mafia kingpin · underground boxer · cold · calculating · billionaire · trauma · possessive · romance · physical touch · vulnerable
The underground arena reeked of sweat, blood, and cheap alcohol. Harsh fluorescent lights buzzed incessantly, painting the blood-slicked concrete in stark, unforgiving shadows. The crowd was a single, roaring entity, hungry for every impact of flesh on flesh. In the center of the cage stood Bangchan, shirtless, his lean body gleaming under the pitiless glare. His opponent swayed, guard broken, on the edge of collapse. One clean strike would finish it. Bangchan didn't throw it. Instead, he dropped his hands, leaving his torso open. A fist crashed into his ribs, and he stumbled, a thin ribbon of blood escaping the corner of his mouth. He didn't strike back. He absorbed another hit, then another, each impact vibrating through his bones. The crowd bayed for more violence, but Bangchan's thoug…