MY MAFIA STEPBROTHER JEON JUNGKOOK X READER

4

The silence in the car was deafening, except for the hum of the engine that idled softly in the background. Jungkook sat next to me, his face shadowed by the dim lights outside the mansion, his expression unreadable. He hadn't turned off the car, hadn't moved since we parked, and the tension in the air was so thick it felt suffocating. I swallowed hard, my hands shaking as they rested in my lap, and before I could stop myself, a tear slipped down my cheek.

I wiped it away furiously, angry at myself for letting him see me like this. Weak. Vulnerable.

"You were right, okay?" My voice cracked as the words spilled out of me, raw and unfiltered. "I don’t have anybody. I don’t have a home, a family, or anything worth living for. No one wants me!" My chest heaved as the dam holding back all my pain finally broke. The funeral, the loss, the abandonment—all of it crashed over me in waves.

"No one has ever wanted me!" I choked on a sob, the tears pouring down faster now, blurring my vision until I couldn’t even see him anymore. "Sometimes… sometimes when I look in the mirror, I don’t even want myself."

The words felt foreign on my tongue, as if they weren’t my own but from some deep, hidden part of me that had been suffocated for too long. I looked away, focusing on the window, trying to ground myself as the sobs wracked my body. What was I even saying? Why was I confessing all of this to him, of all people?

Jungkook remained silent, unmoving, his presence both unnerving and oddly comforting in a way I couldn't quite explain. And then, in the midst of my breakdown, his voice cut through the silence like a blade.

"What would you call a painful death?"

His words startled me, yanking me out of my spiral. I blinked through the haze of tears and turned to face him, confusion swirling in my chest. "What?"

He didn’t look at me, his eyes trained on something far off, distant, as though he were contemplating something much darker than I could imagine. The calm in his voice, the eerie detachment—it sent chills down my spine.

"I’m not going to kill you," he said, finally turning his gaze to me, his eyes hard and calculating. I stared back, trying to gauge if there was any truth in his words. But something about the way he said it made my skin crawl, as though death was a topic he was far too familiar with.

"What do you want, Jungkook?" My voice trembled, barely a whisper. It wasn’t the same voice that had screamed in frustration minutes earlier; this was quieter, more fragile. It scared me how small I sounded. How small I felt.

"Answer my question." His tone was darker now, the calmness replaced with a cold edge that sent a shiver through me. He wasn’t asking anymore. He was demanding.

"And if I don’t want to?" I dared to push back, though my voice betrayed me, shaking with fear. His calm demeanor was frightening, like the eye of a storm, and I could feel the tempest brewing just beneath the surface.

Before I could react, his hand shot out, gripping my chin tightly, forcing me to face him. The pressure of his fingers against my skin sent a sharp pain shooting through my jaw, and my heart pounded so loudly I could hear it in my ears. My breath caught in my throat, uneven and shallow.

"You don’t want to?" His voice was barely above a whisper, but the threat behind it was clear. He was holding back, teetering on the edge of something dangerous, and I could feel the restraint in every word he spoke. His patience was thinning, and I was pushing him closer to the breaking point.

I shook my head quickly, fear overriding any stubbornness I had left. His laugh was low, humorless, as if he found my defiance amusing. But it wasn’t a laugh of kindness; it was a warning. A predator toying with its prey.

"You’ve got a choice," he said softly, but there was nothing gentle in his words. "Whatever you decide, just remember—you’ll have to live with the consequences."

His grip loosened, but his eyes never left mine, holding me captive under his gaze. His accent, thick and foreign, dripped with an intensity that made my skin prickle. It was like hearing the devil speak with velvet words, each one laced with poison.

I wrenched my chin from his grasp, my hand trembling as I reached for the door handle, desperate to get out of the suffocating space. His hand was faster, covering mine before I could open the door. His touch was cold, firm, and unforgiving.

"I’ve been far too lenient with you," he murmured, his voice almost contemplative. His fingers brushed against my cheek, wiping away the tears I hadn’t even realized were still falling. I flinched, wanting to pull away from the contact, but my body was frozen, paralyzed by the intensity of the moment.

"I just want to be left alone," I whispered, my voice breaking under the weight of everything I had been holding in. I didn’t care about the consequences anymore. I didn’t care about him, or the fear that came with being around him. All I wanted was peace.

For a long moment, he just stared at me, his gaze hard and unreadable. Then, without a word, he reached over and opened the door, pushing it wide open for me. Relief flooded through me, and I scrambled out of the car as quickly as I could, desperate to escape.

Just as I was about to step out fully, he grabbed my chin one last time, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Remember, Amour, whatever happens next, it’s on you."

I didn’t wait for him to say anything else. I practically stumbled out of the car, my heart racing as I hurried toward the mansion, the sound of the car’s engine fading behind me. When I reached the door, I stopped, turning around just in time to see his car speed off down the street, disappearing into the night.

Once inside, my feet carried me to the second floor, to my assigned room near Jungkook’s, but my mind was elsewhere. The words "for him" echoed in my head, pulling me toward Mr. Jeon’s office. The door was slightly ajar, and curiosity got the better of me.

I pushed the door open, slipping inside, my heart pounding with each step. On his desk was a black folder, ominous and untouched. My fingers hesitated before flipping it open, revealing photographs—girls, smiling, carefree. But then, the pictures turned darker. Blood. So much blood.

Before I could process what I was seeing, the door creaked behind me. I scrambled to sit in one of the leather chairs, forcing calm over my panic as Mr. Jeon walked in, his smirk widening when he saw me. "Y/N, what brings you here?"

I faked a smile, trying to steady my breath. "Just waiting for you. I didn’t want to get lost."

His eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering across his face as he moved closer. "You could’ve asked Jungkook."

My heart raced, but I maintained my facade, praying he didn’t see through my lie. He picked up the folder and tossed it onto my lap, scattering the horrific photos around me. "Want to snoop? All you had to do was ask."

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