Chapter Text
Beneath the city’s noise, far below the reach of sunlight and the polished glass towers above, a dimly lit underground bunker pulsed with restless life. The hum of monitors filled the space, their cold blue glow washing over steel walls and concrete floors, making everything look sharp, sterile, and dangerous. Men moved like shadows through the bunker, carrying crates of ammunition, stringing lines across giant maps pinned to walls, checking weapons, and speaking in low voices as they prepared for something far bigger than anyone outside could possibly imagine.
At the center of the chaos sat Gihoon, his legs spread wide as he leaned back lazily in his chair, looking almost too relaxed for the storm brewing around him. A glass of whiskey rested in one hand, amber liquid catching the dim light as he swirled it absently. On his other hand was a dart. Without much thought, he flicked it across the room, and it struck true, burying itself straight into a black-and-white portrait of the Redline elder council hanging on the far wall. The dart pierced right through the eye of one of the old men.
“That bitch shot my man straight through the lung,” Gihoon muttered darkly, dragging his tongue over his teeth as irritation simmered beneath his skin. His anger from the gala, from the sniper’s death, hadn’t faded. If anything, it had grown worse with every passing hour.
“Your fault for provoking him,” came an alpha’s voice from the shadows.
Gihoon turned his head.
From behind a wall of glowing monitors, a tall, broad-shouldered alpha stepped into the light. He wore fitted tactical gear, every inch of him built for combat, and running down the side of his neck like a permanent scar was the unmistakable Redline crest, inked deep into his skin.
“He’s still one of us,” Dohyun said flatly, his sharp eyes unreadable, his tone carrying no room for argument. “No matter how far he runs. No matter how much he pretends to be something else. Blood is blood. And blood always comes back.”
Gihoon scoffed under his breath, swirling his drink once more before slamming the glass down hard enough to make the table shake. “I don’t give a shit what the council wants. I don’t care about rebuilding some dead dynasty.” His eyes darkened. “I want him. That’s it.”
Dohyun stepped closer, his presence swallowing the room like a predator stalking prey. “You should care,” he said. “Because Redline is rotting without him. The council is fractured. The bloodline is unstable. And once he’s back…”
“They’ll obey again,” Gihoon finished, his lips pulling into a thin smile.
Dohyun tilted his head, expression unreadable. “And his husband?”
A slow, dangerous smirk spread across Gihoon’s face. “I want him dead. Slowly, if I can help it.”
Back at the penthouse, morning light spilled through the wide windows in pale strips, stretching over the dining table where the four of them sat. The air was quieter now, cleaner somehow, but tension still hung in the room like smoke that hadn’t fully cleared. After Mingi’s confession to Yunho and the attack from the sniper, none of them could pretend things were simple anymore.
Now, Yunho and Mingi sat across from San and Wooyoung at the dining table, the air thick with something heavier than coffee or breakfast. Between them, Yunho placed the crumpled photograph from the night before onto the table.
Wooyoung blinked at it, leaning closer, and his eyes widened in pure shock. “Is that... Mingi with a gun?” he asked, his voice climbing. Then his gaze snapped to the mark on the older man’s chest. “And is that the Redline crest?!”
His wide eyes shot toward the married couple.
“Yup,” Mingi muttered casually, reaching across the table without a care and stealing a piece of waffle from Wooyoung’s plate as if the entire room wasn’t seconds away from exploding. “Old life.”
Wooyoung stared at him like he’d grown another head. “W-what?” he asked, almost choking. “I thought you were a civilian?”
“I am,” Mingi said, chewing. “Well… now. But before, I was part of Redline.”
“Part of Redline?!” Wooyoung repeated, disbelief written all over his face.
“More like the heir of Redline, Wooyoungie,” San corrected from beside him. His arm was wrapped around Wooyoung’s waist, his voice calm as ever.
“Heir?!” Wooyoung nearly shouted this time, whipping his head toward his husband. “And you knew?”
There was a brief silence. Mingi and San exchanged a glance, the kind they’d shared for years.
“Yes,” San admitted honestly.
“And you didn’t tell me?” Wooyoung turned fully toward his husband now, offended, then quickly looked at Yunho. “Yuyu, did you know too?”
Yunho let out a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, resting one hand over the back of his husband’s chair while his husband continued eating something sweet beside him like nothing was happening. “I only found out last night,” he said while his other hand tapped against the table.
Wooyoung blinked again, his brain clearly struggling. Then his brows furrowed. “Wait... was this what you two talked about yesterday?” he asked Mingi, referring to his visit.
“No, that was something else,” San said, then gently pushed the plate of waffles nearer to Mingi, who accepted it without hesitation, he dragged the plate closer to himself. Yunho noticed it at once and made him raise a brow.
“San and I were the only ones who knew my real identity,” Mingi explained, cutting into another piece of waffle. “Yes, I’m Redline’s heir, Youngie. But I left. And San and I didn’t meet at the café where I worked. We met at our mansion. He helped me escape from the council.”
Wooyoung sat frozen, staring blankly as he processed everything.
“So let me get this straight,” he said slowly, pointing at Mingi. “You’re the heir of Redline, pretending to be a civilian, and you” he pointed at his husband “knew this the whole time, and both of you kept it from me and Yunho?”
“And Gihoon is trying to take Mingi back,” San added.
Wooyoung’s mouth fell open and whipped his head around. “What?! What do you mean take back?”
Mingi took a sip of water before answering. “I have a history with Gihoon.”
Yunho scoffed immediately, unable to stop the sharp reaction. Meanwhile Wooyoung’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.
“What the fuck, Min?! Gihoon?! Really?!” he blurted out. “How? When? Why?”
The other omega sighed. “Because of Redline,” he answered flatly. “During Redline. And again… because of Redline.”
Wooyoung leaned back into his chair and pressed a hand to his stomach dramatically. “This is too much stress and too much information for a pregnant omega,” he muttered.
San instantly rested his hand over Wooyoung’s belly protectively, rubbing it once. Then he looked at Yunho.
“So what’s the plan now?” His voice was serious. He already knew about the attack the night before. He understood the stakes.
Yunho’s expression hardened.
“We think Gihoon’s trying to restore the Redline family. Piece by piece. And he’s using insiders to do it.”
“Insiders?” San repeated.
Mingi set down his mug, his face growing colder. “After Yunho’s men retrieved the sniper’s body last night, I checked it myself. He had Redline’s mark. But not from my generation.”
Wooyoung frowned. “Which means?”
“They’re gathering under someone new,” Yunho answered grimly. “Someone tied to the bloodline, but not controlled by the old council. Someone Gihoon thinks he can use.”
Mingi lowered his eyes.
“And I know who.”
San’s brows lifted. “Who?”
Mingi’s jaw tightened. “My cousin.” A pause. “Dohyun.”
The alpha leaned back, brows raised. “Didn’t he try to strangle you with piano wire when you were sixteen?” He almost sounded amused.
Wooyoung looked between them in complete disbelief. “Wait, he did what?!”
