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The fight had started like all the others. Small, petty, stupid. The kind that was about nothing, but at the same time everything, the things left unsaid, buried until someone finally cracked.
“I don’t know. It was pretty obvious. Are you really going to pretend you didn’t know that he was coming on to you?” Yin’s voice was too casual, too calm, the tone that only came when he was trying too hard to sound indifferent. He leaned against the counter, scrolling through nothing on his phone, feigning nonchalance. “It’s all over social media already.”
War froze, halfway into zipping up his sweatshirt. “What are you talking about?”
“The producer,” Yin said, eyes still on the screen. “The one who keeps calling you at midnight. The one who,” His jaw flexed. “You had dinner with last night.” He held up a picture from a tiktok reel of the older producer sitting across from the omega at an expensive restaurant, smiling as they clinked wine glasses.
“He’s one of the executives at the label where I’m signed. He wanted to talk about my upcoming album.”
“At The Wall buying you a $300.00 steak? Or at midnight when he randomly calls you?”
“What are you on about?”
“You’re seeing him again next week.”
War turned slowly, his expression unreadable for a moment before his mouth curved, not a smile, not quite. “Oh. So now you’re checking my schedule?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“No? Because it kind of sounds like you’ve been keeping tabs.” War’s tone was light, but his eyes were sharp. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”
Yin didn’t answer, and that silence was the closest thing to a confession he’d ever give. Then after a long long pause, he asked, “Are you sleeping with him?”
War’s jaw practically dropped. The alpha had never asked him something like that before, and it hurt in more ways than one. His temperature rose and his cheeks reddened. He squared up. “What the hell did you just say to me?”
“It’s just a question.” He responded airily. “Are you?”
War let out a soft laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “Why does it matter to you? You won’t call me your Omega, but you’ll question who I eat dinner with? So what if I wanted to hop into bed with some old rich guy? That’s how I got my platinum albums, you know. I’m really a shit musician, I just slide between the sheets with the- ”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Really? How did you mean it, then? You’ll fuck me in private, call me your roommate in public, but when I don’t act the way you want to, you lash out at me!"
“That’s not fair.”
“To me? Or to you?”
Yin pushed away from the counter. “You know why I can’t-”
“Can’t what? Claim me?” He tilted his head, mock-sweet. “Can’t be seen with me romantically? Can’t come out of the fucking closet?”
Yin’s hands clenched at his sides. “I’m not closeted. Don’t do that.”
“Do what? Speak?” War’s tone turned soft and sharp all at once. “Because that’s what this feels like, Yin. Every time I open my mouth, you shut down. You say it’s not that simple. You keep me close enough to feel wanted, but far away enough that you can cut and run at a moment’s notice.”
The words hit harder than either of them expected. The alpha flinched.
“You think I don’t want to claim you?” he asked quietly. “You think I don’t…” His voice broke off, a rare crack in his armor. He looked away, shoulders tightening as if holding himself in place. “...It’s not that simple.”
The omega gave a humorless smile, all teeth and ache. “Right. Because claiming someone like me would ruin your perfect balance, can’t have that, can we? God forbid we mess up your perfect rich boy life and your family reputation.”
“You know that's not what this is about, War!”
“Fuck off, seriously. I'm tired of you using your family as an excuse.”
“I'm the heir to a crime syndicate, War.” Yin sounded out, like he had told him that 100 times. (He had.) “I'm quite literally in the mafia. You're an omega. Do you know how big a target you would be if I made you mine? Do you, really?”
“Stop acting like I can't make my own choices. I've never been afraid of the life you’re in-”
“You should be!”
“You can keep me safe.”
“Until I can't! You know what happened to my brother's omega, don't you? Do I need to remind you? Its been six years. Six. And my brother is still getting pieces of his wife in the mail.”
“That’s not the same!”
“It’s exactly the same!”
“Stop yelling at me!”
“Stop being so difficult!”
“Stop making up excuses!”
“I'm trying to protect you! I'm not a good man. The world I'm in is ugly. It's not the place for you!”
“You're just making up excuses to use me. It’s been four years; I'm tired of being your dirty little secret. Your omega on standby, just waiting for you to come home and fuck until you feel good, then put back on the sideline until you need me again. ”
There was silence for a long, long time. “You think that's what this is?”
