|| CHAPTER - 44 ||

•| CHAPTER ~ 44 |•

•|WHEN DEVIL TURNS INTO SAVIOR|•

✿───❀  ♡  ❀───✿

The rest of the day passed without any more interruptions.

Evie stayed focused, keeping her head low and her mind focused. She spent most of her time learning the ropes–listening, observing, and doing what she was told without drawing unnecessary attention to herself. Her manager, a polite middle-aged woman, seemed patient and welcoming, giving her a gentle walkthrough of how the office operated and what her responsibilities would look like in the coming weeks.

No one gave her trouble. No one asked too many questions. Everyone around her was busy with their own tasks, but they still offered her polite smiles in the hallway and nodded when she passed by.

To anyone watching, it was just another normal first day for a new employee.

What Evie didn't know was that Jungkook had made sure of that.

Though he hadn't appeared again after lunch, his shadow lingered in quiet ways–like the way the manager knew her name before she introduced herself, or how her desk had already been arranged perfectly, or how her paperwork had somehow processed faster than usual. No one said anything about it, of course. Not even a whisper. But behind the scenes, his influence had gently threaded its way through her first day–careful, controlled.

As the clock struck six, the office began to wind down. Lights dimmed slightly, the tapping of keyboards slowed, and the soft buzz of conversation replaced the clicking of computer keys. People started packing up their bags, checking their watches, and heading for the exit.

Evie gathered her things in silence, ready to go home and rest her aching feet. She was tired but not in a bad way. The kind of tired that comes with doing something useful. For a moment, as she walked out of the building, she even felt a little proud of herself. She had made it through the day–on her own.

But of course, the peace didn't last long.

Jungkook was waiting just outside.

He leaned casually against his sleek black car, dressed in something too expensive for a simple workday–dark slacks and a half-buttoned shirt that revealed a glimpse of his tattoos. His arms were crossed, expression smug, like he had been waiting for her the whole time as he knew she would come out right then.

She didn't look surprised. Just irritated.

"Great timing," he said, flashing that annoyingly handsome smile. "Figured I'd drive you home. It's your first day–consider it a reward."

Evie didn't slow down. She barely glanced at him as she walked right past. "I'm fine. I'll take the bus."

"Come on," Jungkook called, following her steps with ease, his tone playful but pressing. "Let me do one nice thing without a fight. I don't bite unless asked."

She shot him a look that was more exhausted than amused. "Thanks for your consideration but I don't want anything from you."

"That hurts," he said with mock offense. "I wait around for you like some desperate fanboy and this is what I get?"

"Shut up" she muttered, not even breaking her pace.

Still, he didn't stop. He kept walking beside her, like a shadow that refused to disappear. "Sweetheart, don't be so cold. I'm trying here. It's not easy being this thoughtful, you know."

But she wasn't buying it–not even a little. She had no interest in him, no time for his smooth words or flashy car or that stupid confidence that dripped from every step he took.

To her, he was just a walking headache.

Eventually, when they reached the bus stop, she turned toward him with a tired sigh. "Go home, Jungkook."

He opened his mouth to say something else, maybe to toss in another smug line–but something in her tone finally made him stop. His smirk faltered for just a second.

And then, with a low chuckle, he lifted his hands in surrender.

"Alright," he said, stepping back toward his car. "But you'll come around. You always do."

She didn't respond.

As she boarded the bus and took a seat by the window, Jungkook watched her go, his expression unreadable now. The smirk returned a moment later, softer this time–more calculated.

He wasn't annoyed by her rejection. Not really.

If anything, it made her more interesting.

Because Jungkook wasn't trying to win her over for fun. He wasn't here out of genuine affection. No, his reasons were buried deeper, twisted in something darker.

But she didn't know that yet. And that was exactly how he wanted it.

✦───────────────✦

A few days passed, and life slowly started to fall into place for Evie.

Her routine was simple–exactly how she liked it. She woke up, left early, took the same bus, and walked into the office like she belonged there. The work was surprisingly fulfilling. She enjoyed staying busy, learning new tasks, feeling useful. The salary was good, too. Fair enough to let her contribute at home, help out with groceries, and take the burden off her father's shoulders, who had recently joined back at his new job. Seeing him proud and smiling again filled her with a quiet sense of peace she hadn't felt in a long time.