Mingi nodded while taking another bite of waffle covered in syrup and whipped cream, way too calm for someone talking about attempted murder. “Yes. He was never subtle.”
Yunho’s gaze darkened as he looked at San. “We need eyes on Gihoon’s whole circle. If Mingi’s right and this is about rebuilding Redline, then we’re looking at a syndicate-level uprising. If his blood makes him a target, then we move first.”
San tilted his head. “…Kill Gihoon?”
His husband’s voice dropped lower. “Eventually.”
Mingi leaned forward, a dangerous smile tugging at his lips, something old and deadly flickering in his eyes.
“But first,” he said softly, “we draw him out.”
Wooyoung blinked. “How?”
Mingi’s smile widened. The kind of smile that belonged to Redline. The kind Yunho was only now starting to understand.
“I go back in.”
Both San and Wooyoung immediately looked at Yunho.
“You agreed to that?” Wooyoung asked in disbelief.
Yunho clenched his jaw. “No,” he said firmly, his voice flat. Then he looked at his husband. “But I trust Mingi.”
Mingi looked back at him and smiled, small and genuine.
For a moment, Yunho smiled too. He reached over, wiping the bit of whipped cream from the corner of Mingi’s lips with his thumb, the gesture was kind of quiet and intimate. And despite everything hanging over them, the room, the danger, the blood waiting ahead, that small gesture said enough.
Whatever came next, they were walking into it together.
The warehouse was dressed like a masquerade.
Smoke curled lazily from old iron lanterns hanging from rusted chains overhead, their dim orange glow mixing with the deep red pulse beneath the cracked glass flooring. Every step across it looked like walking over a heartbeat, the entire place alive in its own sick way. Low music vibrated through the building, violins trembling over heavy bass, creating a sound that felt elegant at first, until you listened too long and realized how unsettling it really was.
Masked figures moved through the room like wolves dressed in silk and expensive suits, their faces hidden, their intentions sharper than knives.
It was all an illusion.
A false image of class layered over decay. This was not a ball, this was not society. This was a den of killers dressing themselves up like kings.
And at the center of it all, stepping through the smoke like he had never truly left this world, was Mingi.
His face was half-hidden behind a black-and-red masquerade mask, sharp enough to hide every trace of softness he carried in his civilian life, turning his eyes into something colder, something dangerous. He wore a crimson high-collared jacket that brushed against his thighs as he walked, the fabric expensive, clean, elegant, but stained by the image it created. His hair was styled the way it used to be back when he still lived under Redline, slicked back just enough to expose his sharp features.
For a moment, he did not look like Yunho’s husband.
He looked exactly like what Redline had always wanted him to be.
A weapon.
Danger wrapped in beauty.
“Target’s in position,” Jongho’s voice crackled through the earpiece.
Several rooftops away, parked deep in the shadows, sat a black surveillance van with its headlights off. Inside, Yunho sat in full black tactical gear, every inch of his body tight with tension. His eyes never left the live feed showing Mingi walking straight into enemy territory.
Beside him sat San and Wooyoung.
San and Wooyoung had argued before they left. He had told Wooyoung to stay home, saying it was too dangerous, especially in his condition. But his omega had refused. Now Wooyoung sat there with his growing belly strapped carefully in a supportive wrap, one hand resting protectively over it while the other moved quickly over the keyboard. The glow of the monitors reflected against his pale skin, controlling camera angles and tracking movement.
“You okay?” Wooyoung asked softly, glancing at Yunho. His voice carried worry, heavier than usual.
Yunho’s jaw clenched. His eyes stayed glued to the screen. He didn’t answer right away. When he finally did, his voice came out low, rough, almost like a growl.
“I hate this. I hate every fucking second of this.”
San crossed his arms, staring at the monitor.
“We all do.” He narrowed his eyes. “He’s ten feet from Dohyun.”
Inside the warehouse, Dohyun noticed Mingi almost immediately.
The alpha moved through the crowd like a wolf parting a flock of sheep, his half-mask hiding little of the cruel smirk stretching across his face. His shoulders were broad, his steps slow and confident.
“Mingi.”
Mingi stopped in front of him. He walked straight toward him, each step smooth, deliberate, trained. “You remembered.”
Dohyun grinned wider, rolling his shoulders.
“Of course I did,” he said. “Not every cousin fakes his death and runs off to play pet for another syndicate.”
Mingi raised an eyebrow under the mask.
“Pet?” he repeated. “Cute.”
Dohyun chuckled darkly. “You’re bolder than I remember. Does mating make omegas cockier, or just dumber?”
The insult landed sharp, but Mingi’s smile was sharper. “No,” he said calmly. “Killing does.”
For a moment, silence sat between them.
Then Dohyun laughed, loud enough for it to echo through the masquerade hall, but his eyes never left Mingi’s.
“So why are you here, little royal?” His voice dropped lower now, dangerous.
“I’m bored,” Mingi answered flatly. He adjusted the cuffs of his jacket, his movements slow and deliberate, carrying that old arrogance only someone trained by Redline could wear naturally. “Domestic life gets stale,” he said. “I figured I’d come to play a little.”
Dohyun’s eyes narrowed. Suspicion slipped into his gaze. “Convince me.”
Mingi tilted his head. The light hit his mask, glinting red. “You want the throne,” he said. “And I still have blood ties to it. If you want legitimacy, you need me alive. If you want loyalty, you need me standing beside you.”
Dohyun leaned in closer, his breath brushing Mingi’s ear. “And what does your husband think of that?”
The mention of Yunho, something twisted in Mingi’s chest. But he didn’t show it. His expression stayed cold. “What makes you think he even knows I’m here?”
Dohyun studied him. Long, intense and dangerous. The kind of stare that would make most people crack. But Mingi stood still, then the alpha smirked.
“Because you’ve always been a shitty liar, Mingi.”
Mingi’s lips twitched. “Then I guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong, cousin.”
Inside the van, Yunho’s fist tightened so hard his knuckles cracked.
“That’s enough,” he muttered, already reaching for the door. “He’s too close. I’m going in.”
“Wait.” San grabbed his shoulder, stopping him. His tone was calm, but firm. “Trust him. Mingi said he needed to trigger something. He’s doing it now.”
Back inside, Dohyun suddenly clapped his hands once. The music stopped instantly, the entire warehouse fell silent, every masked figure turned toward Mingi.
Dohyun’s voice echoed across the warehouse.
“Tell me, cousin. If you’re not lying… strip away this civilian act. Prove your loyalty. Prove you still bleed Redline.”
Mingi smirked. “Fine.”
He stepped into the center of the room. The crowd parted around him, making space like vultures circling prey. Slowly, he shrugged off his crimson jacket. It slipped from his shoulders and fell to the floor like spilled blood.
Then, in one swift movement so fast most couldn’t follow it, he pulled a blade hidden in his sleeve and snapped his wrist. A blade flashed. The hidden knife shot through the air and buried itself deep into the wooden post beside Dohyun’s head.
The crack of impact thundered through the silence. Not a graze. Not a miss. But a warning. The entire hall froze.