“I don't know what to think anymore,” War said as he shoved his feet into his shoes. “You say I don't belong in your world. Maybe I don't. Maybe I belong in a world where my partner isn’t ashamed to be seen with me.”
“War-”
“You’re right. Maybe we should end whatever this is. Or rather, whatever this isn't."
“I didn’t say that.”
“No,” He murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “it’s just what you meant.”
They stood there, two heartbeats caught in the same silence, the air heavy with their pheromones. The underlying distress was evident in the way War’s summer scent soured; it tickled the inside of Yin’s nose, giving him that feeling that comes right before you cry. Or maybe it wasn’t the scent. Maybe it was just the feeling of this same conversation again and again, and how he lost a little bit more of his omega every time.
All he wanted to do was fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness. For him not to leave him. For him to please just hold on a little longer, until he was ready. Until things were safe. Until he could finally admit to the world that he loved him, without the fear of losing him.
But he didn’t move. The silence between them stretched, each one waiting for the other to back down. Finally, the tension snapped. “I need space,” War said, the words small but final. “Before I start saying things I can’t take back.” He turned, pulling his coat on with trembling hands.
The door clicked shut behind him.
The quiet that followed was deafening.
The alpha just stood there, staring at the empty space where War had been, pulse hammering in his throat. His palms ached from how hard he was clenching them. The scent of his omega lingered, and he swiped a tear away.
Pretending was the only thing keeping Yin from falling apart.
Because if he stopped pretending, he’d have to admit the truth:
He loved him. And he was terrified that loving him would end them both.
*
Yin didn’t stop him. That was the worst part.
The door closed with a final, echoing click. War stood in the hallway, heart pounding, the air too thin. He wiped the tears from his cheeks, cursing himself for crying again over the same thing.
Yin’s words echoed in his head, like they always did. I'm trying to protect you! I'm not a good man. The world I'm in is ugly. It's not the place for you!
He had always known who Yin was. What he was. What he was capable of. He had seen the way he pulled him behind himself when faced with anything he would deem a threat. He saw the gun he always carried in the concealed holster in the back of his pants. He heard the late-night hushed phone calls and had watched him slide into his black suit when he said in passing that he had to go to his family’s estate.
But he had never been afraid of him. The way his soft, calming sandalwood scent wrapped around him, he knew he was his mate, he had always known. Yin did too. But knowing wasn’t enough.
I don’t know how much longer I can do this. He wiped his tears again and left the building. He walked until his legs ached, until the city swallowed him whole, bright lights, wet pavement, the hum of night traffic. Anything was better than the cloying scent of their argument, seeing Yin’s stone-cold face again as he shut down another argument. All he wanted was for his Alpha to finally accept him, to say those three words out loud.
He didn’t plan to end up at the bar. It was a nice place, he had been there many times with Yin, with friends, but never alone. Polished wood, soft music, low laughter, it was the kind of space that made you feel safe just sitting in it. The bartender smiled when he ordered something simple, something that wouldn’t burn. And then another, and another.
For a while, it almost worked to chase away the dark, the muddled, twisted feelings in his head. The noise was gentle, the air smelled of citrus and cologne, and the ache in his chest dulled into something manageable.
Until someone sat down beside him.
“Didn’t think I’d see you here.”
War turned slightly. The man was well-dressed, maybe mid-thirties, with an easy smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His Alpha scent was faintly off, stuffy, humid, like wet cardboard. The omega couldn’t place it, but knew he didn’t like it; it set him on edge and made him feel itchy.
“Sorry?” War said, polite but distant.
“You’re War Wanarat, right?”
“Yeah.” He turned back toward his drink, hoping that would be enough.
But the man didn’t leave. He leaned in a little closer. “Didn’t think a famous musician like you would be one to drink alone. No friends tonight? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”
War’s grip tightened around his glass. “Guess not.”
“Just a beautiful omega alone in the world?” He didn’t answer. “Well,” the man continued, signaling the bartender, “let me change that. Your next one’s on me.”
War hesitated, instinct prickling. Something about the man’s voice made his skin crawl. “It’s fine. I’ll probably be calling it a night soon.”
“Please, I insist.”
