---
The Devil Arrives in Silence
TAE-HYUN —
He didn't send a warning.
No calls. No footsteps. No mercy.
Just darkness.
One by one, the men guarding the abandoned warehouse fell.
Some dropped where they stood—bullets neat and clean through their skulls.
Others never even had the chance to scream.
The detective's breath quickened as the room grew quieter, colder, the lights flickering.
The silence wasn't empty.
It was heavy.
It waited.
"What the hell is this—?" he muttered, gun raised, hands shaking as the shadows seemed to press in.
And then—
The door burst open.
Gunfire tore through the air. Shouts. Screams. The sharp tang of blood flooding the room.
And then…
Silence again.
The detective spun, heart hammering, but he didn't make it far.
A hand grabbed the back of his neck and slammed him into the wall so hard the concrete cracked. His gun clattered uselessly to the floor.
Blood splattered against the peeling paint.
He choked. Gasped. Struggled.
And then Taehyun stepped out of the shadows.
Calm. Terrifying.
His black coat whispered against the ground like a funeral shroud.
But his eyes—
They weren't just angry.
They weren't just cold.
They were betrayed.
"You used her to hurt me?" His voice was low, silk over a blade, deadly and steady. "She trusted you."
The detective coughed, spitting red. "She betrayed you first."
CRACK.
Taehyun slammed his head into the wall again. The sound echoed.
"And she'll live long enough to regret that." His voice deepened, dangerously calm. "You? You'll wish you never touched her name."
The man sagged, half-conscious already, but Taehyun wasn't finished. His grip was merciless, iron digging into bone.
"Where is she?" he hissed. "What did you do to her?"
A whimper. Then a smirk through bloodied teeth. "She came to me. Don't act like she's some saint. She told me everything. You think she's innocent?"
That was the wrong answer.
His fist drove into the detective's gut, folding him in half. Another blow to the ribs. Another to the jaw. The man gagged, choking on his own blood.
And then—
A sound.
Small. Fragile.
"Taehyun…"
He froze.
Slowly—he turned.
And there I was.
Still tied to the chair. Still shaking, eyes wide with disbelief as he crossed the blood-stained floor toward me.
For one suspended second—
I didn't see the monster.
I didn't see the mafia king everyone feared.
I saw a man.
Furious. Shaken. Afraid.
He dropped to his knees in front of me.
"Aish…" His voice cracked, soft, broken around the edges. His trembling hands cupped my face like I might disappear. "Did they hurt you?"
I shook my head, tears threatening to spill.
"I—I'm sorry…" My voice shattered. "I didn't mean—"
He silenced me, jaw tight, eyes locked to mine. He reached behind me, cutting the ropes away with a swift flick of his blade.
The moment my arms were free, I collapsed forward.
And he caught me.
Held me.
Crushed me against his chest like nothing else in the world mattered—not the blood, not the betrayal, not the chaos.
"You're safe now," he murmured, again and again, voice low against my hair. "You're mine, and you're safe."
I sobbed into his chest, shaking uncontrollably. Not because I was saved—
But because even after everything…
He still came.
He came for me.
Even when I didn't deserve it.
---
The detective groaned, spitting blood onto the floor. Half-conscious, half-delirious.
"You think this is over?" His voice was rough, mocking, every word dripping venom. "You used her. You made her believe she was safe. You—"
Taehyun's head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing dangerously.
"You dare," he said softly.
"She came to me," the man coughed, laughing raggedly. "You think she's loyal? You're a fool. She'll betray you again. She already has."
The fury that rippled through Taehyun was volcanic.
Unstoppable.
His boot slammed into the detective's ribs with a sickening crack. The man screamed, curling, coughing blood.
Taehyun crouched low, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look up, to meet eyes colder than death itself.
"You think betrayal is a woman lying to me?" His tone was silk over steel, controlled and lethal. "Betrayal is trusting scum like you to breathe the same air as her."
He jerked his chin at his men.
"String him."
They hauled the detective up, chaining his arms above him, iron biting deep into his already broken wrist. His scream rattled the rafters.
Taehyun stood tall, his shadow stretching across the room, swallowing the man whole.
"You want to play detective?" His voice was soft now, almost mocking. "Then investigate pain. Trace every fracture. Map every scream. Document what it means to touch what's mine."
He turned to me, still kneeling where he'd freed me, trembling but conscious.
"This part," he said, eyes still locked on the bleeding man, "you don't need to see."
But I couldn't look away.
My lips trembled. Tears slipped free. But I didn't look away.
His gaze cut to me, sharp, searching. "You still want to protect him?"
I shook my head once, silent, certain.
That was all he needed.
He turned back. His men had already gagged the detective, who was begging through muffled sobs, thrashing weakly against the chains.
"No… no, wait—listen—"
Taehyun tilted his head, watching him like a predator.
"You should've prayed to be ignored," he murmured. His smile was slow, cruel. "But you touched my wife."
And with that, the warehouse door slammed shut.
The screams that followed weren't human.
By dawn—
the detective had no fingers left to point blame with.
And when Taehyun emerged into the pale morning light—
his hands were stained with red, but his arms wrapped around me were steady, firm, unshaking.
----
The warehouse was still humming with echoes of screams when he came back to me.
My wrists were raw, my body trembling, the smell of blood heavy in the air.
He crouched down again, silent this time.
And then—softness.
The weight of his coat slipped over my shoulders, the black fabric swallowing me whole. Warm. Heavy. His scent clung to it—gunpowder, smoke, and something achingly familiar.
"Cold," he murmured, almost to himself, brushing his thumb against my cheek. "Too cold."
I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. My throat was too tight.
Without another word, he slid an arm beneath my knees, the other supporting my back. The world tilted as he lifted me, cradling me against his chest as if I weighed nothing.
I gasped softly, clutching the lapel of his coat. "Tae…"
"Don't." His voice was low, strained. "Not now."
The night outside was eerily quiet, broken only by the crunch of his boots against gravel. His men scattered around the lot, shadows moving in formation, heads bowed in respect as their boss carried his wife past them.
He didn't look at them.
He didn't look at anyone.
His gaze was fixed straight ahead, jaw tight, arms locked around me like I might slip away again.
When we reached the car, he yanked the door open with one hand and carefully set me inside. His coat still wrapped around me, his warmth lingering even though he pulled back.
But before closing the door, he leaned in.
His forehead pressed against mine, breath harsh, uneven. "You scared me," he admitted in a broken whisper. "More than bullets. More than death itself."
My lips trembled, eyes burning. "I thought… I thought you wouldn't come."
His fingers caught my chin, forcing me to meet the fire in his eyes. "Even if you betrayed me a thousand times," he said, voice rough with conviction, "I'd still come. Because you're mine, Angel. Mine to hold. Mine to carry out of hell."
And then the door shut, sealing me in the cocoon of his coat, his scent, his storm.
Outside, he gave the order.
"Drive."
The mansion wasn't just his destination anymore—
It was where he would keep me.
Guard me.
And never, ever let me slip into someone else's hands again.