Everything would've been perfect… if it wasn't for one frustrating, arrogant, constantly lingering problem: Jeon Jungkook.

He'd practically appointed himself as her personal assistant. Wherever she went, there he was–lurking near the hallway, pretending to check his phone by the elevator, conveniently "bumping into" her during breaks.

He acted like some over-attached bodyguard no one hired, sticking to her side with the stubbornness of a mosquito and twice the irritation.

He hovered around her like they were in a relationship, like he had any right to be so present in her space. It wasn't just the office–he texted her day and night. Pointless messages. Annoying comments. Random updates about things she never asked for. Eventually, she just muted his number. She didn't have the energy to argue or block him—ignoring him felt cleaner, colder. And honestly, it seemed to piss him off in the most satisfying way.

Still, he didn't stop. If anything, he got worse.

Sometimes, she'd mention something casually–like needing a charger or craving a specific snack and the next day it would appear at her desk like magic. Jungkook sent her things constantly. Little things he thought she'd like. Things he'd noticed. Things she didn't even remember mentioning.

It wasn't flattering–it was calculated. He was trying to win her over with generosity, pretending it was all harmless, all sweet. But Evie wasn't dumb.

If he was going to act like a fool and offer her everything on a silver plate, then she'd use it. Not because she liked him. Not because she trusted him. But because she could and why shouldn't she? Let him burn his own money and energy.

Let him think he was getting somewhere when in reality, he was being played.

At the office, his behavior was borderline unbearable. He flirted openly–loud enough for others to hear, bold enough to make people talk. He treated her like a girlfriend who just didn't know it yet, acting sweet around the manager, dropping compliments in front of co-workers, making sure everyone saw how "close" they supposedly were. She knew exactly what he was doing–staking some fake claim over her, turning her job into a stage for whatever twisted fantasy he was acting out.

And yet, Evie gave him nothing.

No smiles. No reaction.

She didn't argue, didn't even scold him anymore. At first, it confused him–he clearly expected her to snap back, to yell or threaten or slam a door in his face. But Evie had learned something more powerful than anger: silence.

She gave him nothing. Not even acknowledgment.

Let him run in circles trying to get her attention. Let him wear himself out.

Eventually, he'd get bored. Eventually, he'd move on to the next girl. Guys like him always did.

And until that day came, she would keep doing what she did best–working hard, keeping her head down, and pretending Jungkook didn't exist.

Because the moment she gave him a reaction, she knew he'd win a little more ground.

And Evie? She had no plans of losing–not to someone like him.

And as always morning was bright, but Evie's mind was still foggy from the restless night she had. She hadn't even realized when her bus had reached the office building until the passengers voice pulled her back to reality. With a small sigh, she gathered her bag and stepped out, walking toward the familiar building. Another day, another round of pretending Jeon Jungkook didn't exist.

She enters the office and made her way through the front desk, gave a small nod to the receptionist, and headed toward her department like always, her mind already preparing for the day's tasks. She actually liked the work–it was something she was good at, something that kept her focused.

But the one constant irritation in her otherwise smooth routine waited right ahead, leaning casually against the counter like the smug distraction he always was.

Jungkook was already there, of course, like he lived and breathed just to ruin her peace. A paper coffee cup was in his hand, his sleeves rolled up neatly, showing off the tattoos peeking from his forearm. He looked like he walked straight out of a fashion magazine but unfortunately, his personality didn't match the packaging.

As she walked past him, trying her best not to look in his direction, he held out the coffee cup toward her, a lazy grin on his lips.

"Here," he said, voice smooth and far too casual. "I only took one sip. It's still warm–figured you might need it more than me."

Evie stopped and the audacity surprised her for a second. Her eyes flicked to the cup, then to his hand, then back to his face. He really expected her to drink from the same cup he just had his mouth on?

She didn't say a word. She didn't have to. Her expression said it all–an unimpressed glare mixed with disbelief.

Jungkook, as always, took her silence as an invitation.

"Oh, don't give me that look," he chuckled, cocking his head playfully. "It's not like I'm a snake dropping venom. I mean, sharing makes people fall in love faster, right? Isn't that what those romance books say?"

Without waiting for permission, he gently pushed the cup into her hand, his fingers brushing against hers just slightly longer than necessary. His eyes lingered on her face, admiring it openly like she was his morning view.

