Chapter Text
The rain fell hard enough to blur the world.
It turned the city lights into long, trembling lines of gold and red across the wet road. It swallowed footsteps, drowned out voices, and made the night feel endless. Cars moved slowly through the storm, their headlights cutting through the darkness like tired eyes.
Inside the back seat of a black luxury car, Jun Tangsakultham sat in silence.
He wore a black suit, perfectly tailored, the kind of suit that made him look less like a man and more like a warning. His dark brown hair was brushed back from his forehead, sharp features calm beneath the passing lights. His jaw carried the same severity as his father’s, his gaze the same cold focus that had made grown alphas lower their heads in respect.
To the world, Jun was the perfect businessman.
The only son of the Tangsakultham family.
Old money.
Elegant bloodline.
Boardrooms, private jets, charity galas, magazine covers, silent investments that moved markets before others even noticed.
But the world only saw what Jun allowed it to see.
Behind the glass towers and polite smiles, behind the perfectly written interviews about discipline and legacy, there was another name attached to Tangsakultham. A name whispered in dark rooms, in back alleys, in the mouths of men who feared death less than they feared Jun’s father.
The king of the underworld.
Jun had inherited more than wealth from him. He had inherited obedience, fear, and the kind of power that did not need to raise its voice.
His father’s scent was dark wood, heavy and ancient, like an old forest after rain. His mother’s scent was sharp dark florals, beautiful and dangerous, like black roses blooming over a blade. Both were alphas. Both were strict. Both had raised Jun like an heir, not a child.
And yet, in their own severe way, they had loved him.
They taught him control before comfort. Strategy before affection. Survival before softness.
Jun had learned well.
His own scent, wood and smoke, filled the quiet car faintly, restrained beneath expensive suppressants and discipline. It was a scent people remembered. Warm enough to pull someone closer, dangerous enough to make them hesitate.
Across from him, a tablet rested on his lap, displaying figures from a company he had just acquired. Beside him, his phone buzzed again.
**Thame**.
Jun glanced at the screen, then ignored it.
It buzzed again immediately.
**Pepper**.
Jun sighed.
His two closest friends were also alphas, and both were annoyingly persistent in different ways. Thame was sharp-mouthed, impatient, and always ready to turn any situation into entertainment. Pepper was quieter, colder, and far more observant. Together, they were the only people outside Jun’s family who dared to speak to him like he was human.
The phone buzzed a third time.
Jun finally picked it up.
“Speak,” he said.
Thame’s voice burst through the speaker. “You sound like you’re attending your own funeral.”
“I just left a meeting.”
“Exactly. Same thing.”
Jun looked out the window. Rain chased itself down the glass. “What do you want?”
“Pepper says you haven’t eaten.”
In the background, Pepper’s low voice said, “I said he probably forgot.”
“I didn’t forget,” Jun replied.
Thame snorted. “So you chose not to eat. That’s worse.”
Jun’s driver kept the car steady along the road. The city was quieter than usual because of the storm, but there were still people gathered beneath shop awnings, still motorbikes rushing through puddles, still drunk men stumbling out of bars with collars turned up against the rain.
Jun’s eyes moved over everything out of habit.
He noticed exits.
Corners.
Cars that followed too long.
Men who looked away too quickly.
That was how his father had trained him.
A Tangsakultham never relaxed in public.
“I’ll eat at home,” Jun said.
“You said that yesterday,” Thame replied.
“And the day before,” Pepper added.
Jun’s mouth barely moved, but there was almost amusement there. “Are you both my friends or my mothers?”
“Your mother scares me,” Thame said immediately. “So no.”
Pepper hummed. “Your mother scares everyone.”
That was true.
Madam Tangsakultham was one of the most beautiful women in high society. She wore pearls, silk, and a smile that could make politicians sweat. Her beauty was graceful, but her eyes were sharp. People often mistook her elegance for softness.
They only made that mistake once.
Jun was about to answer when the driver suddenly cursed under his breath.
The car lurched.
Tires screamed against the wet road.
