His Omega, His Punishment
He dropped Garrick like discarded trash, the man collapsing in a heap, wheezing and broken, whimpering incoherently.
Taehyung turned fully toward me, his presence filling the room like a storm cloud about to unleash hell. Blood speckled his shirt, his hands dripping with it, the metallic tang thick in the air. He stalked closer, each step deliberate and heavy, and I shrank back instinctively, my heart racing anew. "Clara," he murmured, his voice low and dark, laced with possession that made my skin crawl. He reached out, fingers gripping my chin—not gently, but firmly—forcing my tear-streaked face up to meet his gaze.
الفصول الرائجة