Chapter 4: The Morning Shadow

The darkness of the room didn't lift all at once. It slowly bled into a cold, steel-grey morning.

I woke up with a gasp, my body jerking as if I were dodging a punch in a dream. But there was no opponent. There was only the expensive wool rug scratching against my cheek and the dull, throbbing ache in my ribcage.

I hadn't moved all night. I had curled up in the corner like a stray dog, refusing to touch the bed.

I sat up, groaning as my stiff muscles protested.

The first thing I looked at was the door.

I stared at the brass handle, willing it to turn. I waited for a miracle. But it remained frozen, a silent reminder that I was property now, not a person.

Click.

The sound was sharp, metal grinding against metal.

I scrambled backward, pressing my spine against the wall.

The handle turned. The door swung open.

It wasn't the maid.

Kim Taehyung stood in the doorway.

He looked infuriatingly perfect. He was wearing a black silk shirt with the top two buttons undone, and black trousers that draped effortlessly over his long legs. He held a silver tray in one hand.

He stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind him with his heel.

His eyes scanned the empty bed. The pristine, untouched sheets.

Then, his gaze lowered to the floor. To me.

A flicker of annoyance crossed his face. It was the look a collector might give a painting that hung crooked on the wall.

"The bed costs twenty thousand dollars," Taehyung said, his voice husky with morning sleep. "And you slept on the floor."

I glared up at him, hugging my knees to protect my injured chest.

"I don't sleep in cages," I rasped. My throat was dry.

"It is a bedroom, Jungkook," Taehyung corrected calmly. He walked over to the small table by the window and set the tray down. The smell of coffee and toast filled the room, making my stomach cramp with hunger.

"A bedroom has a lock on the inside," I spat back. "A cell has a lock on the outside."

Taehyung ignored my outburst. He poured a cup of coffee. Black. No sugar.

"Get up," he ordered.

I didn't move. I calculated the distance between us. He was about ten feet away. The door was behind him. He was slender. I was a fighter. Even with a cracked rib, I could take him.

If I could just get past him...

"Don't," Taehyung said, not even looking at me. He took a sip of coffee. "I can hear your brain working. You are thinking about running."

He turned slowly to face me.

"You have a cracked rib, a concussion, and a bruised knee. You wouldn't make it to the hallway."

"Watch me," I snarled.

Adrenaline spiked through my veins, masking the pain. I pushed off the wall and lunged.

I was fast. I was used to striking before the opponent could blink.

But Taehyung didn't flinch. He didn't step back.

As I rushed past him toward the door, he simply reached out. He didn't punch me. He didn't tackle me.

He grabbed my injured shoulder—right where the bruise was deepest—and squeezed.

"Argh!"

The pain was blinding. My knees buckled instantly.

I collapsed forward, but I didn't hit the floor. Taehyung caught me.

His arm wrapped around my waist, hauling me up against his chest. For a moment, it looked like an embrace. But it was a trap.

He held me tight, his body hard and unyielding against mine. I was panting, sweat breaking out on my forehead from the pain.

"Shh," Taehyung whispered into my hair.

He maneuvered us until my back was pressed against the wall, pinning me there with his body. He wasn't even out of breath.

"You are so eager to break yourself," he murmured, his face inches from mine. "Why?"

"Let... me... go," I gasped, trying to push him away. But my arms felt like lead.

"If I let you go, you fall," Taehyung said simply.

He reached up with his free hand. His cool fingers brushed the hair out of my eyes. The touch was gentle, mocking the violence of his grip on my waist.

"You are a fighter, Jungkook. I respect that. But in this house, you do not fight with your fists."

He leaned in closer. I could smell the coffee on his breath.

"You fight by enduring. You fight by staying still."

He stared into my eyes, searching for that defiance he loved so much. He found it. I glared at him with pure hatred.

"I will kill you," I whispered.

Taehyung smiled. A small, genuine, terrifying smile.

"Maybe," he agreed softy. "But not today. Today, you are going to drink your coffee. You are going to let me change your bandages. And then... we go back to the studio."

He released me slowly, making sure I could stand on my own before stepping back.

The heat of his body lingered on my skin like a burn.

"Eat," he commanded, pointing to the tray. "The paint is waiting."

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