Jun’s hand shot out, bracing himself against the seat as the car swerved violently. His phone slipped from his fingers and hit the floor. The scent of burning rubber filled the air for half a second before the car stopped so abruptly that silence crashed into the space after it.
Thame’s voice shouted from the phone. “Jun?”
Jun was already looking forward.
Through the rain-streaked windshield, a figure stood frozen in the road.
Small.
Soaked.
Barefoot.
An omega.
The headlights caught pale skin, trembling shoulders, grey ash hair plastered to a delicate face, and wide eyes that looked too terrified to belong to someone standing still.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then the omega collapsed.
“Jun!” Thame shouted again.
Jun opened the door before the driver could speak.
Rain struck him instantly, cold and heavy, soaking into his suit as he stepped out onto the road. His driver rushed after him with an umbrella, but Jun ignored it. His polished shoes splashed through shallow water as he approached the fallen omega.
The closer he got, the more he noticed.
A torn sleeve.
Bruises blooming along one wrist.
A split at the corner of soft lips.
A scent barely holding together beneath fear and rain—cherry blossoms and vanilla.
Sweet.
Fragile.
Almost heartbreakingly gentle.
And beneath it, sharp panic.
The omega tried to push himself up when Jun came near, but his arms shook. His knees slipped against the wet ground. He looked at Jun like he expected to be struck.
Jun stopped a few steps away.
He lowered his voice. “You’re hurt.”
The omega flinched at the sound.
Jun’s alpha stirred inside him.
Not with hunger.
With anger.
It was a quiet, cold thing at first. A tightening behind his ribs. A pressure at the back of his throat. His scent shifted despite the rain, smoke rising sharper through the wood.
The omega seemed to feel it. His eyes widened, and for one second Jun thought he might faint.
So Jun stepped back.
A deliberate step.
Then another.
“I won’t hurt you,” Jun said.
The omega stared at him, lips parted, breathing too fast. Rain ran down his cheeks until Jun could not tell whether he was crying.
Behind them, the driver stood tense beside the car. “Khun Jun, we should move. This road is—”
Jun lifted one hand.
The driver fell silent.
The omega swallowed. His fingers curled against the road, scraping the wet asphalt as if he was trying to force himself not to crawl away.
“Please,” he whispered.
Jun looked at him carefully. “What’s your name?”
The omega’s voice trembled so badly the answer nearly broke apart. “D-Dylan.”
“Dylan,” Jun repeated, grounding the name. “Can you stand?”
Dylan’s gaze darted past Jun, toward the dark street behind him. His whole body went rigid.
Jun did not need to turn yet to understand.
Someone was chasing him.
The driver shifted. Jun’s fingers flexed once at his side.
From far down the road, voices cut through the rain.
“There! He ran this way!”
“Catch him before he disappears!”
Dylan made a small, broken sound. He tried to stand again, failed, and then looked up at Jun with desperation so raw it pierced through years of Jun’s training.
“Help me,” Dylan begged. “Please, Alpha, help me.”
Jun’s eyes sharpened at the title, but he said nothing.
Dylan dragged himself closer on trembling knees. Before Jun could stop him, Dylan bowed his head low, palms pressing to the wet ground.
“I’ll surrender myself to you,” Dylan said, voice shaking. “If you help me, I’ll be yours. I’ll be your omega. You can do anything you want with me. I won’t refuse. I’ll give you my body. Just please don’t let him take me back.”
The rain seemed to grow louder.
Jun went still.
For most alphas, those words from a beautiful omega would have been temptation. For bad alphas, they would have been permission. For cruel ones, an opportunity.
Jun was many things.
A businessman.
A mafia heir.
A man with blood on his name even if not always on his hands.
But he was not the kind of alpha who took from someone begging out of fear.
His jaw tightened.
Slowly, Jun lowered himself into a crouch in front of Dylan, careful to keep enough space between them.
“Look at me,” Jun said.
Dylan hesitated.
“Dylan,” Jun repeated, quieter. “Look at me.”
The omega lifted his face.
Up close, he was even prettier than Jun had first realized. Not simply beautiful in the way high society praised omegas for being delicate, but painfully lovely, like something that had survived winter without knowing spring existed. His grey ash hair clung to his cheeks. His lashes were wet and dark. His skin was pale, almost luminous under the headlights.
