I was six when I figured out what my family was. I was brighter than most kids my age, and at seven years old, I was learning to shoot my first gun. By eleven, I was being homeschooled in college algebra, drug cartels, and at my father's insistence, hand-to-hand combat. By seventeen, I knew the business like the back of my hand. Jimin was right. I would put a bullet in his head in a blink of an eye if he gave me a reason, and I liked Jimin.
"Ms. Min, we are now in Seoul," the pilot informed me as I rose from my seat.
Suho, my body guard and third in command opened the plane door, stepping out first, followed by two other men carrying my things. The moron, Jungwoo, stood at the front of the plane trying his best not to make eye contact with any of us as we reached him.
"Ha-ave a g-good day, Ms. M-Mi-in."
Handing him my jacket, he stared at me wide eyed. "Take it to your sister and let her know how close you came to dying today, and while you are at it, go find your balls before I see you again."
With that I walked out and found a shiny black limo waiting for me. Stopping next to Suho, I tried not to roll my eyes.
Where am I going, prom?
"Suho, see if you can get me a car, in white . . . and soon." I sighed. I did not want to be driven. I wanted to drive. I needed to drive. It was one of my four S's. Swimming, shooting, sex, and speed were the only four things that could help clear my mind.
"Yes, ma'am," he said, pulling out his phone, already speaking to someone. If Jimin was my right hand, then Suho was my left. He was never taken by surprise. He didn't need to be acknowledged or even seen, and only spoke when necessary. Unlike Jimin and me, he was the only half-Korean. His blond hair made him stick out like Donatella Versace at a Walmart. His fix? He just shaved most of it all off.
Jimin stood beside me and handed me my personal phone. There was only one person who had the number.
"Annyeong, Appa, calling to make sure I got on the plane?" I asked, while Suho and Jimin arranged for a new car.
He laughed before coughing. "No my beautiful doll, I would never doubt you. After all, you were the one who renewed the contract."
The contract stated I would willingly marry Kim Taehyung and would merge our families. Hyunbin and Minho had signed the contract fifteen years ago when they first created it. Then it needed to be signed by Taehyung and me on our eighteenth birthdays, and one last time during the first year of the marriage.
"I did. Has he?" I asked, just as a white Aston Martin pulled up in front of me. Smirking, I turned toward Suho and Jimin and nodded, that was much better.
"No, not yet. But he, his father, and brothers will be arriving any moment to do so." He practically coughed up a lung, but I was used to it.
Taking the keys from Suho, I slid in and pointed for him to get in, too. He'd done well. He could ride alongside me.
"So I am guessing that means he hasn't seen the change yet." This was going to be interesting.
"You mean, where you demand to be kept informed and in agreement with his future decisions involving the business?" Hyunbin laughed. "It will be quite interesting to see his reaction. This isn't the normal position wives play."
I snorted, pressing my foot on the gas, a row of black sedans followed behind me as I pulled out of the airport.
"It's non-negotiable. If he wants a stake in my empire, then I need to make sure he doesn't destroy it. His brother hacked our records this morning. They are aware of how much we are worth. He's going sign, and he is going accept that I'm not normal. I don't expect normal," I said, flying down the back roads that would lead to our Seoul home, despite the fact that we never spent time in Seoul. Now I was stuck here.
"You allowed them to hack into our records." I smiled.
Suho looked at me while shaking his head, but chuckled as well. He knew what I was talking about even if he couldn't hear the whole conversation.
Namjoon was good—great, even. He was one of three people who could crack my level one firewalls—the second was dead—and the third was me. If Kim didn't accept, which would make him an idiot, then I would have Namjoon buried right next to number two. I hated hackers who were against me.
"My dear, if you were not my daughter, I would fear you." I could hear the smile in his voice over the phone.
"It's because I am your daughter that you should fear me." In his day, Hyunbin could make grown men cry and beg for a bullet. If Hyunbin got his hands on them, pain was guaranteed.
"You are one of the best who has ever been. But don't count Kim Taehyung out. It may surprise you, but he is just as, if not more, ruthless than you are." He was right. Kim Taehyung was a name many feared. He was known as the "Boogeyman of Seoul," and I was the unknown "Wicked Witch of Busan."
"Ma'am." Suho cleared his throat, holding my work phone.
"I will see you soon. Bye," I said to my father before hanging up.
Suho placed the phone on Bluetooth.
"Make my motherfucking day," I said, breaking the speed limit as I turned the corner.
"With pleasure, ma'am," Jimin replied. "Kang Daeson , Song Jaemin's right-hand man, fucked up big and drove drunk. Guess who picked him up?"
"Jimin. . ." I said, my tone laced with anger. He knew better than to ever play guess-who with me.
"As luck would have it, Nams was the one who pulled him over and brought him to us. He's waiting in the room under the house, so drugged up he can't see straight . . . but he's still not talking."
"Goodbye, Jimin," I said as Suho ended the call.
"Motherfucking day made, ma'am?"
I just nodded, driving closer and closer to my future husband, my empire, and some new intel. "Yes, Suho, motherfucking day made."
TAEHYUNG'S POV
"Someone is just a tad bit presumptuous." Namjoon snickered into phone. "She's already packed, Taehyung."
And sure enough, when my car pulled up to the Italian-styled mansion, I watched as some of Min's men placed suitcases, what I figured were Y/N's things, into a white suburban near the far side of the house. When they noticed us, they finished as fast they could and disappeared behind the tree sculptures that lined the back. They were all the size of Jin and I couldn't help wonder how they would fit in with our people. This would be the biggest merger the mafia world had ever seen. The Kims and the Mins were like the English and the French—we had been fighting for generations.
"She is just like the rest of them," I said into the Bluetooth. "In love with Daddy's credit card. But from the looks of it, she is no worse than Eunha."
"Or your mother," Namjoon said as the cars came to a stop. He couldn't deny his wife was a savage when it came to spending money. She held onto her plastic card with the Jaws of Life, and Namjoon, being the whipped bastard he was, couldn't bring himself to stop her. It would have been great if she actually spent the money on herself or the family, but no, she had to sprinkle it throughout the whole city, drawing unneeded attention at times. Jin's wife, Jisoo, was the complete opposite. She would walk right past a starving child and buy herself another pair of shoes. I, just like the rest of them, would have to allow Y/N to shop herself crazy as long as I got what I needed.