Isabella stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the dim light spilling in from the hallway. She watched Jungkook as he lay asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. For a man who had once stood as a feared and respected mafia leader, he looked so peaceful, so vulnerable in his sleep. His dark hair fell across his forehead, damp from the sweat of his earlier struggles. The velvet cuffs still adorned his wrists, though they no longer held the tight restraint they once did. He had settled, his body no longer tense but relaxed under her careful watch.

With quiet steps, Isabella made her way over to him, her eyes never leaving his sleeping form. She hesitated for a moment at the edge of the bed, her hand hovering above his head before she finally let her fingers sink into his soft hair. Gently, she stroked his hair back from his forehead, her touch light as though she feared waking him. The soft strands of his hair slid through her fingers, and for the first time in a long time, Isabella felt a flicker of something she wasn’t used to feeling—tenderness.

She gazed down at him, her mind momentarily adrift with thoughts she usually kept buried. Jungkook was different. He wasn’t like the other men she had encountered throughout her life. Most of them were easy to control, easy to manipulate. They feared her. They obeyed her without question because they knew what she was capable of. But Jungkook? He had challenged her from the start. He didn’t cower in her presence, didn’t flinch when she looked him in the eye. Instead, he met her gaze head-on, as though he was trying to peel back the layers of her soul. And despite everything, despite her ruthless dominance over him, he still fought back in his own way. It intrigued her. It infuriated her. It made her want him more.

A soft sigh escaped his lips, and Isabella’s eyes softened as she continued to stroke his hair. She might not show it, might never admit it to anyone, but she had a soft spot for him—a weakness she couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it was the way he looked at her, the fire in his eyes that hadn’t yet been extinguished. Or maybe it was the way he managed to remain defiant, even when she held all the power.

She carefully adjusted the blanket that covered him, making sure he was warm enough. Her movements were delicate, precise, as though she was handling something precious. She was always so calculated in her actions, always in control. But with Jungkook, there were moments—fleeting, quiet moments—when she allowed herself to be something more than the cold, calculating mafia queen the world knew her as.

Isabella leaned down, her lips hovering just above his forehead. She paused for a second, her breath mingling with the soft air around him. She wasn’t sure why she was doing this. It wasn’t like her to show affection, to let anyone get close enough to warrant such gestures. But there was something about this man, something about the way he looked at her, even when bound and at her mercy, that made her want to break her own rules—just for him.

She pressed her lips to his forehead, a soft and lingering kiss that spoke of something unspoken. It was a gesture filled with contradiction—affection from a woman who ruled through fear, tenderness from someone who had taken countless lives without remorse. Isabella quickly pulled back, her lips tingling from the brief contact. She straightened, her expression hardening once more as she reminded herself who she was and who he was. This was temporary. He was still her prisoner, her pet.

But still, she found herself sitting at the edge of the bed, her fingers tracing the lines of his face. He stirred slightly, but he didn’t wake, his body still relaxed in the safety of sleep. Isabella leaned back in the chair she had pulled up, crossing one leg over the other as she watched him. The room was quiet, the only sound being the soft rustling of the blanket as Jungkook shifted in his sleep.

For a while, Isabella allowed herself to watch him, to let her thoughts drift as she sat in the stillness of the room. There was a calmness here that she didn’t often experience, a serenity that felt foreign to her. Usually, her nights were filled with plans, strategies, and missions. But tonight, for some reason, she found herself sitting beside Jungkook, simply watching him breathe.

She hadn’t realized how much time had passed until she glanced at the clock on the wall. It was late, the early hours of the morning creeping in. She knew she should leave, should retreat to her own chambers and get some rest before the next day’s business. But something kept her there, her gaze locked on Jungkook’s sleeping form. She didn’t want to leave him, not yet.

Isabella leaned forward once more, her fingers brushing against the red marks on his wrists where the velvet cuffs had been. They were faint, but they were still there—a reminder of the control she had over him. She frowned slightly, hating that even in her possession, he had to endure discomfort. With careful hands, she undid the cuffs, letting them fall to the floor before reaching into her bag and pulling out a small jar of salve.

She applied the salve to his wrists, her touch gentle and soothing. Jungkook didn’t stir, too deep in sleep to notice her actions. Isabella worked quickly, making sure the salve was spread evenly across his skin before she pulled out a set of softer cuffs—ones that wouldn’t leave marks, ones that would be kinder to his skin. She fastened them around his wrists, her fingers lingering on the soft fabric.

“There,” she whispered to herself, satisfied with her work.

She stood up, glancing down at Jungkook one last time before she leaned down again, her lips brushing against his forehead in a silent farewell. This time, her kiss was quicker, more restrained. She couldn’t afford to let herself get too attached. She was Isabella, the queen of the underworld, the woman who ruled with an iron fist. She couldn’t afford weakness.

But as she turned to leave, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Maybe, just maybe, she could allow herself this one indulgence—a quiet moment of tenderness, a fleeting feeling of something more than power.

With one last glance at Jungkook, Isabella left the room, the door clicking softly behind her as she disappeared into the shadows of the night.