But his beauty was not what held Jun.
It was his fear.
And the fact that he thought his body was the only price worth offering.
Jun removed his coat.
Dylan flinched again when Jun moved, but Jun only draped the coat around his shoulders. The fabric swallowed Dylan’s smaller frame, warm from Jun’s body and carrying his wood-smoke scent.
Dylan froze beneath it.
Jun’s voice was low. “You don’t need to give me your body to be protected.”
Dylan blinked.
“I said I’ll do anything,” Dylan whispered, confused, as if Jun had not understood the transaction. “I mean it. I’ll be obedient. I won’t cause trouble. I can be useful. I can—”
“No.”
The word was not loud.
It did not need to be.
Dylan stopped speaking.
Jun held his gaze. “I don’t accept bargains made in terror.”
Something in Dylan’s expression cracked.
Behind them, the voices grew closer. Jun finally stood and turned.
Three men appeared through the rain at the far side of the road. One was older, stumbling slightly, soaked shirt clinging to his thin frame. Even from a distance, Jun could smell alcohol under the storm. The other two were larger, rough-looking alphas with cheap coats and hungry eyes.
Dylan shrank behind Jun’s coat.
The older man pointed. “That’s him! That useless omega is mine!”
Jun’s driver moved quickly to Dylan’s side, blocking him with the umbrella now. Jun did not look back.
The men slowed when they saw Jun clearly.
Recognition did not hit all at once. It spread over their faces like sickness.
The suit.
The car.
The guards now stepping out from the second vehicle that had been following discreetly behind.
Then Jun’s face.
One of the alphas stopped dead.
“Jun Tangsakultham,” he breathed.
The drunk man, Dylan’s father, either did not hear or did not care. He staggered forward, face twisted with rage. “Give him back! That omega belongs to me!”
Jun’s expression did not change.
“Does he?” Jun asked.
Dylan’s father spat rainwater from his mouth. “He’s my son.”
The word made Dylan’s scent spike with fear.
Jun noticed.
His eyes turned colder.
“A son,” Jun said, “or merchandise?”
The two alphas behind Dylan’s father exchanged a look.
The drunk man sneered. “Omegas eat money. He owes me for keeping him alive. His mother died giving birth to him, and all I got was that useless thing. I can sell what is mine.”
The air changed.
Even the rain could not soften the sudden weight of Jun’s alpha presence.
The driver lowered his head instinctively. The guards behind Jun straightened. Across the road, the two alphas took a step back.
Jun’s scent unfurled through the storm.
Wood.
Smoke.
Dark and burning.
Dylan, still behind him, trembled—but not from Jun anymore. His eyes were fixed on the man who had raised him with fists instead of love.
Jun stepped forward once.
Dylan’s father stopped.
“You were going to sell him,” Jun said.
The man swallowed, his anger faltering beneath Jun’s stare. “I… I had a buyer. That’s none of your business.”
“It became my business when he ran in front of my car.”
“He’s an omega,” the man snapped, trying to recover his courage. “A pretty one. You understand, don’t you? An alpha like you—”
Jun moved so fast the man barely saw it.
One moment Jun stood several feet away.
The next, he had Dylan’s father by the collar, lifting him just enough that the man’s shoes slipped against the wet road.
Jun’s voice dropped.
“Do not tell me what kind of alpha I am.”
The two other alphas froze.
Dylan gasped softly.
For the first time, he saw it.
The dark side.
Not the businessman on magazine covers. Not the polite heir smiling beside ministers and CEOs.
This was the other Jun Tangsakultham.
The man who could make danger kneel.
Dylan’s father clawed at Jun’s wrist, drunk bravado vanishing into pure terror. “I didn’t know he was with you!”
“He wasn’t,” Jun said. “Now he is.”
The simplicity of those words made Dylan’s breath catch.
Now he is.
Not as property.
Not as a toy.
As someone under Jun’s protection.
Jun released the man with a shove. Dylan’s father stumbled backward and fell hard onto the road.
