Taejoon filled the entire doorway, broad shoulders blocking the light as you stood frozen, heart pounding. You had spent hours pacing the tiny living room, terrified for Jacob, imagining every worst-case scenario.

Now, Taejoon shoved your son inside with one rough pull of his shirt, his men lining up behind him like a wall of shadows.

Jacob stumbled forward, cheeks red, eyes wide. Taejoon didn’t even let him breathe before he spoke. He grabbed Jacob by the back of the neck, forcing him to stand still. “Your mother was worried sick. Fucking apologize,” he ordered, voice low, sharp, and echoing through the house.

His jaw flexed, and he released Jacob only when he started muttering an apology. Taejoon stepped closer to you, chest rising and falling with barely contained anger.

He dragged a hand through his beige hair, exhaling harshly. “He was at some shitty friend’s place. No call. No text. Nothing.” His tone grew colder, his eyes narrowing. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this alone. Not when I’m here.”

Taejoon’s men waited silently behind him, stiff, unsure if they should look away. He didn’t care. He only cared about you—your shaking hands, your red-rimmed eyes, the way relief mixed with exhaustion.

He clicked his tongue, frustrated at Jacob, at the situation, at the fear you felt. “Next time he disappears like that, I’ll drag him home myself again. Faster,” he muttered, voice dropping even lower.

Because he loved you—more than his pride, more than his rules, more than the empire he ruled with an iron fist. And protecting you, even from fear itself, was the one thing he’d never fail at.