Yn pov
It is Him.
Jungkook
My hands froze before touching his jacket, mind racing as the engine growled to life.
What the hell is going on?
This couldn't be real.
My mind spun so fast I felt dizzy. This is not possible. It had to be a trick--my brain playing games with me after too many late nights and too little sleep. I gathered the tangled threads of my sanity and dared to ask, my voice barely above a whisper, "Miles?"
The answer came like a whipcrack.
"Yeah, we're gonna have a ride for miles, miss foxy."
Every hair on my body stood up.
That voice. That taunting lilt. That effortless cockiness laced with danger.
Jungkook.
No.
No way.
My brain short-circuited. How? He had left with Fallon just forty minutes ago. I saw him. Fallon told me her brother's house was nearly an hour and a half away--one way. Even if he'd dropped her like a parcel and turned right back, there was no way he could've made it back in time. No way he could've gotten here, changed clothes, positioned himself on this bike, and waited for me like it was part of some master plan.
It is inhuman.
It is terrifying.
But while my head screams logic, my body freezes as he starts the engine again. Before I can even lift my leg off the seat, his gloved hand wraps tightly around my thigh.
Firm.
Controlling.
Possessive.
My breath hitches.
The bike surges forward with a roar.
Forget getting off. I can barely breathe.
Within ten seconds, we're flying.
I don't even know machines can move like that. My hands clutch at his jacket instinctively, fingers curling into the leather like it's the only solid thing left in my world. The wind screams past me, cold and sharp, slicing against my skin. I can't hear a thing--not the engine, not the night, not even my own heartbeat over the rush of speed.
But what chills me more than the velocity is how he drives.
It isn't reckless. It isn't wild.
It's calculated.
Every turn, every lane switch, every lean of his body feels trained. Professional. Like he's been doing this for years. Like the bike is just an extension of his body. As though speed doesn't scare him--it belongs to him.
The city falls away behind us, lights fading into darkness. We pass into unfamiliar roads, deserted highways, winding paths that lead nowhere I recognize.
I stop trying to ask questions. I stop trying to guess.
I just hold on.
After what feels like forever--nearly an hour--we finally reach what can only be described as the edge of the world.
The city is gone. In its place stands a dense forest, trees towering like silent guards around the twisted road that leads us deeper and deeper into the dark. And then--
A massive iron gate.
It creaks open as if it's been expecting us.
Behind it, a vast, eerie property stretches into the shadows. And at the center of it all stands a mansion--no, a fortress disguised as one. Towering walls, jet-black glass windows, sharp architecture that makes it look both majestic and dangerous. Haunted. Almost regal. The kind of place you read about in haunted fairytales where curses are real and no one leaves once they enter.
The mansion stands tall and unapologetic amidst a dead garden. Trees with hollowed branches, rose bushes that haven't seen life in seasons, cracked stone paths winding like forgotten secrets.
But still…...
It's beautiful.
In a chilling, mesmerizing, impossible way.
The contrast is too perfect. Everything around it is ghosted, barren, lifeless but the mansion itself is pristine. Maintained.
Lived in.
Alive.
And as the bike finally comes to a stop in front of the steps, my heart pounds with a single, consuming thought.
What the hell have I walked into?
--------
"Are you not getting down?"
The voice slices through the night, making me flinch so hard I nearly knock the helmet off my head.
I scramble off the bike, suddenly hyper-aware of how tightly I've clung to him during the ride. My hands are still tingling, traitorously remembering the press of leather and muscle beneath them. I feel exposed, ashamed, even for having held onto him like my life depends on it. Which, in hindsight, it might've.
Jungkook steps off the bike with his signature calm grace, pulling off his helmet in one fluid motion and revealing that maddeningly smug face. His dark hair is slightly damp with sweat, tousled from the helmet, falling into those unreadable eyes. He doesn't even look winded after the ride. In fact, he looks energized.
"No need to think about running away," he says coolly, slinging the helmet onto the handlebar. "You don't know the way back. And if you somehow get lucky and guess it wild animals won't let you survive alone in these woods."
His voice is smooth, but the threat behind the words is unmistakable.
I stiffen. That same coil of fear twists deeper into my gut, but what's worse, far worse is the confusing swirl of emotions tangled inside me. This is Jungkook. The same Jungkook who smirked at me in that club. Who has a hold on me in ways I don't fully understand. And who is Fallon's brother.
Who has now brought me to a place I don't know…...alone.