Jun looked at the two alphas. “Who bought him?”
Neither answered.
Jun’s gaze shifted to the one on the left.
The alpha immediately lowered his head. “Khun Jun, we didn’t know. We were just told to collect an omega.”
“Name.”
The alpha hesitated.
Jun smiled.
It was small and empty.
The alpha paled. “Suthat. His name is Suthat. He owns a club near the river.”
Jun’s driver looked over sharply, recognizing the name.
Jun did too.
A filthy little man with filthy little businesses. Nothing powerful enough to threaten the Tangsakultham family, but enough to hurt people who had no protection.
Jun looked back at Dylan’s father. “You will not go near Dylan again.”
The man’s face twisted. “He’s my son”.
“And yet you sold him.”
“I raised him!”
“You broke him.”
Silence cut through the rain.
Dylan’s father stared at Jun with hatred and fear, but fear won. It always did around men like Jun.
Jun turned slightly to one of his guards. “Take them.”
The guards moved at once.
The two alphas did not resist. Dylan’s father shouted, cursed, then begged when one guard dragged him up from the road.
Dylan flinched at every sound.
Jun turned back to him.
The anger inside him did not vanish, but he forced it down before approaching. Dylan was still on the ground beneath Jun’s coat, eyes too wide, lips trembling.
Jun crouched again.
“It’s over,” he said.
Dylan shook his head. “He’ll come back.”
“He won’t.”
“You don’t know him.”
Jun’s gaze darkened. “He doesn’t know me.”
Dylan stared at him.
For a moment, the only sound was rain hitting the umbrella above them.
Then Dylan’s body gave out.
Jun caught him before he hit the ground.
He was light.
Too light.
Jun felt the sharpness of shoulder blades beneath soaked fabric, the tremor running through exhausted muscles. Dylan’s scent rose around him—cherry blossoms crushed beneath rain, vanilla fading under fear.
Jun’s alpha instincts reacted fiercely.
Protect.
Warm.
Hide.
Keep.
Jun closed his eyes for half a second and controlled it.
Dylan was not his.
Not like that.
Not because he had begged.
Not because his body had collapsed into Jun’s arms.
Jun lifted him carefully. Dylan made a weak sound and curled unconsciously closer, fingers clutching at Jun’s shirt.
“Don’t take me back,” Dylan whispered.
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
Jun looked down at him.
Promises were dangerous things in his world. Men broke them every day. Families died because of them. Deals collapsed beneath them. His father had taught him to offer contracts, not promises.
But Dylan’s eyes were barely open, and he looked like one more lie would end him.
So Jun said, “I promise.”
Dylan’s fingers loosened.
His head fell against Jun’s chest.
Jun carried him to the car.
The driver opened the door quickly. Jun settled Dylan inside with care, then slid in beside him. The omega shivered under the coat, soaked clothes clinging to his skin.
“Hospital?” the driver asked.
Dylan’s eyes snapped open.
Panic flooded his scent. “No hospital. Please. My father knows people. Please, don’t—”
Jun turned to the driver. “Private physician. At the house.”
“Yes, Khun Jun.”
The door closed.
The car began moving again, smooth and silent despite the storm.
Dylan sat pressed against the far side of the seat, though Jun’s coat still wrapped around him. He looked as if he wanted to disappear into it.
Jun picked his phone up from the floor. Pepper and Thame were still on the line.
For once, neither was joking.
Thame spoke first, voice careful. “Jun. What happened?”
Jun looked at Dylan, who watched him like the answer might decide his fate.
“I found an omega,” Jun said.
Thame’s voice came low. “Trouble?”
Jun’s gaze shifted to the rain outside.
“Not for me.”
Thame exhaled. “For someone else, then.”
Jun ended the call.
Dylan’s hands tightened around the coat. “Are you… are you really Jun Tangsakultham?”
“Yes.”
Fear returned to his face, different this time. Not the frantic fear of being caught, but the stunned fear of realizing whose car he had fallen in front of.
“My father said your family…” Dylan stopped.
Jun’s eyes turned toward him. “What did he say?”