"You know," he added smoothly, "you'd look even prettier if you smiled more. But honestly? You already make this office ten times better just by showing up."

Evie didn't respond, just stared at him blankly for a second, holding the cup he had pressed into her hand–and then, just like that, she walked past him.

Without a single word.

Her heels clicked against the floor again, and right as she reached the hallway corner, she passed by the dustbin. With perfect timing and zero hesitation, she dropped the coffee cup straight into dustbin.

Didn't look back. Didn't pause.

She just walked away, calm as ever, like nothing had happened.

Jungkook had seen the whole thing.

His jaw dropped a little in surprise, caught off guard by the blunt rejection. For a second, he stood there frozen, staring at the trash can as if it had personally offended him.

Then, his expression shifted.

He clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring slightly as he exhaled a long, tight breath. That woman was something else. She wasn't just hard to impress—she was a damn fortress. Coldness completely immune to charm. And it was starting to get under his skin.

"She's really not gonna make this easy, huh," he muttered under his breath, his voice low and tense.

But then came that glint in his eyes that hinted he wasn't backing down anytime soon.

Meanwhile, Evie sat at her desk, finally settled, focusing on the work she'd been assigned. Her eyes followed the instructions laid out for her on the screen–clear, well-structured. She liked that. A task with a beginning and an end, no mess—unlike a certain someone who constantly hovered around her like an unwanted shadow.

She adjusted her seat, tapping away at the keyboard while her mind remained locked into her work. The only sound in the room was the soft rhythm of typing and quiet murmurs between colleagues. She was halfway through organizing reports when a voice broke her focus - a soft, friendly one.

"Hey," the guy said, a colleague she'd briefly met the other day–Daniel, maybe? His name had slipped her mind. He held two coffee cups in hand. "Got myself one, figured I'd bring some for the rest. Thought you might want one, too."

His tone was casual, easy-going. Nothing uncomfortable or suggestive. Just... kind.

Evie blinked in surprise but nodded, accepting the cup with a grateful smile. "Thank you. That's really sweet."

He grinned, said "No problem," and walked away to the next desk, leaving her with a cup that already made her morning feel ten times better. She placed it beside her laptop and returned to her work, relieved by the brief moment of normalcy.

After a few minutes, her hand reached for the cup absentmindedly, eyes still focused on her screen. She brought it to her lips, craving that first, much-needed sip of caffeine to kick her brain back into gear.

But the cup never touched her lips.

In a swift, unexpected motion, someone snatched it straight out of her hands.

Her head snapped up, startled and visibly irritated, only to find him Jungkook standing beside her desk, holding the cup like it was his to take.

"What the hell—" she muttered, eyes narrowing.

Jungkook raised a brow, his expression unreadable, jaw clenched slightly, voice low but sharp.

"So you can't drink my coffee because I took a sip," he said, holding the cup up with a lazy tilt of his wrist, "but now you're out here accepting it from some other guy? Smiling like that?"

His words weren't loud. They didn't need to be. They were laced with something else–something more dangerous than teasing. Not playful. Not joking. Jealousy, thinly veiled under control.

Evie glared at him, lips tight with frustration. "You drank from that cup. That's why I didn't take it," she said plainly, not interested in explaining herself. "I don't drink from someone else's mouth. Simple."

He stared at her for a beat longer than necessary, eyes narrowing slightly, lips curving–not in amusement, but something colder. Possessive. The expression that said he didn't like what he saw and didn't plan on pretending otherwise.

"You didn't seem to mind accepting it from him," he muttered, more to himself than her. "Didn't even hesitate."

Evie sat back, annoyed but didn't respond, didn't feed into his attitude. Let him bark. She had work to do.

He looked down at the cup, then back at her, and without warning–he brought it to his lips and drank. A deep sip, even though the coffee was still hot. He didn't care. His jaw tightened after the swallow, as if the bitterness of the drink matched the mood brewing inside him.

"You don't get to drink from a man who isn't me," he muttered under his breath, voice dark and low, almost like he wasn't even speaking to her anymore but to the thought clawing at him inside.

His words struck something–possessive, unsettling–but he masked it well, kept his expression unreadable as he stood over her. One hand now resting on the edge of her desk, fingers brushing papers out of place, the other still holding the cup he had just stolen.

The air between them changed slightly. Charged. Tense. Evie's breath hitched.

