060

JEON

Her ultrasound report burns in hands. 35th—of seven and a half month…

Thirty-fifth scan.

Thirty-fifth time I've watched that flickering heartbeat and prayed the numbers would rise.

And yet—her BP graph looks like a dying man's EKG.

My jaw clench—Why is it not improving?

The doctor sighs—"Mr. Jeon, as I said, her condition is still unstable—her blood pressure has not been able to regulate—"

"Do you think I can't see this?"

He flinches, wipes his forehead with a handkerchief.

A beat.

"I..I mean no disrespect, boss... we just… we're trying to—"

I slam the report down on desk.

Silence.

His head low.

"Let me make this clear, dr. Yoon. —Trying doesn’t keep my kid alive"

His pen clatters to the floor.

"I hired you cause you and your team are best in korea, So show some skills"

Jisun wordlessly hands me a new cigarette.

"Uh i-we-" The doctor’s voice cracks—"We’ll—we’ll transfer her to the VIP suite! More monitors—"

"You told me this last week," I tap the ash on floor— "Two more weeks of rest and her levels would stabilize."

A beat.

His throat pulses. "Mr. Jeon, I—with all due respect—high-risk pregnancies sometimes—"

I glance at him , he shuts his words, head sinks lower—"B-boss, we're trying."

I close my eyes. Trying isn't enough.Her due date in just a few weeks…

Sigh.

"Is there any other complications?"

A pause.

His fingers tap the report. "Well... not any others, boss. But.."

I tilt my head slightly.

"Mrs. Jeon- she has not been cooperating with the team that much...."

Ofcourse she won't.

I tap the ash on floor.She'd be stubborn until her last breath, die before doing anything on our timeline.

I take a slow drag.

Morning's sunlight bleeds gold through the glass—and my headache digs deeper into skull—

The cigarette burns between fingers—

"Anything else?"

Silence.

Then—

"Boss... I-we examined her-ah... her vaginal opening…"

My teeth lock.

"and…it- it was…um... bruised"

Personal. More than personal.Done by me.

The cigarette burns lower. "And?"

"Boss-" He swallows. "F-Forced intimacy... can harm the baby."

My glance at him—

And suddenly, this trembling bastard thinks he can dictate when I take my wife?I know I shouldn’t do her this time. But my cock doesn’t listen—never has.Not when her body is mine. Not when her pussy warmth is the only thing that quiets the storm in my head.

I was the one bruised her.

Fuck.

I flick the cigarette on floor—crush it under heel.

"Leave."

He nods–scramble—bowing once before bolting out— like hell is chasing him.

The door shuts.

Silence.

The ultrasound report stares at me—

Bruised.

Harmed.

Not cooperating.

My fingers curl into fists. Headache pounds in skull relentlessly.

FLASHBACK:

The bathroom air thick with steam.

She stands at the sink—naked, unguarded—hips wider now, belly round under dim yellow light. Skin still damp from shower. Her fingers trace the stretch marks low on her stomach—gentle—like she’s mapping new territories.

I step in the doorway—naked.

She tenses—feels me before seeing “Get out.”

I step in instead.

Her pulse jumps—visible at her throat.

“Jeon—”I crowd her against the sink—Her breath hitches—eyes locked on mine in the mirror—my hands braced on either side, trapping her between marble and my body.

My cock presses against her ass—already hard.

She shivers.

I lean in—lips grazing her ear—

“Say it again.”

Her fingers dig into the sink— breath ragged— eyes dark.

“G-Get out- Jeon”

I reach out—touch her round belly, feeling my kid inside.Steam curling off her damp skin—the bathroom mirror fogged.

Her belly swollen tight beneath her navel, stretched skin glistening where water droplets cling. Breasts heavier now—full, hanging soft—nipples darkened to angry red I’ve bitten raw too many times. My marks bloom across her collarbones—purple fingerprints, teeth-scars along her inner thighs—all proof of how often I take what’s mine.

Her breath comes fast—shallow—as my reflection behind her.

I don’t touch yet.

her throat work around nothing.

"Say it again."

Her fingers curl in fists.

"G-Get out—"

I press closer—she gasp—let her feel how hard i am against her ass. Her eyes glassy.

"J-Jeon—no--don't—"

My palm slid up her thigh—harsh—spreading her wider. She whimpered—already slick. Always slick for me.

I didn’t stop.

I never do.

Her breath fractured into sharp, shuddering gasps as i gripped the swell of her hips—forcing her over the sink. The cold porcelain bit into her belly, her tits pressed flat against the mirror, fogging it with her panicked heat.

"Jeon—stop—"

I didn't.

My tongue dragged slow and filthy up in her ass-rim—wet, deliberate—before biting the plush flesh hard—stain bruises. Her thighs trembled, back bowing deeper under my grip, whimpers tore from her throat.

Her cunt dripping down her thighs.

And it was—glistening, swollen—her body betraying her.

I spread her wider.

Deeper.