Dylan swallowed. “That people who cross Tangsakultham disappear.”
Jun did not deny it.
Dylan looked down quickly.
A bitter part of Jun thought he should say something gentle. Something reassuring. Something clean enough for a frightened omega. But Jun had never been good at pretending to be harmless.
So he gave Dylan the truth instead.
“People who hurt what my family protects disappear,” Jun said. “There’s a difference.”
Dylan’s lips parted.
The words settled between them.
What my family protects.
Dylan looked at his own hands. They were shaking. He tried to hide them beneath the coat, but Jun had already seen.
“Why?” Dylan asked.
Jun watched him. “Why what?”
“Why help me?”
“Because you asked.”
Dylan gave a small, humorless laugh. It sounded like it hurt. “People don’t help just because someone asks.”
“No,” Jun said. “They don’t.”
“Then why?”
Jun did not answer immediately.
Because you were afraid.
Because someone tried to sell you.
Because you looked at me like being owned was better than going home.
Because your scent made something in me ache.
Because when you offered yourself, I wanted to kill whoever taught you that was necessary.
Instead, Jun said, “Because I can.”
Dylan looked at him for a long time.
Then he whispered, “What do you want from me?”
Jun leaned back slightly, giving him space. “Nothing tonight.”
Dylan’s brows pulled together, confused again. “But I said I would be yours.”
“You were scared.”
“I meant it.”
“You meant survival.”
The words hit Dylan harder than Jun expected. His eyes filled suddenly, but he turned his face toward the window before the tears could fall.
Jun pretended not to see.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
The car moved out of the city center and into roads lined with older trees and guarded estates. This was where money stopped needing to prove itself. The houses were hidden behind walls, gates, and long driveways, their owners powerful enough to value privacy over display.
Dylan watched through the window, exhaustion slowly overtaking fear.
Jun watched him from the corner of his eye.
The omega could not have been more than in his early twenties. Too young to look that tired. Too pretty to have learned to flinch so quickly. His grey ash hair was unusual, making his pale face appear softer, almost unreal beneath the shifting shadows.
Jun had seen beautiful people before.
Models.
Actors.
High-born omegas presented at galas like jewels in silk.
None of them had made him feel this sudden, irrational pull.
It irritated him.
Jun did not believe in love at first sight.
Desire, yes.
Interest, certainly.
Possession, for men weaker than him.
But love?
Love was not something a man like Jun trusted. Love made kings careless. Love gave enemies a target. His father loved his mother so fiercely that entire rooms went silent when she entered, not because she demanded it, but because everyone knew the consequences of disrespect.
Jun had always considered that dangerous.
Now he looked at Dylan Zhou, shaking beneath his coat, and understood danger differently.
The car turned through tall iron gates.
Dylan straightened in alarm.
Guards bowed as the vehicle entered the Tangsakultham estate. The mansion rose beyond the rain like something carved from shadow and old wealth, all dark stone, warm windows, and wide steps. Ancient trees lined the driveway, their branches moving slowly in the storm.
Dylan stared.
Jun could almost feel his disbelief.
The car stopped beneath the front awning. Servants were already waiting with umbrellas, alerted by the driver. The massive front doors opened before Jun stepped out.
Dylan did not move.
Jun stood outside the car and looked in at him. “Can you walk?”
Dylan nodded too quickly.
Then he tried.
His legs failed the moment his feet touched the ground.
Jun caught him again.
Dylan flushed deeply, humiliation crossing his face. “I’m sorry. I can walk. I’m not trying to—”
“Stop apologizing.”
Dylan closed his mouth.
Jun lifted him once more.
The servants stared for only a fraction of a second before lowering their eyes. They were trained well. No one whispered. No one questioned why their young master had returned in the rain carrying a soaked omega in his arms.
Inside, the mansion smelled of polished wood, old books, fresh flowers, and the lingering power of alphas who owned every inch of the place.
Dylan’s scent changed the moment they entered.
Cherry blossoms and vanilla, faint but unmistakable, drifted through the grand foyer.
From the top of the staircase, a woman’s voice said, “Jun.”
Jun stopped.