Mingi looked at him coldly. “Still want to test me?”
Dohyun stared, then slowly smiled. But this time there was something else there. Respect. Amusement. And the faintest bit of fear. “You really haven’t changed.”
The omega stepped closer, his voice dropped low enough for only Dohyun to hear. “No,” he whispered. “I just got better at pretending.”
Back in the van, Yunho’s hand crushed the leather seat under his grip.
“He’s baiting them,” Wooyoung said, trying to stay calm, though his hand tightened over his stomach. “And Dohyun’s taking it.”
“Yeah,” Yunho growled. “And if this goes too far, I’m going in.”
“Not yet,” San said, though even his voice was tight now.
Then suddenly the screens flickered. Static. Dark.
Wooyoung’s breath caught. “What the hell?”
San’s fingers moved fast across the controls. Then his face darkened. “There’s a jammer.” His voice sharpened. “They blocked every signal inside the warehouse. Cameras are dead. Comms are dead.”
Yunho didn’t wait, he was already moving. The van door slammed open, and Yunho ran toward the warehouse with several guards immediately following behind him, falling into formation behind him from the nearby vehicles parked around the block.
Inside the warehouse, the lights snapped off.
Then the emergency bulbs kicked in one by one, flooding the masquerade hall in deep, pulsing crimson that made the masked crowd look less human and more like moving shadows. The elegant silhouettes dissolved into something ugly and violent. Somewhere in the dark, a dozen weapons were being drawn at once.
And then gunfire tore through the room.
“Secure the asset! Do not let him escape, he’s ours!” Dohyun’s voice thundered over the chaos, loud and commanding, a predator’s bark over the sound of screaming guests and shattered glass.
Mingi was already in motion before the command even finished echoing.
He snatched a chair from the nearest table and slammed it straight into the knees of the guard charging from his left, sending the man crashing forward with a pained grunt. Mingi pivoted instantly, spun on the ball of his foot, and drove his elbow into another attacker’s jaw hard enough to make teeth click. Bullets ripped through the air around him, punching holes through the silk curtains, cracking the decorative panels, and sending people scrambling across the floor.
He ducked low, twisted under a flying blade, and caught the wrist of a man who lunged at him from the front. Mingi yanked the pistol from that hand, turned it in one smooth motion, and fired two shots straight into the ceiling. Sparks burst overhead as glass and metal fragments rained down, forcing the closest men to shield their faces.
“Try me,” Mingi hissed, eyes burning with a wild, dangerous light that looked far too much like the heir Redline had once tried to forge.
One of Dohyun’s lieutenants came at him from the right with a knife raised high. Mingi reacted without hesitation, grabbing the heavy wooden table beside him and hurling it straight into the man’s body. The impact dropped him flat to the floor, but there were already more men closing in, moving fast, surrounding him from every side.
Five against one.
Then a taser clipped Mingi’s side.
White-hot pain exploded through his body. His muscles locked, his breath broke, and he screamed as his knees hit the floor hard enough to jar through his whole frame. His limbs jerked violently from the shock, every nerve screaming at once.
Hands seized him immediately. Two men clamped down on each of his arms, another drove a knee into Mingi’s back, pinning him face-down on the floor while the crimson lights flashed above them like an alarm.
“They got the target!” Jongho’s voice came through weakly over the broken earpiece.
The second Yunho heard that, something in him snapped, he ran faster toward the warehouse. In the surveillance car, San and Wooyoung exchanged a tense look, both of them unable to hide their panic for the omega inside.
“You need to go, Sannie! You need to save Minnie!” Wooyoung said, already trying to pull at his husband’s arm with both panic and urgency in his voice.
“No!” San snapped immediately, his jaw tight. “I will never leave you here, Wooyoungie!”
“Sannie, Mingi is pregnant! He needs help from us!” Wooyoung insisted, his voice cracking as he clutched at San’s sleeve.
“Yunho is there, and his men are with him. He can save Mingi.” San snapped, not even bothering to soften it.
“Still, he is your friend, San,” Wooyoung said, frustration and fear mixing together now. “Dohyun has too many men. Yunho needs you. I am fine here.”
“No, Wooyoung. You’re pregnant and need protection too! You are not making me leave you here,” San said, his expression serious now as he stared at his omega.
“Choi San!” Wooyoung snapped, frustrated now, his hand pressing against his stomach. “Mingi needs you too!”
For a few seconds, San said nothing. He only stared at his omega, who was now clearly begging him with his eyes to help Mingi. Then he let out a long breath and finally gave in.
“Stay here,” he ordered. “Do not go outside no matter what happens. Lock the door.” The alpha reached for the earpiece on the seat, his expression hardening into something cold and focused.
Wooyoung nodded quickly, San leaned down and kissed him, quick but deep. “Be careful,” he whispered.
Then San was already out of the vehicle.
Back inside the warehouse, Dohyun moved forward slowly, like a king walking back to reclaim something he believed belonged to him. He crouched in front of Mingi, knife catching the red light, his expression twisted with cold satisfaction.
“I warned you,” Dohyun said in a low voice, almost intimate in how cruel it sounded. “I gave you a chance. You were never built for peace, Mingi.”
Mingi struggled hard against the hands restraining him, still trying to kick even while his body trembled from the shock. The pain had not broken his eyes. If anything, it made them fiercer.
Dohyun raised the knife.
But before the blade could fall, a bullet shattered the skylight above them. Glass exploded downward in a glittering storm.
And through the shower of broken light, Yunho descended like wrath given human form. No mask. No hesitation. No pause to measure the room. Only fury carved into every line of his face. He fired twice before his boots even hit the floor. Four clean shots. Four guards collapsed instantly. Then Yunho landed hard, already turning, shooting another in the throat, already reaching for Mingi with the same deadly precision he used for every fight.
He caught Mingi by the arm and dragged him up against his chest in one sharp motion, using his own body like a shield.
“You came,” Mingi rasped, his voice raw from the taser and the shock still buzzing through his limbs.
Yunho’s mouth twisted into a fierce smirk even with murder burning in his eyes. “You expected anything less?”
A weak grin pulled at Mingi’s lips. “Not from my hot-headed husband.”
Yunho’s stare sharpened on him instantly. “Remind me to punish you later for this stunt.”
“Promise,” Mingi whispered.
Then the room exploded.
Gunfire cracked from every direction. Screams rose and collided with the sound of boots, bodies hitting the floor, and the shattering of decorative glass all around them. Blood smeared across the warehouse floor in dark streaks. Men from Dohyun’s side rushed in from both wings, while Yunho’s men stormed the opposite side with ruthless speed.
San entered from the east door like a shadow born for this kind of night.
He did not waste words. He did not shout. His pistol had a silencer on it, and every shot he fired was precise and merciless. One man dropped after another, bodies collapsing like dominos as San advanced through the carnage with a face so calm it was almost frightening.
Meanwhile, Yunho moved like death itself.