His actions sure as hell pissed her off.

And yet, she still didn't say anything. She knew men like Jungkook wanted reactions, especially women who stood their ground. So, she stared at her screen again, hands on keyboard as she prepared to return to her work like he wasn't even there.

But he wasn't leaving. She could feel his gaze on her–bold and unrelenting. And before she could even pretend not to notice, he did something she didn't expect.

With no warning, he leaned forward and snapped the laptop shut. Her fingers froze midair, eyes narrowing as she turned toward him, expression cold but about two seconds from boiling.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she snapped as he literally shut the laptop down, but he didn't care. "I didn't save that file."

He tilted his head slightly, unbothered, lips curled into a half-smirk as if her anger amused him. "You'll rewrite it," he muttered, his voice slow and low, but there was something almost dangerous beneath it. "I'm standing here talking to you like a damn fool and you won't even look at me."

Before she could respond, Jungkook reached out, his fingers gripping the side of her chair and with a forceful tug, he dragged it forward, the wheels scraping softly against the floor. Her eyes widened, heart skipping because of how close he suddenly was. His tall frame hovered over her like a shadow. She tried to stood up, pushing his arm away, trying to create distance, but he wasn't letting her off that easy.

"What's your problem, huh?" he said, leaning in closer. "I'm giving you attention most girls would kill for. I'm showing up, being nice, being patient and even apologised to you many times but you're just standing there like none of it matters. Like I don't even exist."

Evie scoffed, put her both hands on his chest to pull him away but he didn't even flinch . "And why the hell would you want my attention? I clearly don't give a fuck about your nonsense attention."

He leaned in, voice dark and low. "But I want it. I want you to stop pretending like I don't exist. I want you to look at me like I matter to you… even just a little."

She looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "That's pathetic," she muttered, shaking her head with a breath of disbelief. "You're really out here begging for attention? Seriously?"

His face twitched for a second–just a flicker–but he didn't back off. "You think you're better than me? You think ignoring me makes you superior? Please. Girls chase me. Not the other way around."

Evie shoot him a glare. "Then go chase them. Why waste your energy on someone who clearly doesn't give a shit about you?"

He blinked, lips twitching. "Because you're the one I want."

She tilted her head slightly, unimpressed. "Well, guess what? You're not my type."

Okay. Not gonna lie but this literally hit his pride.

His cocky smile faltered. "Not your type?" he repeated, stunned. "I'm not your type?"

Evie stared blankly at him, voice calm. "No. The type of guy I like is actually the opposite of you. The people like you are totally turn off for me and I don't find them attractive."

He let out a dry laugh, not because he found it funny–but because it pissed him off. "Let me guess… soft-spoken, polite, wears glasses, probably listens to old-school love songs and brings you flowers every weekend? Real romantic, right?" he mocked, leaning closer. "Like Taehyung?"

She froze at the mention of his name and it did something inside her but she didn't react in front of him.

But Jungkook noticed.

"Oh, right…" he whispered, lips curling into something bitter. "That's what you like. The sweet ones. The gentle ones. The ones who smile at your parents and kiss you under the stars. And then ditch you for others because they get bored from you, right?"

She clenched her jaw, staying quiet, refusing to bite. He wanted a reaction. He was dying for one. But she wasn't going to give it to him–not on his terms.

"You really have no idea, do you?" he said, voice turning darker. "You say you don't like me, that I'm not your type–but maybe you're just scared I'll break down that wall and prove that you do like me. That you already do. And you hate yourself for it."

"You done?" she asked flatly.

But Jungkook wasn't. "Or maybe…" he smirked, eyes scanning her up and down like he was peeling back her every defense, "you're not into men at all. Maybe that's it. Maybe you're a lesbian?"

Evie stared at him, lips parting in pure disbelief. "Are you insane?"

He shrugged, casually arrogant. "I mean… if you don't like me, what other explanation could there be? Either you are asexual or lesbian."

"You're an idiot."

"I've been called worse," he replied, eyes narrowing in on her, his voice dropping to something more seductive. "But you can keep pretending all you want. Just know–I'm not backing off. I like a challenge. And I know it already–this cold act of yours? It's not gonna last."

Footsteps sounds came in the hallway outside, voices getting closer, and just like that, Jungkook took a subtle step back. His expression shifted back to neutral–too quickly, too perfectly.

