Jungkook's Little One
Chapter 1
The sound of fists meeting flesh echoed like drums against the walls.
A man screamed - broken, breathless, bones cracking beneath the weight of fists.
His face was already a ruin:
One eye swollen shut, lips split, blood pooling beneath his chin.
Two of the men held him down.
A third delivered blow after blow, mechanical and precise.
Just behind them, seated in silence on a throne-like leather chair elevated on a short stone platform, sat
Protective and possessive, which he never knew he'll be one day.
Jeon Jungkook rules the criminal underworld with silence sharper than any blade.
A man of power and precision, he is feared across continents — a ghost in a tailored suit, never seen twice, never spoken of without trembling.
With black hair, dark eyes that reveal nothing, and a body built like a weapon, Jungkook is both brutally handsome and dangerously unapproachable.
CEO of a multibillion-dollar tech empire by day, executioner and king by night.
He watched, unmoved, legs crossed, one hand resting lazily beneath his chin.
A black button-up clung to his muscled frame, sleeves rolled to the forearms, veins visible.
His black hair was slick back, strands of hair hanging loose on the sides and back.
The man beating the spy stepped back instantly, chest heaving.
Blood dripped from his knuckles onto the cold floor.
The spy coughed, wheezed, and fell limp, shoulders shaking as he tried to speak, only gurgling blood.
One bootstep at a time on the stained floor as he descended from his seat.
His presence spread like cold smoke - impossible to escape, impossible to ignore.
The spy lifted his head weakly and immediately started trembling.
？？？
"N-No... please... please..."
？？？
"I didn't-I swear, I wasn't trying to-!"
Jungkook crouched in front of him, smooth and silent.
And for the first time, the spy felt what it was like to drown without water.
Chapter 2
Jeon Jungkook
"I only asked one question,"
Jungkook said calmly, voice silk wrapped in steel.
Jeon Jungkook
"Who sent you?"
Just the dead calm of someone who's killed so many, it no longer matters.
？？？
"Please-if I tell you, they'll kill me-"
Jungkook tilted his head, slow.
There was something about the way he said it - soft, eerily gentle - that made it worse than a scream.
Jeon Jungkook
"I won't kill you,"
Jeon Jungkook
"Not if you tell me everything."
Tears streamed down the man's cheeks.
He hesitated, body twitching with fear.
But he feared Jeon Jungkook more.
？？？
"The one from Europe-Germany-he said you were growing too fast, that you needed to be slowed down, watched-he paid me, I swear! I didn't want-he said if I didn't, he'd find my family-"
The spy's eyes went wide.
？？？
"W-wait... you said... y-you said-!"
But Jungkook was already walking.
He lifted one hand in the air.
The screaming began behind him.
Jeon Jungkook walked through the steel door into the hallway of his underground headquarters, surrounded by silence.
His black shoes left no sound.
The only light came from the soft glow of wall sconces as he passed, his expression unreadable.
He didn't glance at the guards who bowed.
He didn't need to say a word.
He had just one thought.......
Vincent Kim made a mistake.
He'd be collecting his payment.
Author
Hi guys! I'm back with another Mafia theme story. I hope you like it 🤭
Chapter 3
The door creaked open with a groan like something dying.
He sat up, startled, his thin little frame trembling as he blinked toward the brightness spilling down the stairs.
His long dark curls clung to his cheeks — damp from sweat.
And behind her, the heavy, sharp sound of leather soles — his father.
They didn’t call his name.
Because he didn’t have one.
Helen Kim
“Is it still breathing?”
His mother’s voice echoed coldly through the stone walls.
He flinched, curling tighter against the far corner of the cell — a cracked square of stone surrounded by rusted bars.
His knees tucked under his chin, bare feet on the cold floor.
His thin white nightdress, the only thing he owned, was torn at the shoulder.
He didn’t know how long he’d worn it.
His mother stepped down into view.
His father followed, arms crossed, face already tight with disgust.
Vincent Kim
“We should’ve drowned it at birth.”
Not because he wasn't listening.
Because he didn’t know how to speak properly and didn't want to upset them again.
He whispered finally, voice high and shaky, the syllable tiny as a raindrop in a storm.
His mother’s eyes narrowed.
Helen Kim
“What did it just say?”
He just blinked, lips softly parted, unsure if he’d done something wrong — or right.
His mother raised a hand—
The slap landed across his cheek like thunder.
He whimpered, not from pain — from the sound.
His mother’s hand trembled slightly from the impact, but she said nothing more.
She turned on her heel, heels clacking angrily.
Vincent Kim
“Don’t feed it too much. We’re getting rid of it soon.”
Then the footsteps climbed.
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