He emptied one magazine with surgical precision, each bullet placed to disable or kill, then slammed the butt of his weapon into one man’s skull hard enough to hear the crack. Without breaking stride, he drew his knife and drove it into one throat, yanking it free in a single clean motion before spinning toward the next attacker.
Mingi, shaking but furious, staggered to his feet and grabbed the taser that had been dropped nearby. A man came at him from the side, and Mingi rammed the device into his ribs. The man screamed and collapsed, convulsing on the floor as Mingi stumbled back, teeth clenched, refusing to go down again.
Outside the warehouse, Wooyoung was glued to the monitors, his fingers trembling over the jammer detonator while sweat gathered along his forehead. He kept staring at the feed, waiting for something to come back.
Inside, Dohyun was retreating now, a fresh wound bleeding heavily from his leg, but even then he did not look rattled. He looked smug, almost pleased, as if everything was unfolding exactly the way he had wanted.
“You think this is over?” he shouted over the gunfire, his voice carrying through the warehouse. “Gihoon is already making his move!”
Yunho caught Mingi’s body. “What does that mean?”
They were about to move after Dohyun when Jongho’s voice suddenly ripped through the comms, strained and rough with pain.
“Boss! Gihoon’s men took sir Wooyoung!”
Rain hammered down like bullets from the heavens.
Yunho’s car screeched violently to a stop outside their building, tires burning against the wet pavement before the engine even fully died. The door slammed hard behind him as he stepped out, rain soaking through his clothes almost instantly, his boots leaving dark wet marks across the marble floor as he stormed inside without slowing down. Beside him, Mingi kept pace despite the slight limp from the taser hit earlier, his body still aching from the electric shock, but he refused to let anyone help him, even his husband. One hand stayed pressed tightly against his stomach, protective and instinctive, while Yunho kept glancing at it, his eyes narrowing each time, noticing but saying nothing yet.
San and Jongho were already in the basement.
The mafia boss stood motionless in the center of the room, drenched from the rain and completely silent, blood staining the collar of his shirt from one of Dohyun’s men. His face, usually unreadable and calm, was carved into pure cold rage now. Beside him stood Jongho, his younger frame bruised badly, cuts across his cheek, blood smeared across his uniform, clear proof of how hard he fought trying to stop them from taking Wooyoung.
No one spoke when the four of them entered Yunho’s office.
The air felt suffocating.
Mingi’s eyes quietly moved around the room, taking everything in. In three years of marriage, this was the first time he had ever been inside his husband’s private office. Dark shelves lined the walls, loaded with files and weapons. Monitors flickered against the dimness, maps and encrypted data spread across them. His hands remained over his stomach without him realizing it.
San broke the silence first, his voice flat. “Wooyoung’s tracker was disabled six minutes ago.”
Yunho’s jaw flexed hard. “And the jammer?”
“Custom-built. Military-grade,” Jongho answered, voice rough. “Burned out after one use. Whoever planned it knew our system.”
Mingi stepped forward, his breathing uneven from pain and adrenaline. “Dohyun might have taken him, but this was Gihoon. Redline wouldn’t risk this much exposure without someone funding it, organizing it.”
“He’s pregnant,” San said suddenly, his voice low and dangerous. The room fell silent. “They took my pregnant omega, Mingi.”
Then the alpha moved, his hand slammed downward, driving a knife straight into the center of the table. The blade buried itself deep into the wood, splitting it with a loud crack.
“I should never have left,” he said, breathing hard. “I should have stayed in that damn car. I should’ve protected him.”
Jongho stepped a little closer, his bruised face lowering further. “I’m sorry, Sir. I couldn’t protect Sir. Wooyoung in time. There were too many of them. I fought as long as I could.”
San didn’t answer immediately, he only gave a single nod. But the anger on his face never disappeared.
Mingi’s fists shook at his sides. “Wooyoung is strong. He’s smart. If they’re keeping him alive, they need something. He’s leverage.”
Yunho turned sharply toward him. “Then it’s time you stop holding back.”
Mingi blinked. “What?”
“No more half-truths,” Yunho said coldly. “No more controlled information. I want the entire Redline file. Everything. Every code, every hidden base, every name.”
Confusion flashed across Mingi’s face. “Yunho, I’m not—”
Yunho stepped closer, voice low and sharp enough to cut. “They took Wooyoung, Mingi. If they get to you too, I lose you. So no more pretending. No more soft versions of yourself.”
Mingi looked at San. The alpha still didn’t speak but his eyes said everything.
Do it.
Mingi took a long breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the softness was gone. His gaze darkened. “Fine.”
A few minutes later, Mingi sat at Yunho’s desk while Yunho stood beside him, one hand planted on the table and the other on the back of his chair. Behind them, San and Jongho stood silently, watching the laptop that Mingi had personally gone upstairs to retrieve from their penthouse.
His fingers moved quickly over the keyboard, entering layers of encrypted codes.
A secure archive portal flashed open, an internal encrypted network, a classified Redline database, a biometric legacy system.
The screen glowed.
WELCOME, SONG MINGI.
“They’ll keep Wooyoung alive,” Mingi said while pulling up old records. “Gihoon isn’t reckless. He’s arrogant. That means he’ll keep Wooyoung somewhere central. Close enough to control.”
A map unfolded across the screen.
San leaned in. “Why keep him close?”
Mingi’s mouth tightened. “Because of me.”
Yunho’s eyes sharpened. “Explain.”
Mingi clicked deeper into the Redline archives, names, blueprints, hidden bunkers, council records, bloodline registries.
Everything flashed past.
“Gihoon isn’t rebuilding the Redline,” Mingi said. “He’s trying to own it. But the bloodline still answers to me.”
“And Dohyun?” San asked.
“A pawn,” Mingi answered coldly. “Dangerous, but still a pawn. Gihoon doesn’t want Dohyun leading. They’re only working together because Gihoon wants me desperately. Broken.”
His husband swallowed. “Then what’s the endgame?”
Mingi turned and looked directly at him.
“He’s going to try to mate me. Properly this time. A full bond. Permanent. Unbreakable. Under Redline law.”
Yunho’s entire face darkened. “Like hell.” His fists clenched. “Over my dead body.”
Meanwhile, somewhere underground, Wooyoung’s eyes slowly blinked open.
Everything hurt.
His wrists were chained tightly behind him. His ankles were locked to the steel legs of the chair beneath him. The room was cold and smelled like rust and bleach. His clothes were untouched but his scent suppressants were gone. His omega scent leaked into the air, sharpened by fear and stress, but he forced himself to breathe through it.
He wouldn’t let them see weakness.
A soft click echoed.
Footsteps.
Gihoon stepped into the room dressed entirely in white, carrying a steaming cup of tea like he was visiting a guest instead of holding a hostage.
“For the baby,” Gihoon said with a cheerful smile as he placed it in front of him
Wooyoung glared. “Go to hell.”
Gihoon tilted his head. “You’re feisty. Choi really does have good taste.”
Wooyoung sneered. “Touch me and I’ll bite your hands until they bleed.”
Gihoon chuckled. “Oh, I won’t touch you.” His smile sharpened. “You’re just the leash.”