The alpha slid the new drink toward him, bright under the bar lights. He watched him with buggy eyes, and feeling awkward, War lifted it, took a small sip. It tasted like candy, smooth, sweet, harmless.
Then, a strange twist in his gut.
Heat bloomed beneath his skin, sudden and wrong. His pulse skipped. His breath hitched. It felt like the start of a heat cycle, but it wasn’t time. It couldn’t be.
His vision started to swim.
“What’s happening.” He murmured, pushing his stool back. The room tilted. He gripped the bar for balance, fingers scrabbling at his pocket as he reached for his phone. All he could think about was Yin. Suddenly, the fight didn't matter. All that mattered was getting home to him. His fingers slipped, and he stumbled backwards, and the man got up from his stool casually. His hand brushed War’s arm, too steady, too practiced. “Hey, careful,” he said, smiling wider now. “You’re okay.”
The omega yanked back, losing his balance. The stranger grabbed him again. He tried to pull away, but his body wasn’t listening. His limbs felt heavy, his thoughts sluggish. His glass shattered somewhere behind him.
“Easy, easy,” the man’s voice said. It sounded far away. “He’s had too much,” he told the bartender. “I’ll get him home.”
“No. No!” He gripped the counter with all his might, but his fingers were as limp as fish. “Call Yin. Call Yin!” He said to the bartender.
“Who’s Yin?”
“It’s fine, nevermind.” The man waved the bartender off. “He’s just drunk.”
War wanted to say no, wanted to scream, but his mouth wouldn’t work. The music faded, the lights smeared into color, and the last thing he felt was the man’s arm curling around his waist as everything went dark.
*
When he woke, the air was still. Sun slanted through cracked, yellowed blinds, and dust mites floated in the light.
He was curled up on a narrow bed in a cheap hotel room, the sheets twisted around his legs like vines. His head pounded, his throat felt raw, and his skin clammy. His body ached in ways he couldn’t name. His scent, normally clean and sweet, was wrong. Muddled. Smothered beneath that damp cardboard scent that was thick in the air.
He didn't know where he was. He didn't know how he got there. He tried to walk back his memories, to think of the last things that had happened. He remembered the fight. The bar. Wet cardboard. And then blank. Not like he'd forgotten, like there was no memory even available to be looked back on.
He tried to sit up, and the movement sent a wave of nausea rolling through him.
The sheets clung to his damp skin when he pushed them away. He was completely naked, his pants were crumpled on the floor near the bed, and looked like they’d been stepped on. He stared blankly at the wall, like his brain wasn't allowing him to process what happened. The clock ticked as he sat in silence, the stench and the humid air of the motel room seeming to stick to him.
He had to move. He had to think. It took him ages, but he finally swung his legs over the edge of the bed, but as soon as he put pressure on his feet, pain so deep and intense lanced up his back he fell. When his knees hit the carpet, a flash of red caught his eye. Blood. Drying in thin, flaked lines along his inner thighs.
For a moment, his mind refused to connect the pieces. Then it did, and the world tilted.
A sound escaped him, small, raw. His heart beat in his ears. His pulse raced.
No. No.
He didn’t know who. He didn’t know what had happened after the bar.
He only knew he hadn’t wanted it.
The shock intensified as the full realization smothered him like a wet blanket.
He didn't cry. He couldn't. His ears rang, and he started to shake. Goosebumps appeared across his body, and he wrapped his arms around his waist, squeezing himself tightly, trying to ground himself.
Omega assaults were all too common. There were reports frequently of Omegas being drugged and attacked. But it couldn’t happen to him. It couldn’t. He wasn’t a weak omega. He was strong. He could take care of himself.
He tried to convince himself of that as he sat shaking.
This wasn’t supposed to happen to him.
But it had. So easily. He hadn’t even been able to fight.
His skin crawled.
A quiet sound broke from him, more breath than voice. He drew his knees close, pressing his face against them, wishing he could scrub his skin off, get rid of the residue. The scent. The evidence.
He felt used. Dirty.
Like his body had betrayed him.
Like he'd betrayed himself.
Like he’d betrayed Yin.
A million things played through his head. The memory of their fight replayed, his words, the deliberate cruelty, the way he’d wanted to hurt him, to make him feel the same way he was feeling.
The way he had stormed out, with no particular destination in mind except away.
