WEDCUFFED (18+)

Terror

A/n - first read the next chapter titled, "Fire & Silk" then come to read this chapter.

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The car ride was a void.

A silent, padded prison where Jin couldn't tell if his cheeks were burning from leftover tears or just the friction of panic. His wrists ached. His legs were numb. The cold leather seats pressed against his back like judgment.

He didn't dare move.

Taehyung sat beside him with a stillness that screamed dominance-his palm resting heavily on Jin's thigh, thumb tapping like a metronome of control. The two security guards across from them didn't look human. No eyes. Just men in black breathing in sync with the silence.

And then-

The gates opened.

They didn't creak or groan.

They parted, like the Red Sea, on cue.

The White Emperia stood tall in the dark, illuminating its bone-white columns veined with gold like a marble deity. The mansion looked less like a home and more like a verdict. Smooth glass windows, towering pavilion roofs curled like imperial crowns, and ivy so symmetrical it looked hand-painted. The koi pond outside the main house was still. Too still. Not even the fish dared disturb the surface. Or maybe it was the darkness that stopped the view from being seen.

Even beauty here... was disciplined.

And Jin?

He was nothing more than a disruption.

As soon as the SUV halted, Taehyung stepped out-graceful, controlled, powerful. Then, without a single word, he leaned back in and lifted Jin into his arms.

"Wha-w-ait-T-Tae-hyung-" Jin gasped, clutching at his silk pajama top, trying to resist,

"Quiet!" Taehyung's voice was abnormally calm and scary, eyes piercing into Jin's teary one until he looked down in shame, "You wanted to run around, no? Now walk back if you have the strength."

Jin didn't move again.

He couldn't even speak. The humiliation weighed heavier than Taehyung's grip.

The guards bowed and stepped aside, expressionless.

Taehyung carried him across the polished stone courtyard like he was a wounded bride or a disobedient possession. Not a petal on the manicured flowerbeds fluttered. Even the wind held its breath.

...

The dining hall stretched wide enough to contain silence and shame alike.

Every sound-every clink of silverware, every breath-seemed to bounce back with the weight of judgment. The chandeliers overhead sparkled with cruel indifference, catching the light like shattered promises. A table fit for twenty sat like a royal court in the center of the room, lined with high-backed velvet chairs, their embroidered crests more personal than any of the expressions around them.

The smell of dinner-seaweed broth, grilled hanwoo beef, ginseng rice-hung in the air like a mockery of comfort.

It was elegant. It was refined.

And it was completely wrong for the brutality it followed.

At the head of the table, Mr. Kim Dong-wook sat with a posture too perfect to be casual. His wine glass was full, untouched. His suit uncreased. His expression unreadable-except for the faint twitch of disappointment shadowing his eyes as Taehyung entered the room carrying Jin.