sharp scent of sage grounding the chaos. “Breach points secure. Ready on your command.”
Yoongi’s gaze was icy steel, his pistol gleaming in the moonlight, blade at the ready. “No mistakes.”
Jungkook’s eyes narrowed, senses sharpening ...distant footsteps, muffled voices, the faintest scent of sweat and fear. His wolf rumbled, a growl like distant thunder.
“On my mark…breach.”
The warehouse door shattered under Jungkook’s brutal kick, sending splinters flying like deadly shards into the stale air. The room exploded into chaos...shouted orders, the crack of gunfire, and the wet, sickening thud of brass knuckles meeting flesh.
Taehyung lunged forward with a savage grin, eyes wild and shining with feral delight. His combat knife gleamed cold and sharp under the flickering warehouse lights as he moved like a shadow...silent, swift, and merciless.
With a cruel precision, he sliced a throat open, the wet, choking sound of a ragged breath cutting off mid-gasp filling the air. Blood spurted in a dark fountain, splattering Taehyung’s arms and face, but his smile never wavered...instead, it widened, twisted by a psychotic hunger for the kill.
He turned with fluid grace, plunging the blade into another attacker’s side, twisting it cruelly while the man gurgled and fell. Taehyung’s laughter was a low, chilling sound, almost gleeful as he danced through the carnage, leaving a trail of crimson in his wake.
Nearby, Namjoon was the opposite...calm, deadly efficient. His strikes were clean and precise, snapping bones and silencing threats with swift, brutal authority.
Yoongi’s pistol barked sharp and cold, each bullet finding its mark with surgical accuracy, cutting down foes before they could react. His voice cut through the chaos, steady and commanding. “Cover the east wing. Sweep for hostiles.”
Jungkook was a storm made flesh...blood, muscle, and unrelenting rage. His blade flashed, his fists cracked bone, and his teeth bared in something far too savage to be called a snarl. Every movement was lethal, every strike designed to end.
And then...through the chaos...he saw him.
Jimin.
Tied to a chair in the far corner, rope biting into his wrists, blood trickling from his lip. His body was battered, but his chin was lifted, eyes locked on Jungkook like he’d known all along he would come. Beside him, Hoseok hung limp, unconscious but breathing.
The sight ripped a sound from Jungkook’s chest...deep, primal, and loud enough to make the air vibrate.
“JIMIN!”
The roar cracked through the warehouse like a gunshot, freezing enemies mid-step. A few glanced toward the omega in the corner...and paid for it with their lives. Jungkook’s movements turned brutal, almost inhuman, as he tore through the line of men between them. His kills were fast, efficient, but soaked in fury...bone snapping under his grip, blades sliding between ribs without hesitation.
The metallic tang of blood thickened in the air, mixing with the sound of agony and rage until it became a savage symphony, the Nocturne Syndicate cutting down anyone foolish enough to still be standing.
When the last body hit the floor, silence fell...heavy, absolute, broken only by the ragged breathing of survivors and the slow drip of blood onto cracked concrete.
Jungkook was already there, dropping to his knees beside Jimin. His knife flashed once, slicing through the ropes with shaking hands.
Jimin’s face was streaked with sweat and blood, his lips split, bruises blossoming across pale skin...but his eyes burned with unyielding fire.
“I told him my alpha would come for me,” Jimin rasped, voice hoarse but fierce.
Jungkook pulled him into his arms, crushing him to his chest, voice raw with possessive relief. “You’re safe now,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to Jimin’s. “No one will ever touch you again. I’ve got you."
Jungkook stood, blood dripping from cuts on his face, chest heaving as the fight’s fury slowly ebbed. His gaze swept the warehouse...silent now except for the shallow breaths of his pack and the faint drip of blood onto concrete.
He turned to Yoongi and Namjoon. “Secure the perimeter. No one leaves.”
Yoongi nodded, already moving to check on Hoseok, who remained unconscious but stable.
The warehouse felt like it contracted around them, the stale air thick with tension and the metallic tang of blood. Shadows clung to every corner as Jungkook’s eyes burned with fierce determination, piercing through the darkness in search of Alistar. The scent of black licorice hung heavily...a sick reminder that the man who had tormented his mate was close.
A cold, mocking laugh sliced through the silence, chilling Jungkook’s blood. From the shadows stepped Alistar, his smirk cruel, eyes gleaming with venomous amusement. The bastard wore arrogance like armor, but beneath it, Jungkook could smell the fear...the fear of a wolf cornered.
“Well, well,” Alistar sneered, voice dripping with disdain. “Jeon Jungkook, the mighty alpha of the Nocturne Syndicate. Here to save your precious omega?”
