"You thought you could deceive us. But in this game, baby, the rules were written by those who thrive in shadows."
⚠️
"Look at you, little thing. I'm two sizes bigger than you. If I wrapped my hand around your throat, I could choke you," he jeered...
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kerosene-a flammable hydrocarbon oil usually obtained by distillation of petroleum and used as a fuel, solvent, and thinner.
•°. *࿐
Dami gradually opened her eyes, each movement accompanied by a surge of pain that shot through her entire body.
She couldn't suppress a hoarse groan, the intensity of the pain coursing through her neck and back overwhelming her senses.
Struggling to keep her eyes open, she found herself sinking into the depths of despair, the potent effects of the drugs dragging her to the brink of her existence.
Upon waking in the same room from yesterday, where Dokyeom had treated her wounds, she instinctively shut her eyes tight, recalling the memory of having passed out there, half-naked.
However, curiosity compelled her to swiftly open them again, her gaze sweeping down her body in search of clothing.
To her dismay, she found herself devoid of a shirt, or even her blood-stained sports bra.
Lying on her side, she winced inwardly, cringing at herself for having lost consciousness half-naked in the presence of men known to be among the most notorious figures in the mafia world. And horny.
"Dami, what the fuck were you thinking?" she cursed under her breath, her hands instinctively flying to cover her chest in a attempt to cover herself.
Scanning the room frantically, she searched for any sign of a blanket or even a scrap of cloth to provide some semblance of cover.
But luck evaded her grasp. The door crept open slowly, its creaking echoing throughout the room. She sighed heavily, her hands tightening their grip over her chest.
As the door swung open, revealing the imposing figure of the leader, Seungcheol, his gaze swept from her head to toe in a single measured glance.
A faint smirk teased the corners of his lips, betraying a hint of amusement at the sight before him.
"Why are you naked?" he inquired, closing the distance between them with measured steps, their eyes locked.
She sighed, finding herself unable to muster a reply.
His gaze slowly traveled from her eyes downward, taking in the sight of her chest and collarbone area covered in dried blood—her own blood.
Her hands, covering her breasts, were also stained with blood, and he couldn't look away from her, feeling drawn to her vulnerable state.
"Could you please find a shirt for me?" Her voice barely rose above a whisper, drained of its usual vigor, as if each word required an immense effort to utter.
She hoped that by asking her question, his eyes would lift to meet hers instead of lingering on her body. The intensity of his gaze on her chest made her feel uncomfortable and exposed.
