The city called you The Ghost. No one knew your real name. No fingerprints, no identity, no trace left behind. You were a myth to most, a nightmare to the underground elite. You didn't steal for greed—you stole for power, for adrenaline, for revenge.

And he—Jeon Jungkook—was the one man who’d almost caught you. Twice.

He was everything the mafia whispered about in fear. Cold. Calculating. And way too beautiful to be that dangerous. But beneath the flawless suits and empty smirks was a hunter—one who had decided long ago that you were his prey.

---

Tonight, the museum was your stage.

You moved like shadow through the corridors, every security camera looped, every guard sedated. The emerald necklace, worth millions and rumored to be cursed, lay before you in a glass case. A challenge.

“You’re getting predictable,” came a voice from the shadows.

You froze.

That voice.

Low. Rich. Unmistakable.

“You always leave a signature,” Jungkook murmured, stepping out from the darkness, clad in all black, his gun resting lazily at his side. “Even ghosts like to be remembered, huh?”

You turned slowly, heart pounding, lips curving. “You always show up late.”

“I like watching you work.”

He stepped closer. You noticed the faint scruff along his jaw, the way his dark eyes gleamed—not with violence, but hunger.

“This time,” he whispered, “you’re not getting away.”

You smirked. “That’s what you said in Paris.”

“I let you go in Paris.”

That made you pause.

He saw it—the shift in your expression.

Jungkook moved faster than your instincts, slamming you against the display case. His body caged yours, eyes burning into yours.

“Why?” you whispered, breath hitching.

“Because I wanted to see if you'd come back to me.”

Your knife slipped from your sleeve, but he caught your wrist with a growl.

“Still playing with blades,” he muttered. “Still running from the fact that I know you better than anyone.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“Really?” His voice dropped, lethal and soft. “You always tilt your head slightly before you lie. You never steal on rainy nights. And when you’re scared, really scared, your breathing slows instead of quickening.”

Silence crackled between you.

"You’ve been watching me."

"Obsessively," he admitted without shame. “You think you’re haunting this city? No, sweetheart. It’s me haunting you.”

His lips ghosted over your ear. “But tonight… the game ends.”

Your free hand went for the smoke pellet in your belt, but Jungkook moved faster. He grabbed both wrists and spun you around, binding them with his own tie, yanking it tight with a predator’s precision.

You gasped.

“Still elegant,” you muttered, taunting through your panic.

He chuckled darkly, lips brushing your neck. “I could ruin you right here.”

“Then why don’t you?”

He spun you to face him, eyes flickering with something feral. “Because I want you alive. With me. Mine.”

---

The warehouse was cold, quiet. You sat in the center of the room, tied to a chair, wrists sore. He hadn't hurt you—no, Jungkook was never that obvious. He hurt with his words, with the way he looked at you like you were both priceless and already claimed.

He stood by the window, glass of whiskey in hand, watching the rain hit the concrete.

“I always wondered,” he said finally, “how it would feel. Catching you.”

“And?”

He turned slowly, eyes unreadable.

“It’s... exhilarating.” His tongue ran across his lower lip. “But also terrifying.”

You raised a brow.

“Because now that I have you,” he said, voice deadly calm, “I don’t think I can let you go.”

You scoffed, lifting your chin. “You think I’m some prize? Some trophy to hang next to your weapons?”

“No,” he said, walking toward you. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like I could be caught. Like I could bleed.”

He crouched beside you, fingers brushing your cheek.

“I dream about you,” Jungkook confessed. “Nightmares, too. You haunt me.”

You swallowed.

“Then let me go. End it.”

He smiled, bitter. “You still don’t get it.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small ring. Your ring. The one you lost during a heist two years ago. Your eyes widened.

“I’ve had this since Madrid,” he said softly. “Kept it close. Like a reminder.”

Of what?

“That no matter how far you ran... one day, you'd be mine.”

Your heart pounded.

“What are you going to do with me?”

He tilted his head.

“I should kill you,” he whispered. “You’ve embarrassed my family. You stole from me. Shot at me.”

You grinned. “And yet, here I am.”

A long pause.

Then his hand moved gently to your throat—not choking, just holding.

“I don’t want your death,” he murmured. “I want your loyalty. I want your fire. Your fight.”

“You want control.”

“I want you.”

You looked into his eyes and saw it—all of it. The obsession. The ache. The truth.

“You’re insane.”

“I’ve accepted that.”

“And if I refuse?”

He leaned in, nose brushing yours. “Then I’ll just keep you here. Until you stop fighting.”

Your lip quivered, not from fear—but because some twisted part of you… didn’t want to leave.

“You want a pet,” you spat.

“No,” he said, eyes darkening. “I want a partner. A queen beside a king. One who can slit throats and steal hearts—just like she stole mine.”

Your breath caught.

“You love me?”

His smile was slow. Dangerous. “I’ve loved you since the first time you outsmarted me. Since you vanished with a smirk and a wink. Since you made me feel powerless.”

He kissed you.

It was rough, claiming, full of everything he’d kept buried.

You wanted to resist.

But the taste of him—addictive, sharp, consuming—broke something inside you.

He pulled back, breath ragged. “Say it.”

“No.”

“Say it.”

You looked away.

He stood, walked to the table, and returned with a second chair. He untied you—slowly—and sat you down in front of him.

Then he handed you a knife.

You stared at it.

“If you want to leave,” he said, “kill me. Walk out that door. No one will stop you.”

You hesitated.

One move. One thrust.

Freedom.

Your fingers curled around the blade... then dropped it.

Jungkook smiled.

“I knew it.”

“You’re a monster,” you whispered.

He reached forward, tilting your chin up. “And you’re mine now.”

You didn’t deny it.

Because somewhere between your heartbeat and his kiss, you realized the truth:

You had never been running away.

You’d been running toward him all along.

---

End.

Thank you for reading 📚 ❤️

From —

Author Mrinal 🌸 🎀 ✨️