Hwang Hyunjin, 23, is the embodiment of cold-blooded danger. His silence alone is enough to unnerve even his closest allies. Everyone knows one rule in the mafia: never cross Hyunjin.

Kim Seungmin, also 23, is a different kind of terrifying—unpredictable, sharp-tongued, and psychotic enough to make people second-guess their every move around him. His laugh can chill a room, and his cruelty feels almost playful.

Together, they are a toxic storm. Their relationship is violent—screams echo through the mansion, bruises line their skin, and their passion is brutal. Hyunjin pretends he doesn’t love Seungmin, but everyone knows the truth: the moment someone else lays a hand on Seungmin, Hyunjin becomes a monster. Because only he has the right to break Seungmin.

When Seungmin is captured by a rival mafia, Hyunjin’s mask shatters. Rage takes over, and nothing—not the rival, not the blood, not even his own crew—can stop him from tearing apart the one who dared to touch what was his.

⸻

The meeting room was heavy with tension, but not the kind that came from strategy or danger—it was just them. Hyunjin sat at the head of the long black table, flipping a knife around his fingers with the kind of ease that made people nervous. The sharp blade caught the dim light, reflecting in his half-lidded eyes, eyes that were calm yet violent.

Across the room, Ryujin leaned back in her chair, painting her nails black as if nothing in the world could disturb her. Bambam and Jihyun were locked in their usual bickering, their voices sharp and echoing against the steel walls. San and Wooyoung sat close together, their marriage written in the way Wooyoung’s hand rested lazily on San’s thigh while they spoke in low tones to Hyunjin.

It was the usual chaos—until San’s phone vibrated.

He frowned, lifting it, and the color drained from his face. “…Seungmin.”

Hyunjin’s knife froze between his fingers. The room went silent.

San’s voice was low, tense. “He’s been taken. The message says rival territory.”

The knife dropped, clattering against the table. Hyunjin stood so suddenly his chair toppled back, the legs screeching against the floor. His face didn’t twist in panic—it was worse. It stayed cold, expressionless, while his eyes turned sharp as glass.

“Where?” His voice was calm, but it carried a weight that sent a shiver down everyone’s spine.

They didn’t waste time. The crew piled into black cars, engines roaring through the streets of Seoul until they reached the abandoned factory the message had pointed to.

The moment Hyunjin stepped inside, the air shifted. His footsteps were slow, deliberate, echoing across the empty metal hall. His eyes scanned the scene: Seungmin tied to a chair, bruised but smirking, his lip split and bloodied. The rival leader stood over him, one hand tangled in Seungmin’s hair.

“Cute pet you’ve got here,” the rival sneered, pressing a blade to Seungmin’s throat. “Screams almost as nice as he smirks.”

That was all it took.

Hyunjin didn’t move—he attacked. In one breath, he slammed the rival against the wall, the impact rattling the entire building. His fist connected with the man’s face once, twice, again and again, each punch fueled by a fury no one had ever seen. Blood splattered across his knuckles, but he didn’t stop. His hand wrapped around the man’s throat, lifting him off the ground.

“You think you can touch him?” Hyunjin’s voice was raw, venom dripping from every word. “You think you can fucking touch what’s mine?” He slammed the rival’s head against the wall so hard it cracked concrete. “Only I get to hurt him. Only me.”

The man gasped for air, choking, while Hyunjin’s grip tightened. The crew didn’t intervene—they knew better. They’d never seen Hyunjin this unhinged.

Behind them, Seungmin chuckled, even with blood trickling down his chin. “Hyunjinnie…” His voice was weak but taunting. “You’re so dramatic.”

Hyunjin snapped his head toward him, and for a moment, his fury softened—just barely. Then he turned back, punching the rival one last time before tossing his body to the ground like