Her gasps shattered against the mirror my tongue found her clit instead—rough, merciless—sucking until her legs gave out and she was clinging to the sink, sobbing my name like a curse.Like a prayer."Jeon—stop"

"Ah no- please- please"

Gasps—sharp—my teeth scraped down the curve between her ass.

She arched, fingers scrambling against porcelain, but I didn’t let go.

"You don’t tell me when to stop."

My tongue licked a hot stripe up her center—

She jerked—"F-Fuck—!No-"

But I bending her further, spreading her wider—her swollen belly wedged between her thighs and the sink.

Dripping.

Always dripping for me.

I dragged my tongue up the back of her thigh—slow—savoring the way her muscles jumped beneath my mouth. Her breath hitched—half protest, half shudder—I nipped the soft flesh of her ass before sinking my teeth in.

She cried out.

My hands dug into her hips, holding her in place—I licked, bit, claimed—until her legs shook and her defiance cracked into ragged cries. I get up.

She trembles against the sink—her reflection flushed, lips parted—I dragged my cock against her soaked cunt.

And pushes in—hard—where my kid had stretched her tightest—

Her knees buckled.

I held her up.

Because if she falls, I’ll catch her.

And if she screams— I’ll swallow that too.

____________________________________

"Boss—" Minho bursts in, breath ragged—"Scorpions left another message."

He shoves the tablet forward—screen glaring bright.

Our man—hung upside down. One leg gone. One hand missing. Blood pools beneath him like spilled ink. But behind him spray-painted on the wall in dripping red—

"TOO CLOSE FOR THE QUEEN."

Silence.

My fingers tighten around the glass—one more second and it shatters in my grip.

Too close to her?

Too fucking close?

They think they’ll ever lay eyes on her?

They think I’ll let them breathe long enough to whisper her name in the wind?

Fuckers.

I slam the glass—it shatters against the floor—Minho tenses. The others freeze.

A beat.

"W-We confirmed it was indeed scorpions" Minho says.

I stare out the window—the city lights blur—

This shit is going on when she is almost 8 Months...

"Start an operation," I say—another glass fills up fast, whiskey burning all wrong— "Gather all our men underground."

"We've already contacted them, boss."

A pause.

"But there's a problem."

I glance up—he hestitates—"There's a local community that might be involved" he mutters—"And starting operations right now might harm them."

My teeth grits.

Local community? Normal people.They aren't normal anymore, as they already involved with scorpions.

The whiskey tastes like acid on tongue.

Eight months. She's eight months pregnant—vulnerable, exhausted, carrying my everything. And now these cockroaches dare to crawl out of the sewers?

I turn from the window, reflection sharp against the city lights—

"Start . the . operation."

"But boss—" Minho hesitates. "T-the locals. Some are involved. If we move too hard—"

"They stopped being locals the moment they sheltered scorpions."

Silence.

Jisun shifts. "But the elections—politicians are watching us. If civilians get caught in the crossfire—"

I glance at him. "You think those people are civilians anymore?"

He gulps— looks down.

I take a slow sip.

They took Scorpion whispers like gospel. They let their children play near graffiti threatening my wife. They supporting them while knowing what crawled in their basements at night.

No. Civilians don’t get to play both sides. Not when her life’s on the line.

Minho swallows hard. "And the elections? The politicians—"

I glare at him—his mouth shuts immediately. Burn rising hot violent behind my eyes—how dare he even mention the damned elections.

"Boss— I" he swallows "Harming them would cost us. The election is coming, and the politicians are watching us for not moving any risky stunts right now."

My jaw tightens. I close my eyes.

So for all this—I'd let my wife die? Let those assholes talk about her? Make me look like a goddamn incompetent bastard who can't do anything because of some stupid election?

Silence.

I set the glass down hard—too hard—

Not a breath.

I don’t look at them—don’t need to. He knows. They all do.

My wife is eight months pregnant—vulnerable, exhausted, carrying my blood, my heir—and these rats think they can slither close enough to whisper threats?

And I’m supposed to sit still—because of politics? Because some spineless politicians clutching their pearls might clutch them harder?

Like her husband is incompetent? Powerless bastard?

A beat.

The room holds its breath.

"Start the operation."

Silence falls.

Not a breath.

"But boss—the election—"

My gaze flicks at him—he shuts in mid-word.

"Start . It."

His jaw clenches—then a sharp nod. He turns on his heel and walks out, footsteps echoing too loud in quiet.

The door clicks shut behind him.

Silence stretches—thick, heavy—until the distant sounds of phones ringing begins—coded orders passing through channels no politician will ever trace.

Let them watch.

Let them clutch their votes and whisper their warnings.

Tonight—every scorpion nest burns. Every sympathizer learns the price of betrayal. And every last one of them—local or not—will remember:

Jeon doesn’t bow to elections.

Jeon bows to nothing.

I lean back—the leather cool against my neck.

These assholes will never gonna give up, never gonna learn. And now these bastards threaten her when she's carrying my goddamn child.

I sip—her recent ultrasound photo lying on desk.

I pick it up—the image stares back—two small eyes, a round head, one arm raised—more defined every week, growing more powerful…more defenseless...

"Now I have to protect more than ever"

.........

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