He hadn’t meant for this.
He hadn’t meant to lose himself trying to prove he was strong. The irony was sickening.
Suddenly, a secondary jolt of fear shot through him as his logical brain clicked back online. What if something had happened? What if he was pregnant? What if his assailant had taken videos or pictures to spread across the internet? Bile crawled up his throat and he scrambled to the trash can to throw up.
His phone buzzed somewhere in the room, the vibration sharp against the silence. It took him a moment to find it, wedged inside the pocket of his jeans.
He had forty-three missed calls, and 413 messages.
Most from Yin. But also his friends and his parents, getting progressively more urgent and worried in tone.
The last one had come only 20 seconds ago. The oldest, four days before.
Four days.
War’s breath stuttered. The fight had been four nights ago. Four days, completely wiped from his memory.
His hands were shaking now. He noticed red marks around his wrists and squeezed his eyes closed. He couldn’t think about it, not now, or he’d break.
He opened the beginning of the Yin's texting string.
Where are you? Please pick up.
It’s late. When are you coming home?
Your keys are here. Should I leave the door unlocked?
I’m sorry, okay?
Just come home. I promise we can talk about it.
I won’t shut down this time.
It’s really late. I’m starting to get worried, I’m serious. Please don’t be like this.
Where are you?
Please answer me.
War, I’m begging you.
Nat says he saw you at the bar. Are you still there?
They said you were seen leaving with someone. Please tell me you’re okay.
War. Please. Just say something. Say anything. Answer my calls, please. I’m sorry.
I’m really sorry. Please don’t do this.
Don’t leave me. Please come home.
The next one was a voice message. He didn’t play it. He couldn’t.
His thumb hovered over the call icon, but he didn’t press it. He couldn’t face Yin. Not like this. He didn’t feel real. He felt like a thousand little shards, frantically trying to scrape themselves back together and pretend to be whole.
His alpha couldn’t see him like this. He was supposed to be strong.
Finally tears came, blurring the screen until he couldn’t read anymore. He set the phone down on the floor, his hands trembling. His scent filled the room, faint, fractured, wrong. It made him sick.
He pulled his arms tighter around himself as he huddled in the corner next to the garbage can, his back against the wall, phone still glowing dimly by his feet.
He closed his eyes, the weight of everything pressing down until it was hard to breathe.
He didn’t know where he was. He didn't know where to go from here.
He didn’t even know how to begin.
*
It was hours later that the door creaked open with a tired groan and War stepped outside, willing his body forward. The fluorescent light was too white, too sharp; it cut through his skull like a blade. He blinked, disoriented, clutching the frame for balance. His legs trembled with each step, the muscles raw, the joints unstable, as though they no longer belonged to him.
He didn’t look back at the room. He couldn’t. The sheets were tangled on the floor, a graveyard of what he couldn’t remember.
The carpet rasped against his bare feet. The elevator was out of order, so he took the stairs, one hand pressed to the wall to steady himself. Each step echoed up his spine. Down, down, down. The man at the desk looked him up and down disinterestedly then went back to playing on his phone, completely unbothered by the look of a battered omega leaving his motel. He wondered how often this happened, if he was even party to it.
When he pushed through the lobby doors, the sunlight hit him like a slap. Too bright. Too clean. The city was already alive, cars blaring, vendors shouting, life happening like nothing had broken. War pulled his hood over his head, shrinking from the world’s gaze. He hadn’t had the strength to check himself in the mirror before leaving. He didn’t need to. He could feel the damage: bruises under his hoodie, tenderness at his throat, the ache between his legs. The invisible fingerprints burned worst of all.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. The sound made him flinch.
Yin
The name blurred on the cracked screen. His thumb hovered, frozen. He didn’t want to hear that voice, not yet. He didn’t want to be pitied. To be reminded of how far he had fallen. He knew he was pitiful. He knew he was weak. He didn’t need to be looked at with concern from the man he had failed.
He declined. The phone buzzed again. He declined again. The third time, his hand was shaking.
He kept walking.
The city swallowed him, neon signs flickering even in daylight, the smell of exhaust and fried food. Every sound scraped against his nerves. People looked at him; he could feel it, or maybe he imagined it, but their stares slid over him like he was invisible.
Good.
