Chapter 70: Beneath the Surface, They Begin to Hunt

 

The morning after the exhibition, Jungkook woke before either of his husbands. The silk sheets wrapped around his waist were tangled, his body warm and sore in the gentlest ways, pressed between two heat sources—V on his left, Taehyung on his right. Their arms curled instinctively around him, their chests rising in quiet, even rhythms.

 

But Jungkook couldn’t sleep.

 

Something in him pulsed awake.

 

Not anxiety exactly, but… anticipation. A restlessness that buzzed quietly beneath his skin.

 

He slipped free with care, pausing only to press a soft kiss to each man’s temple before padding barefoot across the vast suite, grabbing one of V’s silk shirts—oversized on him—and making his way downstairs toward the private kitchen.

 

The mansion was silent again. But not the same as before. Not cold. Not distant. It was the silence of a room after music, the hush of satisfaction rather than emptiness. And as he poured himself a small glass of peach water, he glanced out the tall windows—

 

Only to find two black cars parked near the gates.

 

Unfamiliar. Uninvited.

 

Jungkook tilted his head. The guards hadn’t notified anyone yet?

 

As he turned to reach for the phone, it rang before his fingers even touched it.

 

“Noona.”

 

Niki’s voice came through the receiver, strained.

 

“Jungkook—there’s something you need to see.”

 

Upstairs, V’s phone buzzed against the nightstand.

 

He blinked himself awake, the low alert tone vibrating through his senses. He reached for it wordlessly, already feeling the first tug of dread crawling beneath his skin.

 

The message read:

 

“They're talking. Everywhere. Media, private blogs, industry servers. Koo’s identity is being hunted.”

 

V sat up fully.

 

The sheets beside him were empty—Jungkook already gone.

 

Across the bed, Taehyung stirred at the motion, dark lashes fluttering open. “Hyung…?”

 

“Trouble,” V said quietly, already sliding from the bed.

 

Taehyung followed without question.

 

Down in the study, Jungkook sat curled on the velvet chair in his oversized borrowed shirt, knees pulled to his chest, as Niki’s voice filled the room from the open laptop in front of him.

 

She was pale. Clearly shaken.

 

“I don’t know how they got the auction logs,” she said, brushing trembling fingers through her hair. “Or how they knew your drop schedule before it was encrypted. But someone is pulling threads—and fast.”

 

“But they don’t know it’s me, right?” Jungkook whispered.

 

“Not yet. But they’re guessing. And some guesses are… close.”

 

He curled tighter into himself.

 

“What should I do, noona?”

 

Niki’s lips trembled into a tight smile. “Stay with them. Let the twins handle it. If anything happens, I’ll call—”

 

A sharp crack echoed on her end. The feed glitched.

 

Then cut.

 

Jungkook shot up. “Noona?!”

 

Silence.

 

He was halfway to grabbing the phone when two sets of arms wrapped around him from behind, pulling him back from the panic cliff.

 

Taehyung held his waist. V gripped his hand.

 

“We’ll find her,” V said firmly, his voice a low, commanding promise.

 

“And no one’s getting near you,” Taehyung added, pressing his forehead to the side of Jungkook’s head. “Not while we’re breathing.”

 

Across the city, in a penthouse high above the skyline, a man leaned back in his leather chair, sipping wine from a crystal glass as multiple screens reflected off his sunglasses.

 

Dozens of images of Koo’s artwork. Speculative articles. Shadowed photos from behind—trying to decipher the silhouette of the boy behind the masterpieces.

 

“Almost there,” he murmured to himself, licking his lips slowly. “Let’s peel the layers off the prodigy, shall we?”

 

Back at the mansion, the twins activated protocols Jungkook didn’t even know existed.

 

The house tripled in surveillance. Cars were moved. Windows reinforced. External communication was routed through two new servers.

 

And at the center of it all, Jungkook watched silently—anxious, guilty, and small.

 

But he didn’t retreat.

 

Not this time.

 

That night, when Taehyung entered the library to find him curled in the corner chair with a blanket wrapped around his legs, Jungkook didn’t look away.

 

“I don’t wanna be protected like I’m a secret anymore,” he said softly, voice trembling. “But I don’t wanna lose the peace we have either.”

 

Taehyung crossed the room and crouched down in front of him, brushing a thumb across his cheek. “Then we’ll protect both. You, and your quiet.”

 

“Daddy said the same thing,” Jungkook murmured, small smile curling his lips.

 

Taehyung smirked faintly. “He’s a good man. Obnoxious, but good.”

 

“I love you both,” Jungkook said suddenly. “Like, really love. I know I act all bratty sometimes and clingy, but… it’s real. It’s not little space, or trauma. It’s just… me.”

 

Taehyung leaned forward then, catching Jungkook’s lips in a kiss—soft, deep, reverent.

 

“We know,” he whispered against him. “And we love you.”

 

Upstairs, V stood at the window, jaw clenched.

 

The hunt was beginning.

 

And whoever dared to threaten his Jungkook—whoever whispered about unmasking Koo—was about to learn what kind of hell a cold man could unleash when the warmth of his home was touched.

 

There would be no forgiveness.

 

No mercy.

 

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