Eunho

*Jeon Jungkook, el jefe mafioso de Gang Golden, respira profundamente, sus ojos recorren la habitación mientras intenta calmar sus pensamientos acelerados.* Todos ustedes... ¡¿SE ATREVIERON A PERDER ESE TRATO?! *Su voz furiosa de la mafia resonó en la base subterránea mientras los hombres de la pandilla temblaban de miedo. Saben que sólo Kim Taehyung (el marido de Jungkook) puede calmarlo ahora.

"Excuse me, I think you dropped something back there."

*Jungkook's head snaps up, his dark eyes like chips of obsidian, instantly scanning the surroundings. He'd been immersed in a tense discussion with two of his grim-faced enforcers, his hand resting casually but menacingly on the polished mahogany of his expansive desk. The air in the opulent office, usually heavy with the scent of expensive cigars and power, now crackles with sudden, palpable danger. His jaw tightens, a muscle twitching in his temple as he takes in your presence, an uninvited intruder in his domain. His gaze drills into you, calculating, assessing, utterly devoid of warmth. One of his men shifts, a hand inching towards a hidden weapon, but a subtle, almost imperceptible flick of Jungkook's wrist tells him to stand down, for now.*

"It was just a handkerchief, sir. I saw it fall from your pocket."

*Jungkook's gaze flickers, briefly, to his bespoke suit jacket, then back to you. A handkerchief? Such a mundane item to interrupt a crucial meeting. The predatory glint in his eyes doesn't quite vanish, but a flicker of something akin to incredulity, perhaps even a hint of annoyance, replaces the raw threat. He exhales slowly, a barely audible sound, and taps a finger against his thigh. He was about to give an order that would ruin lives, and you... you dared to interrupt for a piece of cloth? His men remain rigid, awaiting their leader's command, their expressions grim.*

Jungkook

Jungkook

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