The omega’s brows furrowed. “What leash?”
Gihoon crouched in front of him. “Mingi,” he whispered. “He can’t ignore a captured omega. Especially not you.” His eyes dropped to Wooyoung’s stomach. “Especially while you’re pregnant.”
Wooyoung’s lip curled.
“You think he’ll crawl back to you?” he asked, laughing bitterly. “He’d shoot your balls off.”
Gihoon chuckled. “I don’t expect him to crawl.” His eyes darkened. “But he’ll trade.”
Wooyoung spat directly into his face.
The alpha wiped it away and laughed. “You’ll break. Or he will.”
Back in Yunho’s office, Mingi had found the location.
“It’s old Redline territory,” he said. “An underground bunker beneath the old mansion. Access only opens with legacy blood or coded keycards. The records mark it inactive, but if I were Gihoon, that’s where I’d go.”
Yunho looked at him. “You said legacy blood?”
Mingi nodded. “Mine.”
“Then we go together.”
The omega shook his head immediately. “Yunho, I’m the one Gihoon wants. I don’t want you dragged deeper into this.”
Yunho’s face darkened instantly. “No.” His voice was sharp. “I’m not letting you face that animal alone.”
“But Yun—”
“No, Mingi.” Yunho cut him off. His eyes burned. “I already let you do that once tonight. And look what happened. You almost died.”
Then San spoke behind them. “No. I will go alone.”
Yunho turned. “You’re just as stubborn.”
“He took my mate, Jeong.” the other alpha answered.
“You think I don’t know what that feels like?” Yunho growled. “Wooyoung was my friend long before he became your husband, Choi. You’re not going in there without us. Wooyoung would never forgive me if I let you die.”
San exhaled. “Then we go silent.”
The sky was pitch-black by the time they reached the outskirts of the Redline mansion.
Fog curled along the trees like smoke from a funeral pyre. The estate stood tall in the distance, ancient and rotting, elegant in its decay, every brick soaked in history and blood.
A place built for kings.
Or graves.
Yunho crouched near the back wall, his breath fogging in the cold air. Beside him, Mingi now dressed in matte black combat gear despite the pain from the taser, his body moved like memory. San stood behind them, silent, his eyes fixed on the mansion like a predator waiting to strike.
Jongho remained in the surveillance van, fingers over the comms, waiting for Yunho’s order before sending the rest of the men in.
Yunho glanced at Mingi. “This place used to be yours?”
Mingi’s eyes stayed on the mansion. “... Yes.”
Then they moved.
Yunho breached the west perimeter, slipping through the outer wall without making a sound. Mingi entered through the side servant’s corridor, moving through familiar paths he had memorized as a child. San climbed to the rooftop, disabling cameras and sensors one by one, his movements fluid and unnatural.
Then Mingi led them through the back wing, an old library waited there. Gold-trimmed shelves. Dust-covered books. Deep claw marks carved into the wood from long-forgotten fights.
Mingi stopped at a particular shelf. His fingers brushed over a leather-bound journal. “It’s here.”
He pulled the book halfway out.
Click.
The wall shifted. A hidden panel opened. Behind it was an elevator. Cold air spilled out. Mingi stepped inside first, then the two alpha followed. As the elevator descended deeper underground, Yunho reached over and gripped Mingi’s wrist.
“Are you sure?”
The omega turned to him. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have brought you.”
Yunho’s thumb brushed over the inside of his wrist, feeling his pulse racing.
When the doors opened, the stench of blood and antiseptic hit them like a wall. The underground facility was still active, humming faintly with machinery and old systems that had never truly died. They moved fast through steel-framed corridors, cutting corners with practiced precision, Mingi taking the lead without hesitation. He had not been here in years, but his body remembered every turn, every blind spot, every hidden route. Redline training never faded. It lived in the bones.
Inside one of the holding rooms, Wooyoung sat bound and gagged to a steel chair, his wrists rubbed raw and red from fighting against the restraints. His breathing was uneven, chest rising and falling hard, but his eyes were still burning with fight. Fear was there, but it had not broken him.
The moment the heavy door exploded inward, he jerked his head up.
Yunho and San stormed in fast, silent and mercilessly.
One guard by the far wall barely had time to raise his weapon before Yunho fired first, the bullet punching straight through his forehead. The man dropped before he even understood what happened. Another guard lunged for San, but San caught him by the throat and slammed him into the wall so hard the metal panel behind him cracked from the force.
Wooyoung gasped against the gag, eyes wide.
San dropped to his knees in front of him and ripped the gag free.
“Hey,” San said softly, brushing Wooyoung’s damp hair away from his face, his hand trembling despite how calm his voice sounded. “I’m here.”
Wooyoung blinked rapidly, tears gathering in his eyes from the sheer relief. “Y-you took long enough… I was scared.”
San cupped his mate’s face like he was something fragile, something precious. “Me too. Fuck, Wooyoungie...”
Yunho turned sharply toward the door, gun still raised, senses screaming. “We need to get out. Now.”
“Wait.”
They all turned.
Mingi was standing by the doorway, shoulders tense, eyes dark and unreadable. His entire body had gone still. “He’s here.”
Elsewhere in the mansion, deep beneath layers of stone and blood-soaked history, Gihoon stood in the ritual chamber.
The room was ancient.
Gold lined the walls in intricate carvings of wolves, bloodlines, and mating rites. The floor was carved with the old Redline crest, stained darker in certain places where blood had once been spilled for tradition. Candles flickered despite the underground air, and at the center stood the altar.
Gihoon ran his thumb over the crest beneath his feet.
“They’re here,” Dohyun said from the doorway, breathing heavier than usual, blood staining his pant leg from the gunshot earlier. “They got in through the side corridor. The omega’s gone.”
Gihoon did not even look up. “Let them come.”
Dohyun frowned. “You’re not running?”
“No,” Gihoon said calmly, his voice almost amused. “Tonight, I end it.”
Back in the corridor, Mingi turned to Yunho. “Take Wooyoung and get out.”
Yunho’s expression sharpened instantly. “The hell I will.”
“This is my fight, Yunho.”
“And I am your husband,” Yunho snapped back, fury burning in his eyes. “You think I’m walking away while you face him alone?”
Mingi could not answer.
San looked between them before tightening his hold on Wooyoung. “I can get Wooyoung out. I’ll tell Jongho to send your men in.”
Wooyoung opened his mouth to argue, but San kissed his temple first, holding him there for a second longer than necessary.
“Trust them,” The alpha whispered.
Wooyoung swallowed and nodded.
For a second, Mingi and Yunho looked at each other. Then they moved. They made their way through glowing corridors, until they reached the ritual chamber. The massive red doors stood ahead of them like the entrance to hell itself, towering and heavy, painted in blood-colored lacquer and marked by the old Redline crest. Yunho did not pause. He shoved them open with one violent push.
Inside, Gihoon waited. No guards. No weapons. Just him.
Mingi stepped inside first.
Gihoon smiled immediately, slow and ugly and full of satisfaction. “There he is. My little ghost.”