Dylan stiffened in his arms.
Madam Araya Tangsakultham stood at the landing in a deep silk robe, black hair falling over one shoulder. She was beautiful in a way that made the word feel insufficient. Her features were sharp and elegant, her eyes dark, her presence smooth as a blade leaving its sheath.
Her scent drifted down faintly.
Dark florals.
Sharp.
Commanding.
Behind her, Jun’s father appeared.
Krit Tangsakultham was tall, broad-shouldered, and severe, his face all sharp lines and controlled violence. His dark wood scent carried through the hall like the weight of an ancient forest. Even dressed casually, he looked like a man others obeyed because instinct told them to.
Dylan went utterly still.
Jun felt it immediately.
Fear.
Not of them personally, perhaps, but of alphas. Of power. Of parents. Of houses where he did not know the rules.
Jun’s hold tightened just enough to reassure.
His mother descended first, eyes moving from Jun’s soaked suit to the omega in his arms.
“What happened?” she asked.
Jun met her gaze. “He needs a doctor.”
His father’s eyes sharpened. “Who hurt him?”
Dylan trembled.
Jun looked down at him. “You don’t have to answer.”
That seemed to surprise him.
Madam Araya reached the bottom of the stairs, but she did not come too close. Like Jun, she understood fear when she saw it.
“What is your name, sweetheart?” she asked, her voice softer than her face.
Dylan blinked.
No one had called him sweetheart like that before.
“D-Dylan,” he whispered. “Dylan.”
Madam Araya’s expression changed.
Only slightly.
But Jun saw it.
His mother had always loved beautiful things. Flowers, art, silk, music. But this was not admiration in her eyes. It was something more protective. Something almost wounded.
“Dylan,” she repeated gently. “You’re safe here.”
Dylan’s eyes filled again.
Jun’s father looked at the driver, who had entered behind them. The driver gave a quick, quiet explanation. With every word, Krit Tangsakultham’s face grew colder.
When the driver mentioned the attempted sale, the temperature in the foyer seemed to drop.
Krit’s scent darkened.
Dylan whimpered before he could stop himself.
Jun turned slightly, shielding him from the force of his father’s alpha presence. “Father.”
Krit’s gaze flicked to Dylan, then to Jun.
Immediately, he pulled his scent back.
It was not an apology. Men like Krit Tangsakultham did not apologize easily.
But it was consideration.
For Dylan.
Madam Araya noticed too. She looked at her husband with approval, then turned to a maid. “Prepare the east guest room. Warm bath, clean clothes, soft food. Call Doctor Anan and tell him to come through the private entrance.”
“Yes, Madam.”
Dylan looked between them in confusion, as if waiting for the trap.
Jun’s mother stepped closer, slow enough not to startle him. “Dylan, no one here will touch you without permission. Do you understand?”
Dylan did not answer.
His throat moved.
Jun could feel his heartbeat where Dylan rested against his chest. Too fast.
Madam Araya’s gaze softened further. “You poor thing.”
Dylan broke at that.
It was quiet.
Not dramatic.
Just one small breath that failed, then another. Tears slipped down his already wet cheeks. He turned his face into Jun’s chest as if ashamed of crying in front of strangers.
Jun looked down at him, stunned by the sudden tightness in his own chest.
He had seen men beg for their lives and felt nothing.
This omega cried silently against him, and Jun wanted to tear the world apart.
His father noticed.
Krit’s eyes moved from Dylan to Jun, and something unreadable passed through his face.
“Take him upstairs,” Krit said.
Jun nodded.
As he carried Dylan up the staircase, Madam Araya walked beside them, issuing quiet instructions. Fresh towels. Warm milk with honey. No strong scents in the room. Remove all alpha staff from the hallway until the doctor was finished.
Dylan heard everything.
His fingers clutched Jun’s shirt again.
At the guest room, Jun placed him carefully on the edge of the bed. The room was large but warm, decorated in soft creams and dark wood, with rain tapping against tall windows. A fireplace had already been lit.
Dylan sat rigidly, Jun’s coat still around him.
Jun crouched in front of him one more time.