But right before he turned to leave, he leaned just enough to whisper, "Keep pushing me away, Sweetheart. I'm patient… but not forever. One day, you'll get used to me. You'll crave me. And when that day comes… I'm not letting you go."

And then he walked off, leaving her sitting on same chair, fists clenched, lips pressed into a hard line, and heart pounding from the sheer nerve of the man who seemed too sure he could break her.

Forcing herself to calm, refusing to let anyone see how close she was to losing her cool. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

The day had drained every bit of energy from her. It wasn't just emotionally exhausting because of Jungkook's usual annoying antics-no, today had been genuinely overwhelming. There was too much work and urgent deadlines that left her no time to think about anything or anyone else. In fact, for the first time in days, she didn't even notice whether Jungkook had crossed her path again. He didn't disturb her. Maybe he was caught up with something or busy showing off somewhere else. Either way, she didn't care.

By the time she shut down her system and stretched her aching back, it was already dark outside. The office had grown eerily quiet as most people had packed up and left an hour ago. She hadn't realized how late it had gotten until she stepped out into the cold evening air. The sky had turned almost black, and the streetlights barely lit the path outside the office gate. A heavy silence settled over the road, broken only by the occasional sound of a car engine or the rustling of leaves in the night wind.

And as usual–of course–Jungkook was there.

Leaning casually against his car like he didn't have a single care in the world, arms crossed, dressed in his signature style that looked more expensive than necessary. His gaze immediately shifted toward her the moment she stepped out of the building. And just like every other night, she knew what was coming.

"I'll drop you," he said, his tone more serious this time. It wasn't the usual cocky or playful attitude he had when offering her a ride every evening just to annoy her.

She didn't even glance at him as she walked right past him without sparing a second of her attention. "I can go by myself. When you already know that I always go by myself then why even bother me everytime and wasting your time."

"It's late," he said again, ignoring her as always. "And it's dark. That route you take? Not exactly safe. I don't trust it."

She stopped for a second, turned her head slightly, just enough to throw a glare in his direction. "I'm not a kid. I know my way home. And I'm not going alone–I'm taking the bus, like always. I'll call my dad if I need anything."

He stepped forward but didn't argue. There was something calmer about him today, like he wasn't trying to win, wasn't trying to impress or tease – he was just there. "I'm not trying to bother you today. I'm not being cute or arrogant," he said, hands in his pockets now, voice quieter but firm. "I just don't want you walking alone this late. That's all."

She didn't reply. She turned around again, walked away, and didn't even look back. She hated how sometimes he said things like that–sincerely and made her question for a moment whether he really was all that bad. But she reminded herself not to fall for it. He was still him. Still rude. Still overconfident. Still the same man who couldn't take no for an answer.

The bus was already at the stop when she reached it, and thankfully, not too crowded. She climbed in and found a seat by the window, letting out a breath of relief as she leaned her head against the cool glass. Today had been too much. Her shoulders ached, her eyes burned, and her mind begged for quiet.

As the bus began to roll forward, she closed her eyes, allowing the soft breeze coming through the open window to brush against her face. It felt like a small mercy after such a long, tiring day.

People around her chatted quietly. A couple near the back laughed over something on their phone. Two middle-aged women talking with each other about random stuff. And eventually, one by one, they all began to get off at their stops. The bus slowly emptied as it moved farther toward the outer streets. She opened her eyes just in time to recognize her stop and stood up, stretching her stiff legs before stepping off.

The streets she walked now were familiar–she took this route home almost every day. It was a shortcut through a quiet residential area, a bit isolated but usually safe. But tonight, something felt off. The air was colder. The houses looked darker. Streetlights flickered like they hadn't been maintained in weeks. It was the kind of darkness that made you feel like you weren't alone, even if you couldn't see anyone.

She wrapped her arms around herself, walking a little faster. And just when she was trying to convince herself that nothing was wrong, she saw them.

A group of men–four, maybe five–stood by the corner ahead, gathered under the dim glow of a streetlight. They were laughing loudly, bottles in their hands, their voices echoing through the empty street.

Her heart skipped. She slowed down slightly, instinctively fixing her clothes, pulling her purse tighter around her chest, tucking her hair behind her ears, doing anything to make herself look smaller, less noticeable. They were just people. Just guys hanging out. She couldn't assume the worst. That's what she told herself.

