From Reluctance to Desire: A Mafia Story [JJK]

✨HOUSE OF RULES AND THE HEART OF DARKNESS✨

Y/N's POV:

As Jungkook's words echoed through the hallway, "Welcome to Hell," I felt a chill run down my spine. His voice, laced with bitterness, sent a shiver of fear through me. I hesitated for a moment, the gravity of his words settling heavily on my shoulders.

Jungkook continued, his tone sharp and devoid of warmth. "I hated marrying you, but my father compelled me. Never think I will forgive you. You talked too much that day. I will show you how heartless people behave. So I welcome you again..."

He paused, his words trailing off as he realized I was no longer standing behind him. Panic flashed in his eyes as he searched the area, finally finding me on the stairs, wandering aimlessly.

"Who gave you the right to move when I'm speaking?" His voice was cold, his eyes narrowing.

I didn't respond, my gaze wandering over the house's interior. It was surprisingly well-kept, but my focus was on escaping the oppressive atmosphere.

"This house is so nice," I murmured, trying to distract myself from the tension.

Jungkook's irritation was palpable, his voice cold and laced with authority. "Ms. Kim Y/N, I am talking—"

Without thinking, I cut him off, my voice sharper than I intended. "I'm Mrs. Jeon now, Jungkook."

The second his name slipped from my lips. His face darkened, a dangerous glint igniting in his eyes. The air around us grew heavy, charged with unspoken tension.

"How dare you interrupt me," he snarled, his voice low but seething with barely controlled anger. "And how dare you speak my name." His tone dripped with venom, each word sharper than the last. "Don't you have any manners?"

Despite the ice in his voice, I held my ground, refusing to flinch under his heated glare. But before I could react, his hand shot out, fingers gripping my arm like a vice. In one swift motion, he pinned me against the cold, unforgiving wall. My breath hitched as I felt the icy press of metal against my neck—his gun, a silent reminder of the power he held. The cold steel made my skin prickle with fear, and for the first time, the reality of the situation began to sink in. My heart raced in my chest, the rapid thudding almost deafening in my ears.

"I told you," he hissed, his face inches from mine, "not to open your mouth while I'm speaking. I hate it."

His grip tightened for a fraction of a second, and I couldn't stop the small flinch that rippled through my body. His anger was palpable, the kind that simmered just beneath the surface, ready to boil over at the slightest provocation.

"If you ever dare to speak out of turn again, you'll face consequences far worse than this," he growled, his voice low and menacing. His eyes bored into mine, unblinking, as though daring me to defy him again.

My body tensed under his hold, the weight of his threat sinking in, and yet, a stubborn fire flickered within me. But now was not the time to stoke those flames. Not when his gun was so close, not when his fury was this raw.

He stepped back slightly, still holding my gaze as he began listing the rules, each one landing like a nail in a coffin. His words were deliberate as if they were being etched into stone.

"First," he started, his voice cold and measured, "Don't open your mouth unless I say so."

"Second, don't touch anything that belongs to me."

"Third, you will not interfere in my life. Stay out of my way."

"Fourth, you will not do anything—anything—without my explicit permission."