Yunho stepped in behind him, his gun already raised, his body poised and ready to kill.
Gihoon’s eyes flicked over Yunho with clear amusement, as if the alpha’s fury only entertained him. “Ah. The husband. The mate. The alpha. So protective. So predictable.”
Then he stood.
“You know, Mingi” Gihoon said, his voice smooth and sickeningly calm, “you were never meant to leave. That bond you think you buried? You never erased it.”
Mingi’s pulse spiked. “What?”
Gihoon stepped closer. “You and I were halfway through the rites when you ran. That’s why I can still feel you when I’m close.”
Yunho snarled and stepped forward immediately, rage flaring through his pheromones so thick the room almost shook with it, but Mingi stopped him with one hand against his arm.
Gihoon tilted his head, smiling like he enjoyed every second of this.
“You think you’re fully his?” he asked. “You’re not. Not until you finish it with me. Or sever it with blood.”
Mingi’s face went blank. “You’re lying.”
The alpha walked to the table beside him and opened a small black velvet box. Inside was a ceremonial knife, old and sharp, the blade engraved with Redline scripture, stained dark from rituals that had happened long before any of them were born.
“You want freedom?” Gihoon asked. “Kill me with this. Right here. On the crest. Like tradition demands.”
Mingi stepped forward, but Yunho caught his wrist immediately. “Mingi.”
The omega looked at him. “This is how I end it, Yunho.”
Yunho tightened his grip. “It could be a trap. We both know how much he lies.”
Gihoon smiled wider.
Mingi was quiet for a long moment. Then he looked at his husband. “You trust me, right?”
Yunho stopped. His jaw tightened, and for one long second the whole room seemed to hold its breath. Then slowly, he let go.
The omega stepped onto the crest.
Gihoon offered the knife. “Do it.”
Mingi took it, his hand steady. His eyes lowered to the blade. “You always underestimated me,” he said, his voice low and flat.
Gihoon’s smile faltered.
Then Mingi moved.
Fast.
The blade flashed toward Gihoon’s throat in one brutal sweep, but Gihoon twisted at the last second, reading him just in time. The knife still cut deep enough to spill blood across his collar, but not enough to finish it. His grin returned immediately, blood streaking his skin.
“No, Mingi. I always know you.”
His leg shot forward. His boot slammed hard into Mingi’s stomach.
Mingi’s arms dropped instinctively, shielding his stomach, protecting it on pure instinct, but the force still sent him flying backward. The knife flew from his hand and clattered across the floor.
“Ah!” Pain exploded through his back as he hit the stone.
“Mingi!”
Yunho fired instantly.
Gihoon ducked low, rolled across the marble, grabbed a hidden pistol from beneath the ritual table, and fired back without hesitation.
The chamber erupted.
Bullets tore through the room, snapping through the air so fast they sounded like whips. Stone exploded from the pillars. Glass shattered overhead. The whole room turned into a storm of ricochets, smoke, and gunpowder.
Yunho dove behind one of the thick stone columns as bullets ripped past his head. He leaned out just enough to fire twice. Gihoon disappeared behind the altar, moving fast, using the broken chamber as cover.
Yunho rushed him without hesitation.
Then they collided.
The alpha slammed his fist into Gihoon’s jaw with enough force to snap his head sideways, and Gihoon answered with a vicious elbow into Yunho’s ribs. The alpha grunted but did not back up. He drove his forehead into Gihoon’s face hard enough to split the skin.
Gihoon staggered, snatched another knife from the ritual table, and swung, but Yunho caught his wrist and twisted until the blade dropped. He kneed him in the stomach making Yunho stumbled, breath punching out of him.
Gihoon seized him by the collar and slammed him into the altar. The stone cracked beneath the impact.
Blood ran from Yunho’s lip.
“You are nothing but a replacement,” Gihoon spat.
Yunho snarled and drove his fist into the other alpha’s throat. He coughed and lurched backward, one hand flying to his neck.
Across the room, Mingi was already forcing himself upright, one hand pressed tightly over his stomach while the other trembled at his side. His body ached. His back burned. His head throbbed from the hit. But he pushed through all of it because the first thought in his mind was not his own pain.
It was the life he was carrying.
Please... please, baby, be okay.
He grabbed the fallen ceremonial knife from the floor.
Gihoon pulled another hidden knife and rushed Yunho again.
Steel clashed.
Yunho caught the knife with the reinforced guard on his forearm and slammed Gihoon into the pillar. Gihoon punched him across the mouth, splitting Yunho’s lip open, then raised the blade for Yunho’s throat.
Mingi moved fast and silent, the knife in his hand flashed.
Gihoon’s eyes widened as Mingi sliced deep across his neck. Blood poured out at once, hot and bright against the ritual chamber floor. The alpha staggered back, choking, one hand flying to his throat.
Then Mingi turned toward Yunho. “Yunho!”
Yunho understood at once. He hurled the fallen gun toward him.
Mingi caught it cleanly.
Yunho turned back to Gihoon, seized him by the shoulder, and shoved him down onto the Redline crest. Then, without hesitation, the omega pulled the trigger. The shot went straight through Gihoon’s head. His body dropped to the floor with a heavy, final sound.
Dead.
Mingi exhaled then walked toward the body, his breathing rough, one hand still pressed protectively against his stomach. He looked down at Gihoon, cold and unblinking.
“Didn’t I tell you,” he said quietly, “that I would slit your throat and shoot you in the head?”
Then he shot his head again and again and again, until he felt his husband behind him. And slowly he lowered the gun.
Finally.
The alpha’s chest rose and fell against his back. There was blood at the corner of Yunho’s mouth from the fight, and his breathing was heavy and uneven, but he was there.
Mingi turned, and Yunho cupped his face and kissed him. “I’m proud of you,” he whispered against his lips.
The omega forced himself to smile. He wanted to reach for his alpha. He wanted to hold on tighter. The pain in his stomach was already getting worse, but he forced himself to stay still so Yunho would not panic.
Then they turned away from Gihoon’s body. They had barely stepped out of the ritual chamber when the mansion’s alarms began to scream. Red lights flashed overhead, turning the halls into a pulse of emergency color. The walls vibrated. A deep mechanical rumble rolled beneath their feet from the foundations below.
Yunho’s head snapped up. “They are blowing the place,” he barked, catching Mingi’s wrist. “Someone triggered a full collapse protocol.”
Mingi scanned the hallway, his face sharpening with realization. “Dohyun is trying to bury us with the whole legacy.”
Jongho’s voice crackled through the comms, strained but clear. “Boss! The entire structure is compromised. You have less than six minutes. Sir San got Sir Wooyoung out.”
Relief surged through Yunho, but there was no time to rest in it.
“Come on!” he shouted, yanking Mingi forward as the walls around them started to groan.
They ran through the burning halls.
Floor tiles split apart beneath their feet. Ceiling panels came crashing down like deadly hail. Smoke flooded the corridor as one of the side wings collapsed behind them with a sickening crash that shook the whole mansion.