Jungkook’s wolf snarled deep in his chest, muscles coiling like a predator about to strike. “You hurt my mate. You hurt my pack. That’s the last mistake you’ll ever make.” His voice was a low growl, laden with promise and menace.
Alistar’s smirk faltered, replaced by a dangerous gleam. Without warning, he lunged forward, claws flashing like deadly knives in the dim light.
Jungkook met him with primal fury, the two alphas colliding in a brutal storm of snarls, fists, and teeth. Brass knuckles met flesh with sickening thuds; each strike a battle for dominance, each growl a declaration of war.
They crashed against crates and rusted metal, the warehouse shaking with the force of their rage. Jungkook’s heart thundered not from exertion but from a fierce need to protect, to punish. His vision blurred with adrenaline and fury, every blow fueled by the image of Jimin’s defiant eyes and Hoseok’s vulnerable form.
Alistar managed a vicious swipe that drew blood across Jungkook’s cheek, the sting igniting a deeper rage. When the fight reached its crescendo, Jungkook roared a primal, guttural sound and slammed Alistar down onto the cold concrete floor. Pinning him beneath his weight, Jungkook’s hands immediately sought rough rope from a nearby crate. With ruthless efficiency, he bound Alistar’s wrists tight, the coarse fibers cutting into the alpha’s skin.
Leaning down close, Jungkook’s voice was low, icy, and lethal. “You’ve made one hell of a mistake crossing me. I’ve got something very special planned for you back in my cellar. You’re going to regret every second of this.”
Alistar glared up at him, a flicker of defiance in his eyes, but Jungkook’s grip tightened, a silent warning that resistance was useless.
From the shadows, Namjoon stepped forward, his calm authority a stark contrast to the savage scene. “I’ll take him back,” he said firmly, nodding at the bound alpha.
Jungkook rose, wiping blood and sweat from his face, and gestured toward the waiting SUVs outside. Namjoon moved swiftly, hauling Alistar to his feet and escorting him through the shattered warehouse doors. The night air was cold, carrying the distant sound of waves crashing against the docks.
Back inside, Jungkook’s gaze returned to his pack...Jimin’s fragile but fierce presence, Hoseok’s unconscious form...and the unyielding bond that held them all together. The fight wasn’t over. Not yet.
___________________
The warehouse’s harsh overhead lights cast long shadows as the fight’s adrenaline drained from the pack, leaving behind a heavy, aching silence. Jungkook’s arms wrapped protectively around Jimin, holding him close despite the bruises and cuts marring his fragile form. Every inch of Jimin’s body bore the evidence of torment...the split lips, the dark bruises blooming across his skin...but his spirit still blazed defiantly beneath the pain. Jungkook’s heart clenched, torn between relief and fury.
Yoongi crouched beside Hoseok, whose unconscious form lay on the ground now, a deep gash on his temple oozing dark crimson. His breath was shallow but steady. Yoongi’s fingers were steady as he pressed a clean cloth against the wound, eyes sharp and calculating even in this moment of vulnerability.
Just then, Jin arrived, the trusted in-house physician, carrying a heavy medical bag filled with supplies. His calm presence was a balm against the storm of emotions swirling around them.
“Pressure here,” Jin said quietly, nodding at Yoongi as he took over the wound care with practiced precision. “Hoseok’s stable, but he needs rest and constant monitoring. No complications yet, but a concussion is possible.”
Jungkook kept his gaze locked on Jimin’s face as the omega leaned into his chest, drawing strength from the steady beat of Jungkook’s heart. The smell of his mate...soft, fragile, but unmistakably his...grounded Jungkook, reminding him why he fought so fiercely.
The room hummed with quiet tension. Namjoon and Taehyung patrolled the perimeter, their senses alert. Taehyung’s usual manic energy had dimmed to a simmering vigilance, his eyes scanning every shadow with a predator’s focus.
“We hold the perimeter tight,” Namjoon said in a low voice. “No one in or out without our say.”
Jungkook’s voice was raw but resolute as he whispered to Jimin, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along the bruised skin. “You’re safe now. I swear, no one will ever hurt you again.”
Jimin’s lips trembled as tears slipped free, but he held onto Jungkook’s warmth, the solid presence anchoring him back from the edge of despair.
The pack gathered closer, a living fortress of loyalty and love forged in blood and fire. In that moment, surrounded by the faces of those who would fight and bleed for each other, the fractures of the night’s terror began to mend.
____________________
The sleek black SUVs rolled silently up the long driveway of the Nocturne Syndicate mansion, the sprawling fortress nestled deep in the city’s shadows. Inside, the tension was thick, every step heavy with exhaustion and the weight of what they’d just endured.
