You’ve no fucking right to kill someone so brutally!

Taehyung's POV

“Have you lost your mind?” she shrieked.

Not pleading. Accusing.

“You’ve no fucking right to kill someone so brutally!”

My hands itched to silence her. To erase that insolence. But her fire only made me want more.

I barked a laugh—short, sharp. “Is people’s life a joke to you?”

It was an accusation. Not a real question. I could have lied. I didn't.

“You think you’re God?” Clara demanded, stepping closer. “You think you can do anything and no one will stop you?”

I met her gaze, letting the cold sink through my bones. “I don’t think, Luna. I know.”

Then I pointed the gun at Park again. Watched his eyes roll with fear.

Pulled the trigger.

The bullet tore through muscle and floor; his howling was music to my bones.

Clara’s hands flew to her mouth in horror, tears springing free, voice breaking. You’d think I’d be sated with that. I wasn’t. I glanced at the others—watched them avert their eyes. No one had the balls to move, not even my most trusted lieutenants.

“If you say her name again,” I said to the room at large, my voice a winter wind, “if you even look at her wrong, I will put a bullet through your skulls. I will not kill fast. I will not kill clean.”

I locked eyes with the men. All of them.

Let them see the truth in what I could do.

Still—not enough. The beast in me was hungry, unsatisfied.

I looked at Clara. She was trembling, but her spine was steel.

You want cruelty? I thought. I’ll give you cruelty.

---

Blood. Smoke. Broken teeth.

The room was a slaughterhouse.

I raised the gun and pumped the remaining bullets into their legs, into the floor, not killing—maiming. Park howled loudest. Min fainted at some point; maybe from pain, maybe from terror.

“Alpha… please…” Park sobbed, snot and blood mingling in his beard.

Clara stepped forward, voice raw, “Stop it! I said stop!” Her hands flailed—tiny fists, helpless in this ocean of violence.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Metal clicked empty. At last.

The floor was a puddle of red. The only things that moved were the sticky trails of blood and Clara’s shallow, ragged breathing.

She stared.

“You’re a devil,” she whispered, tears mixing with spit, voice shattering. “A merciless devil. You don’t have a fucking heart, Alpha.”

I stepped toward her. I savored the way that look twisted her lips—terror, disgust, fury, maybe something else in equal measure.

She shrank back. Good.

“You ran your mouth too much tonight, little wolf,” I murmured—stone cold, all mask, all king.

“Don’t come closer.” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t collapse. “I swear to the moon—don’t. Not this way.”

I sneered, echoing old scars in my throat.

“Oh, now you’re begging again? After all your defiance?” I stalked closer, letting every ounce of my height and strength crowd the tiny space between us.

“You should’ve thought of that before you defended men who wanted to undress you with their filthy eyes.”

Her eyes blazed. “I didn’t defend them! I defended human life! Something you know nothing about!”

I closed the last foot between us, my breath a furnace—hers shaky and fast. My hand crashed into the wall by her head, pinning her in place. My bloodstained fingers stained the whitewashed stone behind her.

She trembled—not in surrender, but in fury.

“You need to learn consequences,” I growled low. “You think words don’t have weight, Clara? You think your tears can clean blood?”

She flinched, but her voice didn’t break. “Stop— You don’t get to touch me. You don’t get to hurt me just because you’re in pain.”

I kissed her then.

No warning, no softness—crushing her mouth with mine, tasting salt and iron. Punishment, pure and simple. She tried to fight—a gasp, a shove against my chest. But I didn’t relent. I pressed her against the wall with my hips, crushing the distance and the air from her lungs.

“Do I need your fucking permission, little wolf?” I snarled when our lips parted.

Her lip quivered, but her eyes burned—like wildfire, refusing to die.

“Yes,” she said, voice a whip crack. “You do.”

Her whole body was shaking, but her will was unbroken. Unyielding.

That made something break open inside me—not like mercy.

Like addiction.

I smiled—no softness at all. Just hunger, and threat, and frozen hell.

“You think your trembling lips and teary eyes will stop me?” I whispered, one hand gripping her waist, pulling her flush. Her body was heat against my cold.

She gasped. “You don’t want this…”

“No,” I breathed against her lips, deadly soft, “you don’t want to want this.”

Then I claimed her again—harder, devouring, as if taking the very air from her lungs would make her submit.

She fought like a starved wolf.

Beating her fists into my chest, dragging her nails across my skin, desperate and wild.

For a second I wanted to let her win—to step back, to prove to her some shred of me was more than beast. But the mafia in me, the king, the Alpha, had no such weakness.

I kept her pinned until her protests faltered, until her breath came in little sobs and every muscle in her body sang with adrenaline and hate and something heartbreakingly alive.

“You’re mine now,” I whispered against her swollen lips. “Not because I love you. But because I own the fire that burns you.”

She shoved me then. Hard. Pure willpower.

I let her.

Her chin was high, eyes wide, lips bruised. Tears streaked her cheeks but she did not beg.

“You’re not a monster, Alpha,” she said, quiet and deadly certain. “You just want to be one. Because loving me would make you weak.”

The words struck home—deeper than bullets.

She turned, spine straight, feet bloody from stepping in the gore, her dress torn. She walked past the ruined men, past their groans, holding her head high.

Didn’t run. Didn’t beg.

Just walked away.

And I stood in the carnage—hands dripping with my enemies’ blood, gun still warm from violence, watching the only creature in my world I could not truly break.

A primal part of me wanted to drag her back, punish her for being right. For surviving me. For making me want things I’d sworn I’d never want again.

But I let her go.

Because when a beast falls for a warrior, the war never really ends.

---

The room was silent but for the groans of dying men and the distance between her heart and mine.

Let everyone see.

I did not need their love.

I did not need her love.

I ruled by fear, and tonight, I’d made the world remember why.

But Clara—she did not fear my darkness.

She dared me to wear it as a crown.

She had not lost to the devil.

She’d declared war on him.

And some wicked, broken, bloody part of me was glad.