Chapter 3: Poisoned Threads

A week had passed in the cage of luxury, and Taehyung was beginning to feel the shape of his confinement. It wasn’t the cold steel of prison bars. It was silk sheets and imported wine, the too-soft hush of money cushioning every edge. It was the way Jungkook watched him—not as a man watches a lover, but as a hawk watches prey it hasn't decided whether to kill or tame.

He played his role well. The obedient possession. The beautiful pet.

But beneath the surface, Taehyung was already weaving his web.

He studied the patterns of Jungkook’s days: his meetings, his moods, the men who came and went. He kept track of the guards—how often they changed shifts, which ones looked away when he passed. Taehyung had been trained to observe, to survive. And if he couldn’t escape… he would conquer.

One morning, he prepared breakfast for Jungkook. Not as an act of submission, but a challenge.

The bowl of spicy beef broth steamed between them. Jungkook, fresh from a workout, shirt damp and collar open, eyed it with suspicion.

“You cooked?”

“I supervised,” Taehyung replied with a smile. “Let’s call it a peace offering.”

Jungkook raised a brow. “I don’t eat peace. I devour war.”

“Then consider this a ceasefire. Temporary, of course.”

He took a cautious spoonful.

Halfway through the bowl, he paused. His brow furrowed.

“Did you…” he looked at Taehyung sharply. “Poison this?”

Taehyung blinked innocently. “Would I do that?”

“I think you would. What is this burning in my throat?”

“Capsaicin. From ghost peppers. Good for circulation.”

Jungkook dropped his spoon, coughing. “You’re insane.”

Taehyung sipped his tea serenely. “You always wanted a fiery relationship, didn’t you?”

Despite himself, Jungkook laughed. It was short, rough, and quickly stifled—but real.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Tae.”

“I’m not playing,” Taehyung said softly. “This is war. One of us just hasn’t realized it yet.”

Later that day, Jungkook summoned him to a meeting. It was a sit-down with two of his lieutenants and a financier from an allied family. The room was thick with testosterone and tension.

Taehyung took a seat by the window, silent and elegant, watching.

Jungkook’s voice was sharp. “There’s a leak. Someone is feeding intel to the Min clan. I want names.”

His men shifted uncomfortably. The financier, a sleek man named Ryu, tried to deflect. “Leaks are normal in our line of work. The important thing is—”

“No.” Jungkook’s voice cut like glass. “The important thing is loyalty. Which I will test personally, if I must.”

He glanced at Taehyung then—just for a second—and something passed between them.

After the meeting, Jungkook caught him in the hallway.

“You were listening,” he said.

“I always listen.”

“Did you hear anything useful?”

Taehyung tilted his head. “I heard Ryu lie.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know?”

“I watched his pupils. His breath hitched every time he mentioned Min.”

“Useful,” Jungkook murmured. “Very useful.”

He reached out, brushed Taehyung’s hair back. The touch was soft, almost tender.

Taehyung didn’t flinch. “Don’t mistake usefulness for loyalty.”

“I don’t. I mistake it for leverage.”

That night, Taehyung found himself in the rooftop greenhouse. It was one of the few places in the estate that felt untouched by blood and war.

He stood among jasmine vines and moonflowers, staring at the city’s bruised skyline.

“You’re not hiding, are you?” Jungkook’s voice behind him.

Taehyung didn’t turn. “Not from you.”

Jungkook stepped beside him. “What are you hiding, then?”

Taehyung looked at him. “Hope. It’s foolish, but I keep hoping you’ll remember who we were.”

“I remember.” Jungkook’s voice was quiet. “You were light. And I… I was the shadow that followed you.”

Silence.

Taehyung said, “You still are. But I’ve learned how to blind the dark.”

They stood in the moonlight, two broken things pretending not to break.

Then Jungkook asked, “Why did you poison me?”

Taehyung smiled faintly. “Because you need someone who doesn’t fear you. Who can touch your monsters and still stay.”

Jungkook leaned in, voice a whisper. “And you think that’s you?”

“I know it is.”

Their eyes locked.

And for a second, the war between them paused.

Not because it ended.

But because neither of them wanted to win.

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