I press a fresh bandage against the wound, wrapping it around his torso to hold it in place. My hands brush against his skin, warm and slick with blood, and I feel him tense under my touch. Not from pain this time.
When I finish, I sit back on my heels and look up at him.
“You know,” I say, keeping my voice casual even though my heart is still pounding from the adrenaline of the last twenty minutes, “I’m actually pretty good at finding people.”
Suha’s eyes flick to me, sharp despite the pain he must be in. “What?”
“Finding people. Tracking them down.” I sit back on my heels, meeting his gaze. “I could help you locate your uncle. Kyungho, right? If he’s the one who ordered the hit, then—”
“No.”
The word comes out flat and final, cutting me off before I can finish the thought. Suha shifts on the bed, wincing as the movement pulls at his wound, and reaches for a clean shirt that Seokjin hands him.
“I don’t need a pet playing detective,” he continues, his voice taking on that dismissive edge I’ve come to recognize. “Your job is to warm my cock and look pretty while you do it. Nothing more.”
The words are like a slap. I feel my jaw clench, anger sparking hot in my chest. I’ve been naked and collared for over a week now, treated like furniture, fucked whenever he feels like it, kept in a cage like an animal. And now he’s dismissing me like I’m actually useless, like I don’t have any value beyond being a convenient hole.
“I’m not useless,” I snap, standing up despite the guards tensing at the movement. “I tracked you down, didn’t I? Foundyour schedule, your locations, your whole operation. I got into your hotel room without anyone noticing until it was too late.”
Suha’s expression darkens. “Yes, and look how well that turned out for you. You’re collared and caged. Congratulations on your detective skills.”
“Better than getting shot,” I fire back, my temper flaring. “At least I didn’t walk into an ambush like an idiot.”
The temperature in the room drops about twenty degrees. Haesung and Seokjin both reach for their weapons, and I realize maybe insulting a wounded mob boss isn’t my smartest move. But I’m too angry to care, too frustrated from being dismissed and degraded for days on end.
Suha stands slowly, his hand pressed against his bandaged side. Even injured and bleeding, he’s imposing, his pheromones spiking with fury. He takes a step toward me and I hold my ground, refusing to back down.
“You think you’re clever?” he asks, his voice dangerously quiet. “You think because you stalked me for a few weeks that you understand how this world works? You’re a street rat who got in over his head. You don’t know anything about running a syndicate or dealing with threats like Kyungho.”
“I know more than you think,” I shoot back. “I’m not stupid, and I’m not useless.”
Suha’s eyes narrow. For a second I think he’s going to hit me, or worse. But then he just shakes his head, dismissive.
“Knowing things doesn’t make you valuable. It makes you a liability.” He turns away from me, addressing his guards. “Put him in the cage. I have a business dinner to attend and I don’t have time for this.”
“You’re going to a dinner?” I ask incredulously. “You were just shot!”
“Which is exactly why I need to show my face,” Suha says, already moving toward the bathroom. “If I hide, it looks like weakness. I need to prove I’m still in control.”
“You’re bleeding through your bandages!”
“The doctor will be here in thirty minutes. He’ll patch me up properly before I leave.” Suha pauses at the bathroom door, looking back at me with cold eyes. “And you’ll be in your cage where you belong, waiting for me to come back and use you however I want. Because that’s all you’re good for.”
The words sting more than they should. I know he’s lashing out because he’s in pain and angry about being shot, but it doesn’t make them hurt less. I’ve spent over a week being treated like property, and some stupid part of me thought maybe I’d earned at least a shred of respect. That maybe he saw me as more than just a warm body to fuck.
Apparently not.
Haesung and Seokjin move toward me, and I don’t resist as they grab my arms. What’s the point? I’m naked, collared, and outnumbered.
They drag me toward the cage, and I go willingly, seething silently. The door clangs shut behind me, the lock clicking into place with a finality that makes my teeth grind. I sink down onto the cushioned floor of the cage, pulling my knees up to my chest, and glare at the bathroom door where Suha disappeared.
I wait in the cage, listening to the sounds of Suha preparing to leave. The doctor arrives exactly when promised, a nervous beta in an expensive suit who keeps his eyes down and his mouth shut as he works. I can hear the murmur of voices from the bedroom, Suha’s short responses to whatever medical advice he’s being given.
Then, footsteps. Heavy boots on marble floors. The guards assembling in the hallway outside.
Suha appears in the bedroom doorway, dressed in a fresh suit. The bandages are hidden beneath his shirt, and if I didn’t know he’d been shot less than an hour ago, I’d never guess from looking at him. He’s put himself back together perfectly, every hair in place, his expression cold and controlled.
He doesn’t even glance at the cage as he adjusts his cufflinks.