“The doctor will check your injuries,” Jun said. “You can refuse anything.”
Dylan stared. “Refuse?”
“Yes.”
“But…”
Jun waited.
Dylan lowered his eyes. “Omegas don’t usually get to refuse.”
Jun’s face hardened.
“They do here.”
For a long moment, Dylan said nothing.
Then, very quietly, he asked, “Are you going to send me away after?”
Jun’s mother, standing near the doorway, looked at Jun.
Jun did not look away from Dylan.
“No.”
Dylan’s breath shook. “Then what happens to me?”
Jun should have given a practical answer.
Rest.
Doctor.
Legal protection.
A discussion tomorrow.
Instead, he found himself saying, “You sleep. You eat. You heal. The rest can wait.”
Dylan looked as if no one had ever allowed his future to wait before.
A maid entered with towels and clothes, keeping her head lowered. Madam Araya took them herself and placed them on the bed, perhaps sensing Dylan would not want too many strangers near.
Then she touched Jun’s shoulder.
A silent command.
Give him space.
Jun stood.
Dylan’s hand shot out and caught his sleeve.
Everyone paused.
Dylan realized what he had done and immediately tried to let go. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
Jun covered Dylan’s hand with his own before he could pull away.
Dylan froze.
Jun’s hand was warm. Large. Steady. He did not grip. He only held enough for Dylan to know he was there.
“I’ll be outside,” Jun said.
Dylan swallowed. “Outside?”
“By the door.”
“Why?”
“Because you asked me not to take you back,” Jun said. “That means I don’t leave you alone until you feel safe.”
Dylan looked up at him, eyes shining.
Something passed between them then.
Not trust.
Not yet.
But the smallest beginning of it.
Like the first pale line of dawn after a night that had lasted too long.
Dylan slowly released his sleeve.
Jun stepped out with his parents, closing the door halfway behind him.
In the hallway, the softness disappeared from his face.
Krit looked at his son. “Name.”
“Suthat,” Jun said. “A club owner near the river. Dylan’s father tried to sell him.”
Madam Araya’s scent sharpened dangerously. “His own child.”
Jun’s jaw flexed.
Krit’s expression remained calm, which meant he was furious. “And the father?”
“With our men.”
“Good.”
Madam Araya looked toward the half-closed bedroom door. “That omega is terrified.”
“He offered himself to me in exchange for protection,” Jun said quietly.
His mother’s face chilled.
His father’s eyes became almost black.
For a moment, none of them spoke.
Then Krit said, “Someone taught him that was all he was worth.”
Jun looked at the door.
Inside, water ran faintly in the private bathroom. Dylan was alive. Safe, for now. But Jun knew fear did not vanish just because doors were locked against monsters.
Some monsters lived under the skin.
Some spoke with a father’s voice.
Madam Araya studied Jun carefully. “What are you going to do?”
Jun’s answer came too quickly to be casual.
“Protect him.”
His mother’s mouth softened.
His father watched him longer.
“You saw him once,” Krit said.
Jun did not deny it.
“Be careful,” his father continued. “A frightened omega can awaken every reckless instinct in an alpha. Pity can feel like love when blood is hot.”
Jun met his father’s gaze.
“It isn’t pity.”
Madam Araya’s brows lifted slightly.
Krit’s stare sharpened. “Then what is it?”
Jun did not answer.
Because he did not know.
Not fully.
All he knew was that somewhere between headlights and rain, between Dylan’s trembling offer and the bruises on his wrist, something inside Jun had shifted out of place.
And he did not want to put it back.
The doctor arrived twenty minutes later.
Jun stayed by the door as promised.
He heard quiet voices, Dylan’s hesitant replies, his mother’s gentle reassurance. The doctor confirmed exhaustion, bruising, mild dehydration, and signs of long-term stress. Nothing life-threatening. Nothing that time and care could not begin to heal.
Begin.
That word mattered.
When the doctor left, Madam Araya stepped out and closed the door softly behind her.
“He’s asleep,” she said.
Jun looked at the door.
His mother touched his arm. “He asked whether you were still outside before he allowed himself to sleep.”