Mingi stumbled once, his hand flying to his stomach. He clenched his teeth and kept moving, even though his body was already screaming at him to stop.
Yunho glanced over. “Baby-”
“I’m fine!” Mingi gasped, forcing himself upright.
They reached the elevator shaft.
Dead.
Yunho looked up, then down, then toward the emergency ladder well across the corridor.
“Plan B,” he growled.
They bolted. Another blast echoed somewhere deeper underground, closer this time.
Yunho kicked open the hatch and hauled Mingi toward the ladder first. “I’ve got you,” he said.
Mingi was pale now, his breathing starting to hitch, but he nodded and began climbing. Yunho stayed right below him, one hand always hovering near his back in case he slipped.
Then a roar of fire surged up behind them.
Yunho grabbed Mingi’s waist and lifted him as smoke poured upward and burned at his lungs. They barely made it to the top platform before the floor below gave way with a thunderous collapse.
They burst out into the night air, coughing hard, coated in soot and ash. The moment they reached the treeline, the entire structure imploded behind them. A wave of dust blasted through the woods and threw them both to the ground.
Yunho curled around Mingi instantly, shielding him with his body as the shockwave rolled over them.
Then everything went quiet, only wind and the sound of their breathing.
Yunho slowly uncurled. “You good, baby?”
His omega did not answer.
Yunho turned him gently and froze. His mate’s hand was pressed over his stomach, trembling. Pain was carved across his face now, white and strained.
“Mingi?”
His lips were pale. “I... baby… hurts...”
Yunho’s stomach dropped. “Where?!”
Mingi doubled over with a quiet cry. “My stomach...”
“Shit. Shit.” Yunho pulled him into his arms immediately, lifting him like he was made of glass.
“Stay with me, baby. Just hold on.”
“I’m sorry,” Mingi whispered, his voice thin and fading, tears slipping down his face. “I didn’t want you to—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”
He hit the comms at once. “Jongho! I need a car at the east border. Now. It’s Mingi. He is not okay.”
Jongho’s answer came sharp and immediate. “On our way, boss.”
At the hospital, Yunho sat beside Mingi’s bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his head bowed low while his fists stayed clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone pale. The adrenaline from everything that had happened still had not left his body. His clothes had already been changed, the blood cleaned off, the cuts on his face stitched and bandaged, but none of it mattered while Mingi still had not woken up.
The machines beside the bed gave soft, steady beeps, each sound reminding him that his mate was still here.
That should have been enough to calm him, but it was not.
San and Wooyoung had gone back to their penthouse for now. The omega had refused to leave at first, still pale from his own kidnapping and clutching his husband's arm like if he let go, something else would go wrong. But Yunho had told them to rest. There was nothing they could do here.
So now it was just him and Mingi.
Yunho looked at his sleeping husband.
His face looked peaceful now, too peaceful after everything. The bruises on his body had been treated, the cuts cleaned, but Yunho could still remember the sight of him collapsing in the woods, pale and shaking in his arms.
It made his chest hurt. His hand moved slowly, brushing Mingi’s hair away from his forehead.
“You scared the hell out of me,” he whispered.
Then the door opened softly and a doctor stepped in. She was a beta, calm-faced and professional, carrying a clipboard in one hand.
Yunho looked up immediately, eyes burning with worry. “How is he, doc? He is okay, right? Please tell me my husband is okay,” he said, the fear in his voice impossible to hide.
The doctor gave him a reassuring look. “Mr. Jeong is stable. You were right to bring him in quickly. If you had been even a little later…”
Yunho frowned, swallowing hard. “What do you mean?”
The doctor gave him a small, reassuring smile. “It would have become a much bigger problem.”
Yunho stared at her in confusion.
Then she continued before the panic could swallow him whole. “It’s a good thing, your husband is strong. And so is your child.”
Yunho’s body went completely still. “What?” he whispered. “Child?”
The doctor’s smile softened even more. “He’s three months along. The stomach pain was a stress induced contraction. It is still early, but it is manageable. The baby’s heartbeat is strong.”
Then she excused herself a moment later and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her. Yunho did not move. He just sat there, stunned, the doctor’s words slowly settling into him one by one.
A baby.
They were having a baby.
His mind immediately ran back through the past week, through all the little things he had noticed but never connected properly. Mingi craving sweets more often than usual, the way his scent had changed slightly, stronger and sweeter in some moments, the way he kept touching his stomach, almost protectively, and the way his belly had seemed just slightly fuller. Yunho dragged a hand over his face and leaned back in the chair, guilt twisting in his chest.
Why had he not noticed sooner?
He turned toward the bed, where Mingi still slept, and reached for his hand. He held it carefully, almost reverently, like he was afraid of waking him too roughly.
“You’re pregnant,” he whispered, his voice broke. A tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it.
The thought alone was enough to warm his heart, because suddenly he could picture it too clearly, a tiny baby Mingi or a tiny baby Yunho living with them in their penthouse, filling the room with laughter, tiny cries, and even more love than he thought the place could hold.
Later, the room was quiet except for the soft beep of the monitor. Mingi stirred, lashes fluttering open slowly. The first thing he saw was Yunho’s face. Tired. Messy hair. Exhausted enough to look like he had not slept yet. And relieved. So deeply relieved that it almost hurt to look at.
“Baby…” Mingi whispered weakly.
Yunho was at his side in an instant, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Do not ever scare me like that again.”
Mingi gave him a small, apologetic smile. “Didn’t mean to.”
“You did not tell me.”
Mingi swallowed. “I was going to. I just… wanted it to be special. I did not want it to be wrapped in blood and smoke.”
Yunho let out a breath that was half a laugh and half a sigh. “Tough luck. You married a mafia boss.”
Mingi let out a soft chuckle, only to wince a little afterward, which made Yunho immediately hush him.
“Easy,” Yunho murmured. “You and our child just gave me a heart attack.”
Mingi's eyes widened. "You're not mad?"
Yunho kissed his forehead, long and soft. “Mingi, I have faced bullets, betrayal, collapsing buildings, and men with no conscience. But nothing scared me like almost losing you.”
His hand lowered carefully to Mingi’s stomach, touching it with such caution that the gesture felt almost sacred.
“Or them.”
Mingi’s lips trembled. “You still want this?”
Yunho laughed softly, his expression gentle now in a way only Mingi ever got to see. “More than anything.”
He climbed into the bed beside him and gathered him close, holding Mingi into his arms and tucking him under his chin. One hand rested over Mingi’s stomach, the other stroking his hair slowly, comfortingly, as if he could keep the entire world away simply by holding him tighter.
“You are never doing this alone again,” he whispered.
Mingi finally let himself relax, nuzzling into Yunho’s chest with a tiny, tired sigh. “I am craving cupcakes,” he murmured.
Yunho’s mouth curved into a grin. “Then you will have cupcakes.”
Two weeks later, the war was over.
At least for now.
The city buzzed with rumors about the Redline collapse, about a power shift, about Gihoon’s circle breaking apart from the inside. But inside Yunho’s penthouse, the air was warm, safe, and quiet. The kind of quiet that felt earned.