But then… their eyes locked on her.

The laughter got louder. One of them whistled. Another elbowed his friend, pointing at her like she was some showpiece walking straight into their trap. Her pulse quickened. Her feet wanted to run, but she knew better than to panic. Just keep walking, she told herself. Just keep walking and don't look scared.

"Where you going, beautiful?" one of them called out, voice slurred and full of mockery.

She pretended not to hear. Pretended to be deaf. Pretended they weren't there.

But suddenly–two of them stepped right in front of her, blocking her path.

"Don't be shy now," one of them said, stepping closer, invading her space, his breath reeking of alcohol. She raised her voice, her tone sharp and panicked, "What are you even doing!" But they only laughed louder, enjoying her discomfort.

Before she could turn back, a rough hand grabbed her arm. Another one slid across her back, and her skin crawled in disgust. "Let go of me!" she shouted, shoving against the man's chest, but he didn't budge. One of them caught her from behind, pulling her close. She screamed again, but a large, filthy hand clamped over her mouth. Her heart raced wildly, vision blurring with fear.

In desperation, she bit down hard on the man's palm. The men yelped and recoiled in pain as she bite on his hand, but not before he slapping her across the face–so hard that she stumbled back, her cheek burning instantly, lips splitting open with the force. She tasted blood. For a moment, everything spun.

They grabbed for her again, but she kicked wildly, landing a blow in one of the crotch of one of the men. A cry of pain escaped the man, and she twisted away, sharp fingernails raking across her neck as another men tried to hold her.

Evie didn't stop to think. She started run, breath shallow, eyes darting everywhere. Her purse dropped somewhere behind her, but survival was all that mattered now. Behind her, she could hear them cursing, shouting threats as their footsteps followed, heavy and angry. Her lungs burned, her legs moved on their own.

Don't fall. Don't look back. Just run.

But her instinct made her glance behind–just for a second. That second was all it took for her to collide with something–or someone–solid and unyielding. She gasped, about to fall, but before her knees could give out, two strong arms caught her.

She blinked rapidly, heart hammering wildly, and when her vision cleared… her breath caught in her throat.

It was Jungkook.

His face was unreadable, but his eyes–dark, sharp, furious–held the rage that sent chills down her spine. His jaw clenched, his expression dangerous, and yet… he said nothing. He just stood there, holding her tightly, eyes locked not on her but on the sound of the footsteps approaching from behind.

His eyes slowly scanned her, from the mess of her hair to the scratch bleeding faintly along her neck, and then down to the thin line of blood trailing from the corner of her mouth. His jaw clenched so tightly she could see the veins along his neck.

She couldn't stop the tears. She didn't even know she was crying until she felt them slipping down her cheeks. Her chest was still rising and falling erratically, fingers gripping his shirt like she didn't know what else to hold on to.

She didn't know how he found her or if he'd followed her all along. But right now, none of it mattered. She was shaking, and his grip just got tighter–protective, possessive, as if even the wind around her needed his permission to touch her.

The laughter behind her snapped his attention away from her face. The men drunk, grinning stood at a short distance, swaying slightly as one of them slurred, "Hey! Who you are and What's your problem, man? Leave her. We were just having fun."

Another chuckled, "You better walk away before things get ugly."

That was it.

Jungkook's grip released her abruptly. He stepped forward with a silence more threatening. His fists were already clenched, body tense like a storm ready to break. His voice was dangerously low when he finally spoke, so cold it burned. "Do you even know who I am?" he said, slowly. "You put your hands on her...." His lip curled. "You just signed your fucking death wish."

Before they could even process the words, he moved.

He launched at them with a speed that didn't give time for defense. The first punch landed hard–a sickening thud of fist meeting jaw, and the man went down with a cry. The second tried to swing back, but Jungkook caught his wrist mid-air, twisted it until something cracked, then slammed his knee into the guy's gut. He was ruthless. Unforgiving. There was no hesitation, no moment of mercy–only a dark rage spilling out of him.

Even when blood smeared across his knuckles, even when one of them managed to scratch him with a ringed hand, Jungkook didn't stop. His punches were precise, brutal, and fueled by something far more dangerous than anger. It was wrath.

"You fuckers?" Jungkook hissed between blows, breathing heavy but steady.

