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ALYRA'S POV
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The interior of the Mercedes always smelled of leather, expensive cologne, and the quiet, suffocating weight of captivity. For seven long months, that distinct combination had been the oxygen of my living nightmare. It was a confined kingdom of velvet and steel, a space where my whims were dictated and my movements monitored by the man sitting beside me. For two hundred and ten days, I had looked at Jeon Jungkook and seen only a predator, a beautiful, lethal storm that had uprooted my existence, shattered my autonomy, and bound me to his side at the terrifying point of a gun.