He didn’t want to be seen. Not like this.
Each step reminded him of what he’d lost. His balance. His scent. His safety. Himself. His stomach turned again, a sour churn rising in his throat. He turned into an alley, away from the light, and bent over as more bile burned up his esophagus. He vomited until there was nothing left but shaking.
The world blurred through tears. His hoodie stuck to his back with sweat. He slid down the wall until he hit the ground, his palms scraping the rough concrete. For a long time, he just sat there, knees drawn to his chest, breath coming in shallow bursts.
His phone buzzed again.
War pressed his forehead to his knees, biting down on a sob until it hurt. He wanted to answer. He wanted to tell his alpha everything, to hear that it wasn’t his fault, to hear anything that could undo the past four days.
But the thought came, sharp and merciless:
What if he doesn’t believe you?
What if he just tells you the truth: that you were asking for it?
What if he thinks you're filthy, disgusting, and throws you away?
The phone vibrated again. He fumbled it in his grasp, his finger accidentally hitting the answer button.
There was a long beat of silence. Then- “War?” Yin’s voice was sharp, panicked, focused. “War, is that you?”
The omega opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His throat locked up. His chest tightened. He couldn’t breathe.
“Please,” Yin said, voice cracking. “Say something. Just, just let me know you’re okay.”
War let out a sound, a soft whimper, barely human. A broken breath. A sob caught in his throat. His words came out like a whisper. “I'm not okay.”
“Oh my god,” Yin breathed. “You’re alive. Wher--” The question was cut off as War’s phone died.
He looked down at the black screen, then let his arm fall uselessly by his side.
He felt disgusting. Useless. Weak. Like he’d failed everyone. Like he’d failed the version of himself who used to be strong, who used to be proud, who used to believe he could protect himself.
He didn’t know what Yin would say when he saw him. He didn’t know if he would still look at him the same way.
He didn’t know if he deserved it.
He pressed his forehead to his knees again, trying to breathe through the panic rising in his chest, trying to shove it back into the box with the rest of the trauma, but the box was overfilled and rotting, and he wouldn’t be able to depend on it for much longer.
He wanted to run. He wanted to vanish. But he couldn’t move. His legs wouldn’t work. His heart wouldn’t stop racing.
He was just a broken thing barefoot in an alleyway. He covered his head with his arms and cried.
*
He must have fallen asleep because he jerked awake to voices right next to him. They were slightly accented.
“That's him. Is that him?”
“Show me the picture again.”
He squinted in the darkness, holding up his hand to block his eyes it from the flashlight’s blinding light. Visceral fear gripped him. The man had found him again. He scampered backwards deeper into the alleyway, his back slamming into a dumpster with a clang. When his eyes adjusted, he didn’t smell wet cardboard. Instead, he smelled a mix of ice and lava, and saw two tall men approaching him. They weren’t dressed like police, instead they were in dark black suits.
He attempted to scramble to his feet but the pain was sharp in his body again, and nausea ran up his body as he gripped the edge of the dumpster and thew up on one of the men’s shiny shoes. The man grabbed his chin and shined the flashlight at him right in the face.
“That's him.” The icy one said. "That's Anan's boy." He shoved a picture in his breast pocket and grabbed War by the arm. It took a second, then sunk in that the man had said Yin’s given name. But he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, or a very, very bad thing. “Come on, kid.”
War weakly fought his grasp for all of .25 seconds, before the other man, the Lava alpha, scooped him up in his arms. “You got no shoes. You’ll catch your death out here if you stay any longer.” The chill of the air suddenly hit him, he had no idea it was so cold.
“Please. Just let me go.” His teeth chattered. Neither man answered him, and he was helpless in the man's arms.
The second stranger was already on the phone, and a few minutes later a black car pulled up. They loaded inside, and when the warmth of the leather seats and car heater hit his skin, War fell asleep almost immediately.
*
He was nudged awake gently. It wasn’t as dark anymore, the soft navy of dawn was starting to light up the sky. *” We're almost there.” The Icey alpha said. War gulped, having no idea where there was, and hoping that his situation wasn’t about to get worse.