Another tried to crawl away. Jungkook grabbed the back of his collar and pulled him back like a rag doll. "Get up," he growled. "You wanted to play brave. Now act like it."

And then he sent him flying with a kick to the ribs that echoed across the empty street.

Eventually, when the three of them were bloodied and whimpering, stumbling away in fear, Jungkook stood still–not chasing. Just standing there, chest rising with slow, measured breaths, fists red, shirt slightly torn near the elbow. The street was quiet except for the distant buzz of a flickering light and the retreating footsteps of the cowards who dared to touch her.

His eyes–dark–didn't follow the men. They found her.

And they didn't soften.

He said nothing.

His eyes were dark, and he was quiet. She could see his eyes twitch in pure darkness. The voice in her throat couldn't get out, but still, she forced herself to speak and meet his eyes. He looked dangerously intense, and for the first time, she saw him like this.

Before she could say much–barely whispering an apology, voice shaking and cracking. "I… I'm sorry. I should've listened to you… I didn't think anything would happen..... I've always walked this way, it's always safe… I swear I—"

He cut her off sharply, his voice low, that demanded silence through sheer command. "Keep your fucking mouth shut," he growled, eyes locked on hers like a storm threatening to tear everything apart.

She immediately went quiet. Her lips quivered, but she didn't dare utter another word.

Without another look, he shrugged off his jacket and handed it to her. But when she hesitated, too stunned and still processing what had just happened, his patience burned out.

He snatched it back from her weak grip and forcefully wrapped it around her himself, his jaw tightening so hard she could see the muscle twitching beneath his skin.

He grabbed the collar of the jacket she now wore, pulling her close, his fingers curling into the fabric.

"What the hell do you even think of yourself?" he muttered in a voice so dark it didn't even sound like him. "Do you even realise what the fuck could've happened if I hadn't followed you?"

His breath was heavy, yet controlled. Dangerous. "You walk around like you're untouchable. Like your goddamn ego protects you more than common sense ever could. You think acting stubborn makes you strong? Those bastards could've done things to you–fucking unspeakable things and you're out here trying to prove what? That you don't need anyone?" His tone was fury, but under it all was unspoken fear at what might've happened if he hadn't followed her and shown up at right time.

She looked away, eyes stinging, unable to meet the wrath in his eyes.

But Jungkook wasn't finished. He grabbed her chin with one hand, forcing her to look at him. His grip was firm enough to stop her from avoiding him, to make sure she saw what was in his eyes.

"Look at me," he hissed quietly.

Her breath hitched. His eyes… they weren't just angry–they were haunted. Dark. Possessive. And something about the way he was looking at her, like he had been two seconds away from losing her, made her feel incredibly small.

This wasn't the usual bickering–it was something more primal. He scanned her face, turning it slightly in his hand to check the extent of her injuries. The small gash on her lower lip, the slap mark blooming red across her cheek, and that scratch on her neck–all of it made his jaw clench tighter.

He didn't speak, but his silence was louder than any rage-filled scream. His eyes darkened even further as he looked down, checking to see if her clothes were torn or if there were other signs that they had tried to do more.

He exhaled through his nose, slow and heavy. "Did you get injury.... apart from them also?" he asked in a dangerously calm voice, so low she barely heard it.

She shook her head quickly, tears still rolling down her face, her voice lost in the knot in her throat.

He glanced over her again–her dress was messy but still. It was enough to make him unclench just a little. He let go of her face, his hand lingering for a second too long, like he wasn't ready to let go but forced himself to.

Then he stepped back, walked away without a word, picked up her fallen purse and bag from the middle of the road, and returned. He grabbed her wrist firmly and started dragging her back toward the car that had been parked a little distance away. The silence between them was thick with everything unsaid.

When they reached the car, he opened the door and looked at her with a look that demanded obedience.

"Sit inside and I don't want to hear anything useless from you and specially not show me your nonsence attitude," he said, voice as sharp.

There was no room for argument. She quietly slid inside the car, wiping her face as she sat. The warmth of his jacket wrapped around her now felt like a shield–one she didn't know she needed this badly.

He walked around to the driver's side, got in without saying a word, his fingers still stained with someone else's blood. His jaw was still tight, his knuckles still bleeding, but he didn't even seem to notice.

And for the first time, she didn't try to act strong.She just sat there, silent.

Because something told her—he wasn't done yet.