A Throne of Chains, A Crown of Sin

The air in Taehyung's estate was thick with power, suffocating and inescapable. The walls whispered secrets—ones laced with blood, betrayal, and the dark desires of a king who ruled not with kindness, but with iron and fire. And she? She was caged within it, shackled by something far stronger than steel—him.

She stood in the center of his grand bedroom, its opulence suffocating. Dark, floor-length curtains veiled the windows, casting the room in shadow. The massive bed loomed behind her, silk sheets rumpled from a restless night. Taehyung's scent clung to every inch of this place, drowning her in his presence even when he wasn't there.

Except now, he was.

The heavy click of the door locking sent a shiver down her spine. She turned slowly, finding him leaning against the frame, arms crossed, eyes unreadable. The dim light cast cruel shadows across his sharp features—high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and lips that were both a weapon and a temptation.

"Still trying to escape, sweetheart?" His voice was smooth, laced with amusement, but beneath it was something far more dangerous.

Her fingers curled into fists. "I won't stop."

Taehyung chuckled, slow and dark. "Oh, but you will." He pushed off the door, prowling toward her, each step measured, deliberate. "You'll stop because you'll realize something very important."

She held her ground as he closed the distance, refusing to let him see the war raging inside her—the fear, the defiance, the treacherous pull of something deeper, something she couldn't name. He reached out, fingers brushing against her throat before curling around it. Not squeezing. Just a reminder.

A reminder that he owned her.

"And what's that?" she forced out, voice steady despite the way her pulse betrayed her beneath his grip.

His lips curved, but there was no warmth in his smile. "That you belong to me."

She swallowed, but it was impossible to ignore the way her body reacted to him, to his touch. He was cruel, relentless, and yet every time he touched her, she burned. She hated herself for it. Hated him for knowing it.

"You don't own me." The words were defiant, but they lacked conviction.

Taehyung tsked, shaking his head. "Lie to yourself all you want, but your body tells the truth." His grip on her throat tightened just slightly before releasing. His fingers traced the column of her neck, skimming down until they rested just above the neckline of her dress.

She shuddered. "You think you can break me?"

He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, voice like silk laced with steel, "I don't need to break you. You'll willingly fall apart for me."

Her breath hitched. He was too close, his heat, his scent, everything about him sinking into her veins like poison. But maybe that was the worst part. Maybe she didn't hate the poison as much as she should.

She turned her face away, trying to put distance between them, but Taehyung wasn't a man who allowed space. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Do you know what happens to things that belong to me?"

She held his gaze, refusing to cower. "You destroy them."

A slow smirk tugged at his lips. "Exactly."

And then he kissed her.

It wasn't gentle. It wasn't sweet. It was a claim—brutal, possessive, a warning wrapped in sinful temptation. His tongue swept into her mouth, dominating, taking. She gasped, nails digging into his arms, unsure if she was trying to push him away or pull him closer.

He pulled back only enough to whisper against her lips, "You hate how much you want this, don't you?"

She did. God, she did. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of admitting it.

She glared at him. "You're a monster."

Taehyung grinned. "And yet, you keep coming back to me."

He stepped back suddenly, leaving her breathless, unsteady. His eyes gleamed with amusement, but underneath it was something darker. Something that told her he was far from done with her.

"You think this is a game?" she asked, trying to gather the tattered remains of her control.

His expression turned cold. "No, sweetheart. This is war."

He moved away, heading toward the massive desk on the other side of the room. A sleek black gun rested there, gleaming under the dim light. He picked it up casually, inspecting it before flicking his gaze back to her.

She stiffened. "What are you doing?"

He spun the gun in his hand, his movements lazy, controlled. "Teaching you a lesson."

Her heart pounded. "Taehyung—"

"Come here."

Every nerve in her body screamed at her to run, but she didn't. She couldn't. Something about the way he looked at her—dark, commanding, unchallenged—kept her rooted to the spot.

When she didn't move fast enough, he sighed, closing the distance himself. He grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward him until her chest nearly brushed against his.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, voice low.

She scoffed. "No."

He smirked. "Good."

Before she could react, he grabbed her hand and pressed the gun into her palm. Her breath caught, fingers trembling around the cold metal.

"What—"

He stepped behind her, his chest flush against her back, his lips at her ear. "Shoot me."

Her blood ran cold. "What?"

His hand covered hers, guiding her fingers to the trigger. "If you really think you can leave, if you really believe you're not already mine… pull the trigger."

Her heart pounded against her ribs. This was a test. A twisted, impossible test. Her fingers trembled, and she knew he felt it.

"I—"

His grip tightened around hers, forcing her hand to stay steady. "Do it, sweetheart. End this. Prove to me you're not already too far gone."

She couldn't.

God help her, she couldn't.

Her breathing came in sharp, ragged gasps. The weight of the gun, the heat of his body, the way his voice coiled around her like a snake—she was trapped. But wasn't she always?

A slow, satisfied chuckle rumbled from him. "That's what I thought."

He pried the gun from her fingers, tossing it onto the desk like it was nothing more than a discarded toy. Then he turned her to face him, fingers tilting her chin up.

"See, sweetheart," he murmured, voice dripping with satisfaction, "you don't want to escape me." His thumb brushed over her parted lips. "You just want to be ruined by me."

Her eyes burned with frustration, anger, and something she refused to name. "I hate you."

Taehyung grinned, dark and wicked. "Then hate me in my bed."

She slapped him.

The sound echoed in the room, sharp, unforgiving. His head barely moved, but the amusement in his gaze turned to something far more lethal.

And then he laughed.

The bastard actually laughed.

"Oh, sweetheart," he purred, fingers brushing over his jaw where her palm had connected. "You have no idea what you've just started."

A shiver ran through her, but she lifted her chin. She would not break. Not yet.

Taehyung took a step back, his eyes never leaving hers. "You'll beg for me soon enough."

He turned, walking toward the door, leaving her standing there, breathless, shaking, and utterly lost in the war between them.

Because deep down, she knew he was right.

She might have been bound by chains before… but now?

Now, she was wearing a crown of sin.