The car turned off the main road and started down a long driveway that had black oak trees planted every five feet, branches spreading up into the sky like they had been there 100 years. At the end of the long private drive was a heavy gate, and beyond an enormous, sprawling estate. The car was still halfway down the drive when the double doors of the mansion opened, and a man in a black suit exited the door and came sprinting towards the car. As he got closer, a gasp left the omega. He scrambled for the door handle.
Yin.
He yanked the door open even before the car stopped, and War, that had been pressed against the window, fell out into his arms.
The alpha’s eyes were wide, rimmed in red as he gripped his omega to his chest, not caring that he was soiled in every conceivable way, his body, his skin, his clothes from huddling in the damp back alley all night.
“War.” He practically sobbed. After a few moments of shock, he slowly wrapped his arms around his alpha in return.
“I’m dirty.”
“I don’t care. You’re here. That's all that matters.”
Yin held him tightly, arms wrapped around him like he could shield him from everything that had already happened. Then everything broke, and War was trembling, sobbing into his chest, and he didn’t even try to make it stop, he just fell onto his knees in the driveway, holding his omega, sobbing with him.
*
He’d found him. But it didn’t feel like enough. War was thinner. Paler. His scent was wrong. His eyes were distant. And Yin could feel the damage in every inch of him. “I’m here,” Yin whispered. “I’ve got you.”
But the words felt hollow. He didn’t need to ask what happened. The story was written all over War’s body.
He hadn’t been there when it counted. He’d let War walk out that night. Let him leave angry, vulnerable. He’d told himself that the omega needed space. Told himself it was just another fight. Told himself he would come back when he cooled down.
But he hadn’t.
His whole relationship he had pushed War away, keeping him at arm’s length so he wouldn’t get hurt, and he ended up in the very situation Yin had been trying to avoid, because of the broken relationship he himself had created.
He buried his face in War’s filthy hair, guilt clawing at his throat. “I failed you. You’re my omega. And I failed you.” War didn’t respond. Just clung tighter, like he was afraid Yin would vanish too. “I knew you were upset. I should’ve done something. I should’ve protected you.”
War pulled back slightly, eyes glassy and red. “It’s not your fault."
“It is! You’re mine! Mine to protect! And I didn’t. I let you go. I let you walk out. And then I couldn’t find you. I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t even…” His voice broke. “I didn’t know if you were alive.”
They continued holding each other on the blacktop until the sound of footsteps was heard coming towards them. Yin instinctively held his omega tighter, and War peeked over his arm to see who was coming. An absolutely massive man was looking down at them both.
The man Yin swore War would never meet. The one who had brought the alpha into this life, the one he had been blocking his omega from for the entirety of their relationship.
*
War didn't even need to guess who the man was. The similarities were evident, from the proud jawline to the dark eyes. It was Yin’s father, the head of the largest mafia syndicate in Asia. “Anan. Get up.” He instructed. Yin stood obediently and turned with War in his arms to face the man.
“War. This is My father. Father. This is my omega. My lover. My mate. War.”
War was stunned, for a few beats. The head of the mafia. Ruthless. Merciless. Terrifying. But the way he looked at him didn't say that, not really.
“Get him inside, for fuck’s sake." The patriarch instructed. "It's freezing out here.”
*
Time passed in relative silence. Yin helped War in the bath; they drained and refilled the tub six times, but the alpha never said a word. The family doctor came to look over War and confirmed he wasn't pregnant. Most of his wounds were superficial, but that wouldn't change the trauma and the guilt they both were carrying.
After a few hours, they were resting in Yin's room when War finally spoke. “You told your father about us. You let me into your world.”
“I wanted to keep you safe, and everything I did was wrong. I thought I was protecting you, but my arrogance only ended up hurting you. I’ll never forgive myself. I’ll spend the rest of my life atoning for it, if you’ll let me. If you’ll still have me.”
War was shocked at Yin’s statement. "You didn't do anything wrong.”
“I did. You're my omega. It's my job to the care of you. And I failed you.” His voice cracked. “I didn't know what happened to you. I was so, so scared. So I went to the person that I knew could help.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“Why would I be in trouble?”
War turned and looked at him. “Because you’re you. And I’m me.” He didn’t elaborate, but Yin knew what he meant.
“My father's not pleased, not really. He wanted a strategic marriage, I’m his firstborn. But when I told him that wasn't going to be an option, that he could either accept us both or lose me forever, he changed his mind.”
