The next night, the Jeon mansion was alive with quiet tension. Jungkook had dressed sharp in a black silk shirt, the first two buttons open, his chest tattoos peeking through. He sat in his private lounge, sipping whiskey, one arm draped lazily across Jimin’s shoulders.

Jimin, dressed in only a tiny silk robe, blushed as the older man’s heavy hand rested on his thigh. He didn’t know why he’d been summoned, but he knew Jungkook’s dark eyes meant something dangerous was about to happen.