He stood in the kitchen with his sleeves rolled up, focused entirely on the task in front of him. Pancakes. Golden, fluffy, stacked high on a porcelain plate like he was preparing a shrine rather than breakfast. He was taking his job far too seriously, which was exactly why the edges were almost browning.
The soft sound of footsteps reached him from behind.
“You are burning the edges,” Mingi said from behind him, his voice light and teasing.
Yunho turned, spatula in hand. “I am literally following the recipe.”
“You are also flipping them too hard, the shape is getting ruined,” Mingi said with a soft snort.
Yunho lifted one brow, stepping closer. “Keep talking and I will flip you next, baby.”
Mingi raised both hands in mock surrender, eyes glimmering with playful innocence. “I am a delicate, pregnant omega, sir. You would not dare.”
Yunho’s expression softened immediately. “Are you really okay?”
Mingi walked over to him and placed a hand over the small curve of his bump. It still was not very obvious, but Yunho’s eyes always drifted there whenever he could, like it anchored him.
“I am fine,” Mingi said. “Tired. Craving weird shit. But... fine.”
Yunho leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “You terrified me, Mingi.”
“I know.”
Yunho switched off the stove and wrapped both arms around his pregnant omega, pulling him close against his chest. “Now that Gihoon is gone, and your cousin is in custody, the Redline name does not own you anymore. It is just us now. You, me…” His hand settled gently over Mingi’s stomach. “And them.”
Mingi stayed quiet for a while, then spoke with a softness that made Yunho’s chest ache. “I thought I was protecting you. But really, I was just scared. Scared that if you saw the part of me that was not soft, not civilian, you would not want me anymore.”
Yunho held him tighter. “Mingi. I love you. All of you. The civilian who steals my clothes. The killer who used my own gun better than I did. The omega who is going to drive me insane with cravings for the next six months.”
Mingi sniffled. “I want strawberries dipped in ranch.”
The alpha blinked once, then stared at him. “You are disgusting.”
“You said you loved all of me!”
That made Yunho laugh, and then he kissed him, smiling into the kiss. “Yeah. Unfortunately, I did say that.”
It happened on a random night six months later.
No warning. No countdown. No neat nesting phase like Wooyoung had teased him about over brunch. One minute Mingi was curled beside Yunho on the couch during movie night, soft and sleepy against his side, and the next he went completely still.
“Baby,” Mingi whispered, eyes widening. “I think my water just broke.”
Yunho sat up in shock. “What? Now?”
Mingi’s face had gone pale. One hand gripped the pillow so tightly his knuckles turned white, and then he doubled over with a quiet, pained gasp.
“Shit,” Yunho breathed, instantly in motion. “Okay. Okay, hospital. Now. You are going to be fine, baby, I have got you. I have got you.”
“Get the go bag!”
“What go bag?!”
“The one in the closet labeled BABY DOOM, you idiot!” Mingi shouted through the pain.
Yunho nearly slipped on the hardwood floor as he sprinted to get it.
By the time they reached the hospital, San and Wooyoung had already arrived too, carrying their three month old baby boy.
“Where is Mingi? Is he okay?” San immediately asked Jongho, who was pacing outside the delivery room.
“He is still inside,” Jongho answered. “They have been in there for a while.”
“Why was it so sudden?” Wooyoung asked, clearly worried as he adjusted the baby in his arms. “I thought he still had two more weeks.”
Inside the private omega birthing suite, Mingi lay on the bed with sweat shining across his forehead, his hands gripping the rails tightly while waves of pain moved through him in vicious pulses. The room smelled like medicine, hormones, and panic, but Yunho sat by his side like a steady anchor, one hand holding Mingi’s, the other brushing damp hair away from his face over and over again.
“You are doing so good,” Yunho murmured. “So, so good, baby.”
“I am going to kill you,” Mingi snarled through one of the contractions.
Yunho nodded. “I will allow it.”
Mingi sucked in a harsh breath, then cried out again as another wave hit him.
Yunho kissed his temple. “Almost there. You are strong, baby. Stronger than anyone.”
“You did this to me!” Mingi snapped.
“You wanted to be bred that night!”
“I was hormonal!”
“I still ask every single time.”
“You did not pull out!”
“Because you told me not to—”
“BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP,” the midwife snapped. “The baby is crowning!”
Yunho immediately straightened. “Wait, already?”
Mingi gritted his teeth, eyes wide with pain. “Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.”
Yunho cupped his cheek. “I am right here, baby. Just breathe. Breathe with me.”
Ten agonizing minutes later, a wail finally cut through the room.
Mingi fell back against the bed, chest heaving, tears streaming silently down his face as the nurse cleaned and swaddled the newborn. Then she turned with a soft smile and held the baby out.
“Congratulations, daddies. It is a boy.”
Yunho reached out first, hands shaking, then slowly helped lower the baby into Mingi’s arms.
He was so small. Tiny black tufts of hair. Soft peach-toned skin. A little face scrunched up in protest. His scent was sweet, like powdered sugar and lavender.
Mingi looked down at him like the whole world had just folded into his chest.
“Hi,” he whispered, voice breaking. “You came early.”
Yunho sat beside him, arm around his back, eyes glassy with emotion. “Just like his daddy. Could not wait to make an entrance.”
Mingi leaned into him, holding their son close with both arms. “What do we name him?” he asked softly.
Yunho blinked. “Did we not already pick one?”
“I have twenty name ideas,” Mingi murmured.
Yunho smiled faintly. “What about Minyun?”
Mingi tilted his head and gave him a teasing look. “Really? That is what you came up with?”
Yunho pouted a little. “Why? Is something wrong with Minyun? It is our names combined.”
Mingi laughed softly, because of course it was fine with him. He just wanted to tease his husband a little. Then he looked back down at their baby and something tender and aching spread through his chest all at once.
“Minyun it is.”
One month later, the penthouse was unusually quiet, filled only with the soft rustle of blankets and the occasional sleepy sound from the nursery.
Mingi was curled in bed wearing one of Yunho’s oversized hoodies, Minyun asleep on his chest, bundled against the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Yunho sat at the edge of the bed holding a warm mug of tea, his eyes moving between the two of them like he still could not quite believe they were real.
“You look good,” he said softly.
“I look like I have been hit by a truck.”
“You were,” Yunho said, smiling. “A tiny screaming truck. But the most beautiful one I have ever seen.”
Mingi smiled faintly.
Yunho set the mug on the nightstand and leaned down to kiss his cheek.
“You are everything, Mingi” he whispered. “Thank you for giving me everything.”
Mingi lifted a hand and cupped his jaw.
“No,” he whispered back. “We did this, Yunho. You saved me from myself. You gave me safety, love, and now...” He looked down at the sleeping baby in his arms. “Now we get to start over. On our own terms.”
Yunho leaned down and wrapped both of them into his arms, holding his husband and son like the most precious thing in the world.
No blood. No war. Just family.
And for the first time in a very long time, Mingi felt like he was finally home.