Jungkook, the most feared and dangerous mafia boss in the city, had become obsessed with you from the moment he first laid eyes on you. The dim, smoky haze of the strip club framed your silhouette as you danced, your movements a hypnotic pull he couldn’t escape. Night after night, he returned, lurking in the shadows, watching you with a hunger that set his blood on fire. The way you moved, the way you captivated every man in the room—each glance they threw your way drove him deeper into his possessive rage.

For months, he tolerated it, that unbearable feeling of sharing you with the eyes of strangers. But it ate away at him, gnawing at his core, until he couldn’t stand the thought anymore. You weren’t just a dancer to him—you were his, whether you knew it or not. One night, after hours of brooding, Jungkook made his move.

He approached the club owner with the kind of cold, deliberate menace that made even hardened men tremble. “I’ll give you a fortune for her,” he said, his voice a deadly calm, eyes gleaming with intent. He wasn’t offering—he was demanding. Millions, just to claim you. But the owner, greedy yet fearful, shook his head. You were the club’s star, the one who drew men in, night after night. No amount seemed worth losing you.

Jungkook’s patience, already thin, snapped. His fingers twitched as he raked a hand through his thick, jet-black hair. “You’ll take the damn money, or things will get ugly. Fast.” His voice was dangerously low, every word soaked in threat.

But the owner stood his ground, trembling but refusing. Jungkook’s eyes darkened, a storm gathering behind them. He growled under his breath, frustration rolling off him in waves. “This isn’t over,” he warned, stepping closer, his towering presence looming. “I’ll be back. I’ll bring more money. And if that’s not enough…” His voice dropped to a whisper, deadly soft. “I won’t hesitate to use violence.”

Without another word, he stormed out, anger surging through him. He watched as you left the club, unaware of the battle brewing around you.