“That doesn't seem like something that would happen.”
“My dad is a lot of things. But he's always cared for his family. He taught me how to protect, to shield the one I love from this life, no matter the cost. That's why I tried so hard to hide you away from it all. I didn't take into account what you needed. I’m so sorry.”
War hummed. “Me too.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for!” Yin practically yelled.
“You don’t either.”
*
Days passed slowly. Healing wasn’t fast. Wasn’t linear. Some days were better than others. But after a few weeks, War was sleeping through the night cradled in Yin’s arms, the mating bite still fresh on the back of his neck, and an engagement ring on his left hand. Yin promised he would never let him go, never again.
It was almost midnight, and War was asleep, Yin resting beside him, when a knock came at the bedroom door.
“We found him, Mr. Anan.” It was Daou, one of Yin's most trusted bodyguards. The alpha nodded, hurrying to pull into a sweatshirt and jeans. "Where is he?"
"In the basement."
"Put up much of a fight?"
"None at all, sir, disappointingly."
He called Offroad, one of his father's men that War had become friends with, and stationed him in his room under instructions to watch him every single second and come find him if he so much as twitched funny.
After his instructions were relayed, He hurried down the hallways of the enormous manor, down two flights of stairs into the basement that smelled like stone and blood. He entered one of the rooms to see a man chained to a chair. Yin wasn’t sure what he was expecting. He was just a man, but at the same time he wasn’t; this was War’s monster. And he now had one purpose.
He would kill his mate's monster. He would make sure he was gone from this earth, forever. He would never haunt War's waking hours or his nightmares again.
“You sure this is the right one?” Yin asked. The air smelled like stale cardboard.
“Yes sir." Daou responded, "The bartender confirmed he was the man who left the bar with War that night, and he had this on him." Daou handed Yin the assailant’s phone, on which there were dozens of pictures and videos of War, the man doing unspeakable acts to him. Yin scrolled through them; each was worse than the last. He forced himself to watch them, to see what was done to his omega. It fueled the bloodlust inside him. When he had seen them all, he handed the phone back to Daou. “Have they been shared at all?”
“No, sir. Only on this device.”
“Destroy it. And if any of you say anything to my omega about the images, I’ll kill you.”
“Yes, of course.” He agreed without hesitation.
He didn’t keep secrets from War. But his omega he had no memory of the event, and it would forever stay that way. The images and videos burned in Yin’s mind. He would never forget the price of his indifference. He would die before he let anyone near his omega ever again.
“Who is he?” Yin asked, looking at the pathetic excuse of an alpha in the chair, who had apparently pissed himself.
“No one. Just a stalker. There were photos of War all over his apartment,it looks like he had been following him for a while. They're gone, the photos. No one saw them but me and Offroad."
Yin nodded once. "Does he have a family? Friends?" He asked, peering at the man, who couldn't keep eye contact with Yin, whose scent sharpened like a blade and practically choking him. “Will he be missed?”
“Yes. He has a partner and a relatively large immediate family.”
Yin smiled. It was dark, sinister.” “Good, It’s better that way.” He walked over and opened a cabinet full of all sorts of tools. He pulled out a meat cleaver. He looked at it with a contemplative gaze, then put it back and instead pulled out a pair of gardening shears, the sharp edges gleaming in the light. The man started to protest, but Daou punched him in the face, hard, and he fell silent.
“Close the door. Don't let anyone in. And if War wakes up, tell him I'll be back soon.”
“Yes sir. Should we bring a body bag for disposal?”
“No. No need. Bring a garbage bag. It's where he belongs, and I’ll be sending him out in pieces.”
Daou just smiled and gave a slight bow before closing the heavy door with a clang, leaving Yin and his terrified guest locked inside.
The alpha sighed and pulled up a chair next to his victim. He would start with his toes. Then his fingers. After that, who knows? With the first clip of the shears, the man's yell echoed around the room.
And Yin smiled.
He wasn't a good man. He had accepted that about himself a long time ago. It was the piece of himself that he hid, but even then, his omega saw it simmering under the surface and still loved him fiercely, wholly, and completely.
But as far as how bad he was, well, that was something War never had to know. War was sunshine and summer, and he'd help him find his light again, starting now.
End