In Jin’s clinic, the sterile white walls felt cold against the raw emotions swirling in the room. Hoseok lay pale and still on the narrow bed, his temple wrapped carefully in bandages. The dark bruise there was a stark contrast to his usual bright, warm presence. Yoongi sat rigid beside him, eyes sharp and unblinking as he kept a protective vigil, his fingers brushing Hoseok’s damp hair softly as if willing him to wake.
Jungkook’s gaze flickered to Jimin, who stood with jaw set stubbornly, shoulders tight despite the obvious bruises mottling his skin. “You need to get checked out, too” Jungkook said, voice thick with worry.
Jimin shook his head, voice quiet but firm. “I’m fine, alpha. Just some bruises. I'll heal. I just want to shower… and climb into my nest with you.”
Jungkook’s muscles tensed, his alpha instincts screaming to insist...but the fierce determination in Jimin’s eyes melted his resistance. “Alright. Let’s go.”
The mansion’s warm water cascaded down in thick sheets, washing away the grime, sweat, and blood that clung to their skin. Jungkook’s large hands moved with a tender urgency over Jimin’s bruised body, fingers tracing every darkened welt and healing cut. Each touch was gentle, reverent, as if trying to erase the pain the world had inflicted on his omega.
Jimin leaned into Jungkook’s hands, eyes closed, lips parted slightly in quiet surrender. His fingers trembled as they found Jungkook’s own fresh scratches, sliding over the taut muscles of his chest and arms, returning the favor. The steam swirled thick around them, a hazy veil shielding their vulnerability.
Jungkook’s voice cracked low, thick with emotion. “I was so scared… I thought I was going to lose you.”
Jimin opened his eyes, searching his alpha’s face, fierce and shining with raw love. “You won’t. I’m yours. Always.”
That promise broke something open in Jungkook. His mouth captured Jimin’s in a desperate, claiming kiss, teeth grazing lips, tongues tangling as the water washed over them. His hands roamed lower, cupping Jimin’s soft ass, pulling him flush against Jungkook’s hard length.
Jimin gasped, arching back against the cold tile wall, fingers tangling in Jungkook’s wet hair. Jungkook’s fingers found his slippery wet hole, sliding his finger around his slick to stroke the heated, sensitive skin. The omega shuddered, breath hitching. Jungkook reached down and lifted Jimin up in his arms, the omegas thighs wrapping automatically around his waist.
With careful, possessive pressure, Jungkook’s cock pressed against Jimin’s slick hole, the promise of union sparking between them. When Jungkook slid inside, slow and deep, Jimin’s breath hitched, a soft moan escaping as their bodies moved together in perfect rhythm.
The steam thickened, muffling their sounds...moans, gasps, whispered names...as they fucked against the shower wall, Jungkook’s hands holding Jimin close, as if afraid to let him go.
Their bodies slick and trembling, they rode the wave of release together, Jungkook knotting deep inside Jimin, holding him tight as they spilled into trembling aftershocks.
When the water finally cooled, Jungkook gently dried them both, his hands lingering on the bruised, battered skin he worshipped. He slipped a soft white t-shirt over Jimin, the fabric loose and comforting, then carefully slid a pair of Jimin’s delicate lace panties up his legs.
Jungkook slid on a pair of boxer briefs, and took Jimin’s hand, leading him to their nest...the soft bed where they belonged.
They curled into each other, bodies pressed close in a cocoon of warmth and whispered promises. “I love you,” Jungkook murmured, voice rough with feeling.
“I love you,” Jimin breathed back, fingers tracing lazy circles on Jungkook’s chest as sleep claimed them both.
______________________
The dark room was still except for the low buzz of Jungkook’s phone vibrating sharply against the nightstand. His eyes snapped open, heart pounding. Grabbing the phone, he answered, voice low and sharp.
“Speak.”
Yoongi’s voice was tense but steady. “We’ve got him...the bodyguard who was working for Alistar. He’s in custody now. What do you want me to do with him?”
Jungkook’s jaw tightened, anger flickering behind his calm.
There was a brief pause before Yoongi’s voice came again, waiting for the command. “It’s your call.”
Jungkook’s mind raced, images of betrayal and pain flashing through his thoughts. Finally, his voice was cold and decisive. “Throw him in the cellar with Alistar, but keep them separated. I’ll deal with them both tomorrow."
The line went dead.
Jungkook sat back, the fury coiling tight in his chest, every muscle taut with rage. He stewed silently in the dark...until a soft, desperate whimper broke through the silence.
“Jungkook…”
His omega’s voice, fragile and small, called from beside him. The feral edge melted away in an instant.
He reached out, pulling Jimin close, wrapping his arms around him, and holding him tight.
“Shh, I’m here. I’ve got you,” Jungkook murmured, voice rough but filled with fierce love.
Jimin’s breathing slowed, the tension fading as Jungkook cuddled him back to sleep, the world outside forgotten for now...but the promise of protection burning brighter than ever.