His Omega, His Punishment
Not yet.
Beside me, Taehyung slept—peaceful, unguarded, and almost heartbreakingly human. His dark hair fell across his forehead in disheveled waves, catching the faint golden hues of the morning sun. His lashes cast long shadows over his cheeks, and his lips—those same lips that had snarled curses and whispered venom just hours ago—were slightly parted, as if exhaling secrets he wouldn't share in the waking world. He looked younger like this, stripped of the alpha's armor, the rage that twisted his features into something monstrous. For a fleeting moment, I could almost see the boy from the garden again—the one who'd chased fireflies with me under the moonlit oaks, his laughter echoing like
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