From Reluctance to Desire: A Mafia Story [JJK]

✨UNDER HIS COMMAND✨

The rhythmic pounding of my fists against the bag filled the air, drowning out the rest of the world. I had been training for weeks—late nights in this very room, stealing whatever time I could to sharpen my skills. Jungkook had once called me reckless, unprepared for this world. He had mocked my defiance, dismissed my attempts at fighting back. But I wasn't the same as I was back then. I wasn't just surviving anymore—I was learning, adapting.

I was so engrossed in my movements that I didn't notice the shift in the atmosphere until a familiar presence settled over me like a storm cloud.

I froze mid-swing, my fists still poised against the bag. Turning my head, I saw him. Jungkook stood at the entrance, his figure partially cloaked in shadow, his dark eyes fixed on me. He leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, but there was nothing casual about his stare.

He had found me here before—practicing, pushing myself. Back then, he had scoffed, told me I was wasting my energy. "You'll never beat me," he had said once, his voice edged with amusement. And maybe that was still true. But I had no intention of beating him—I only needed to be strong enough to stand my ground.

The air between us crackled, an unspoken challenge hanging in the silence. My breath came in slow, measured beats as I met his gaze.

"What are you doing here?" I finally asked, keeping my voice steady despite the quickened pace of my heart.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he stepped forward, his boots making slow, deliberate echoes against the hard floor. His gaze flickered over me—the sheen of sweat on my skin, the tension in my stance, the resolve in my eyes.

"You've been busy," he observed, his voice low, unreadable.

I shrugged, reaching for my water bottle. "Just trying to keep up. You know, survival and all that."

His laugh was short, humorless. "Survival? Is that what you call this little rebellion of yours?"

I took a slow sip of water, never breaking eye contact. "Rebellion? I think you're overestimating me. I'm just... adapting."

Jungkook's jaw tightened, his patience thinning. Without warning, he snatched the bottle from my grip and tossed it aside, his eyes flashing with irritation. "Don't play coy with me, Y/N. I've let this go on long enough."

I tilted my head, feigning innocence. "Let what go on?"

His composure cracked. In two swift strides, he was in front of me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him.

"You want to play games?" His voice was dangerously soft now. "Fine. Let's play."

Before I could react, he moved—faster than I anticipated—sweeping my legs out from under me. I hit the mat with a grunt, the impact jarring but not as painful as I expected. Jungkook stood over me, his stance calculated, his eyes gleaming with a mix of anger and something else—something that made my pulse spike.

"Get up." His command was sharp, unyielding.

I pushed myself to my feet, refusing to let him see any hesitation. "Another lesson in obedience?"

His lips curled into something almost resembling a smirk. "Call it a test. Let's see how far your so-called training has gotten you."

I didn't hesitate. If he wanted a fight, I'd give him one.