I follow him in silence. Not out of obedience, but instinct. My brain screams at me to be smart, not reckless.
We enter the mansion, and immediately my breath hitches.
It's beautiful.
And terrifying.
The grand hallway opens up before me. High vaulted ceilings loom overhead, lined with intricate crown molding carved in black marble. Dim golden lights glow from chandeliers that hang like upside-down trees of fire. The walls are painted in varying shades of grey and charcoal, with streaks of deep obsidian that make everything look richer, darker, more secretive.
Paintings adorn the walls--
ancient-looking, moody, and haunting. Portraits of unknown people with solemn eyes, landscapes that seem to move when you're not looking directly at them, and one that steals my breath-- a woman dancing barefoot in fire. Her face is turned away, but her silhouette looks eerily like Fallon.
There are statues, too. Smooth black stone molded into abstract shapes and humanoid figures. One by the grand staircase looks like an angel with shattered wings--its head bowed, its hands holding a cracked clock.
To the left of the hallway, a piano sits in its own little sanctuary--a grand black Steinway with polished ivory keys and a single rose resting atop it. The air smells like cedarwood, faint leather, and something vaguely metallic. Everything is curated. Cold. Expensive. And undeniably intimidating.
But I'm too busy looking around to notice that Jungkook has turned to lock the main door behind us.
Click.
The metallic sound echoes through the hall, snapping my attention back.
"What are you doing?" I ask, taking a step back.
He turns slowly to face me, his expression unreadable. "Locking the door," he says flatly. "Can't let the fox run free before I get my answers."
My stomach drops.
He steps closer, eyes dark with curiosity and something more dangerous underneath. "Now tell me, Miss Foxy," he drawls, tilting his head, "why did you sneak into my club that night? And don't act clueless. I know it was you."
I open my mouth but no words come out. My heart pounds so loud it muffles every coherent thought in my head.
"And," he adds, taking another step forward, "when I came to your dorm that night, you were moaning in your sleep."
*No--*
"Having a wet dream about me."
My breath catches.
I feel the blood drain from my face, my legs frozen, my thoughts shattering like glass. I don't even remember all the details of that dream, but I know it had been heated, carnal….. shameful.
Jungkook's eyes burn into mine.
"What are your intentions exactly, YN?"
That's it.
My body snaps out of its freeze like a switch has flipped. I don't answer. I can't.
Instead, I *run.*
My heels click desperately against the black marble as I turn and bolt toward the staircase. I can hear him moving behind me, calmly, methodically--no urgency, no panic. He knows he has the upper hand.
I take the stairs two at a time, nearly tripping on the edge of the sleek, black-carpeted steps. I don't care. I run.
Left or right?
Right.
I dash down the hallway, heart in my throat, my breath ragged, until I see it, a room at the end of the hall with a heavy wooden door. I don't hesitate. I lunge forward, grab the knob, fling the door open, and stumble inside. I slam it shut behind me and twist the lock just in time.
Click.
I back away from the door, breathing like I've just outrun death. The silence that follows is louder than anything. My body trembles as I press myself against the far wall of the room.
What now?
For how long can this door protect me?
My eyes dart around the room. It's a bedroom. Grand, of course. Black and burgundy furnishings, velvet curtains, and a large bed in the center with thick satin sheets. The air smells faintly of sandalwood and something darker. The fireplace at the corner glows dimly, casting flickering shadows on the walls.
But none of it matters.
Because Jungkook is on the other side of that door.
And he wants answers.
My mind keeps looping the same impossible question-- How? How does he get here so fast? Has he ever gone home with Fallon, or has that all been a calculated illusion? Is he even human?
Because no normal person moves like that. No one switches between identities, outfits, voices with such terrifying precision. And his presence… it doesn't just fill a room--it consumes it.
I clutch the edge of a chair near the door, knuckles white, breath shallow.
I'm scared.
Terrified, even.
But beneath it, just like in that dream, I'm also curious. Drawn in. Caught between the storm and the eye of it.
Why is he so interested in me?
What game is he playing?
He knows about me sneaking.
He knows I've been dreaming about him.He knows more than he should.
My phone. Where is my phone?
I reach into my purse with shaking hands, fumbling to grab it but there's no signal. Of course there isn't.
We're in the middle of nowhere.
Isolated.
Trapped.
And Jungkook….. Jungkook is still out there.
Waiting.
Hunting.
And sooner or later, that door will open.
And I'll have to face him, whether I'm ready or not.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.