The moment she stepped into the dimly lit penthouse, the air thickened, charged with the kind of tension that made her pulse erratic.
Taehyung stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, his broad shoulders casting a menacing shadow against the city skyline. The dim city lights illuminated his profile—razor-sharp jawline, stormy eyes, and lips curled into something between a smirk and a snarl. He looked like a predator who had finally cornered his prey.
And she was his prey.
"Do you have any idea," his voice was a slow, lethal drawl, "how much restraint it took to not burn this city down looking for you?"
Her heart stammered against her ribs.
She knew. She had seen the way his world shook when she defied him. When she walked away.
But she had no choice.
"You weren't supposed to find me," she whispered.
Taehyung's chuckle was dark, humorless. "You thought you could just disappear, princess?" His fingers twitched at his sides before he took a deliberate step forward. "You thought I'd let you?"
She flinched as he stopped just inches from her, his presence suffocating, intoxicating. She had spent the last month trying to erase his touch, his kiss, his scent. And yet, here she was, drowning in all three the moment he was near.
"You left me no choice, Taehyung." Her voice was barely audible, but he caught it. Of course, he did. He caught everything.
His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking dangerously. "No choice?" he echoed. "I gave you everything. My name. My protection. My world. And you still ran."
She swallowed hard. "Because loving you is a death sentence."
Taehyung's fingers shot out, wrapping around her wrist before she could pull away. His grip was firm, but not cruel—no, his cruelty was in the way his touch sent fire licking up her veins, the way he made her crave the very danger she was running from.
"You don't get to decide that," he growled. "I do."
Her breath hitched as he tugged her closer, their bodies almost flush. His cologne wrapped around her like a noose, his warmth searing through her thin dress.
"You belong to me." His lips brushed against her ear, and a shiver ran down her spine. "You always have. And you always will."
She shook her head, willing herself to resist. "I'm not a thing you can own, Taehyung."
His grip on her wrist tightened—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her of the chains she would never truly escape.
"I own this city." His tone was pure sin. "I own the people in it. I own the air you breathe. And if you think I don't own you…" He leaned in until his lips ghosted over hers, his next words a wicked whisper. "…then I must not have ruined you enough."
Her resolve cracked.
"Let me go," she whispered, her voice betraying her.
Taehyung's smirk was lethal. "Never."
And then he kissed her.
It wasn't a kiss meant to persuade. It was a kiss meant to destroy.
His lips crashed against hers with a desperation that bordered on madness, his hands fisting her hair, tilting her head back so he could take, take, take. She whimpered against him, nails digging into his shoulders, but he didn't let up.
He kissed her like he was punishing her. Like he was staking his claim all over again.
And God help her—she kissed him back.
She hated herself for it.
Hated the way her body molded into his like she had never left.
Hated the way he consumed her so effortlessly.
When he finally pulled back, both of them were breathless. His thumb traced over her swollen lips, his dark eyes devouring her.
"I'm done playing games, princess." His voice was husky, thick with possession. "You're coming home with me. Tonight. Now."
She shook her head, even as her body betrayed her, still trembling from his touch.
"I can't."
Taehyung's gaze darkened. "You will."
Before she could protest, he scooped her up effortlessly, cradling her against his chest like she was something precious.
She beat her fists against him. "Put me down!"
He ignored her.
She wriggled in his arms, panic flaring in her chest. "Taehyung, I swear to God—"
His voice was pure dominance. "Swear to me."
She froze.
Her breathing ragged, she stared up at him, eyes wide, and for the first time, she saw it.
The obsession. The madness. The absolute, unshakable devotion that tethered him to her.
She had spent months running. But had she ever really been free?
Or had he been inside her all along—lurking in the shadows of her heart, waiting for the moment she realized there was no escape?
She sucked in a sharp breath as he carried her into the elevator, the doors sealing shut with a quiet finality.
There was no escaping him now.
There never was.
And deep down, she wasn't sure she wanted to anymore.
The elevator ride was suffocating. His arms were a steel cage around her, and she was trapped between the brutal thrum of his heartbeat and the faint scent of leather and smoke that clung to his skin.
When the doors slid open, he carried her into his bedroom without a word.
The room was dark except for the faint city glow spilling through the windows. No sound except the heavy thud of her heart and the rustle of his clothes as he set her down against the wall.
Her legs wobbled slightly, but before she could move, he placed his hands on either side of her head, caging her in.
His eyes were a violent storm—filled with possessive rage and something deeper, something that made her chest tighten painfully.
"I searched for you every second you were gone." His voice was low, but it vibrated with barely restrained fury. "And the entire time, I told myself I wouldn't hurt you when I found you." His lips ghosted over hers. "But now I don't know if I can keep that promise."
Her breath caught.
"Taehyung…" She whispered his name like a plea, but it only seemed to stoke the fire in him.
"You drive me insane." His hands slid down to her waist, gripping her firmly. "You make me want to break the whole fucking world apart just to keep you in it."
Her chest heaved. She could feel the raw power thrumming beneath his skin, the barely leashed violence. And yet, she didn't pull away.
Instead, she leaned into him.
"You shouldn't want me," she whispered. "You should hate me."
He let out a low, sardonic chuckle. "I do hate you," he growled against her lips. "I hate you for making me love you this much."
And then he kissed her again, rougher this time, bruising and unrelenting.
Her nails raked down his back, and he groaned into her mouth, his hands sliding down to grip her thighs. Without breaking the kiss, he lifted her, pinning her against the wall.
Her legs locked around his waist, and she felt the hard press of his body against hers.
"Mine," he muttered between kisses, his voice hoarse with need. "You'll never run from me again."
She whimpered as his lips trailed down her throat, nipping and biting. He was marking her, branding her with every kiss, as if daring her to forget who she belonged to.
She knew she was lost.
Even if she ran again, he would always find her.
Because she was his.
And deep down, she always had been.