Jun’s throat tightened.
Krit, standing near the window at the end of the hall, looked out at the rain. “Then stay.”
Jun glanced at his father.
Krit did not turn. “You gave your word.”
Jun sat in the chair beside Dylan’s door.
The mansion quieted around him.
Servants withdrew. Guards changed shifts. Somewhere downstairs, his father began making calls in the voice that made men disappear from power. His mother personally instructed the kitchen to prepare breakfast suitable for a weak omega.
Jun remained outside the guest room.
Hours passed.
The rain softened.
His phone buzzed again sometime after midnight.
Thame: **Are you alive?**
Pepper: **Is the omega safe?**
Jun typed back only one word.
**Yes.**
Thame replied immediately.
**That doesn’t answer which question.**
Jun ignored him.
Through the narrow opening of the door, he could see part of the bed. Dylan slept curled beneath blankets that likely cost more than everything he had owned. His grey ash hair spilled across the pillow. Without fear twisting his face, he looked impossibly young. Still tired. Still bruised. But peaceful enough that Jun felt something in his chest loosen.
Then Dylan stirred.
His breathing changed first.
Fast.
Uneven.
His fingers clenched in the blanket.
“No,” he whispered in his sleep. “Please, no.”
Jun was on his feet immediately.
He entered the room but stopped beside the bed, careful not to touch him too quickly.
“Dylan.”
The omega twisted, trapped in a dream. “I’m sorry. I’ll be good. Don’t sell me. Please, I’ll be good.”
Jun’s control fractured.
Not outwardly.
But inside, something burned.
“Dylan,” he said again, firmer.
Dylan woke with a gasp.
For one terrifying second, he looked at Jun and did not recognize him. He scrambled backward until his back hit the headboard, eyes wild, scent bursting into sharp panic.
Jun stepped back at once.
“It’s me,” he said. “Jun.”
Dylan’s breathing shook.
Recognition returned slowly.
Then shame followed.
“I’m sorry,” Dylan whispered.
Jun’s voice was rougher than before. “Don’t apologize for being afraid.”
Dylan gripped the blanket. “You stayed.”
“I said I would.”
“You really stayed.”
“Yes.”
Dylan looked down at himself, at the clean soft sleepwear someone had given him, at the bandage around his wrist, at the blanket tucked carefully over his body.
Then he looked at Jun.
The question was there again.
Why?
Jun saw it, and this time he answered before Dylan could ask.
“No one will sell you,” he said. “No one will drag you back. No one will touch you here unless you choose it.”
Dylan’s lower lip trembled.
“And I won’t claim you because you’re desperate,” Jun added.
Something like hurt flashed across Dylan’s face.
Jun noticed immediately. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want you safe.”
Dylan’s voice was tiny. “But you don’t want me.”
Jun went still.
There it was.
The wound beneath all the others.
Dylan did not simply fear being used.
He expected it.
And if Jun refused to use him, Dylan thought it meant rejection.
Jun approached slowly, stopping beside the bed. He lowered himself into the chair there, so Dylan would not have to look up at him.
“You are exhausted,” Jun said. “You are hurt. You are scared. Anything I say tonight, you may not believe.”
Dylan watched him.
“But listen carefully anyway,” Jun continued. “Your worth is not your body. Your safety is not something you have to buy from me. And if one day I want you, Dylan, it will not be because you surrendered.”
Dylan forgot to breathe.
Jun’s eyes held his.
“It will be because you chose me.”
The room went quiet.
Outside, the storm finally began to fade.
Dylan looked at Jun as if he had spoken in a language Dylan had once known as a child but forgotten after years of cruelty.
Choice.
It sounded impossible.
It sounded beautiful.
And it terrified him more than chains, because chains were familiar.
Jun stood. “Sleep. I’ll be outside.”
Dylan’s hand moved before his courage could fail.
“Can…” He stopped, cheeks flushing. “Can you leave the door open?”
Jun looked at him.
Dylan lowered his eyes. “Just a little.”
Jun nodded. “Yes.”
He walked to the door and left it open wider than before.
Before stepping out, he heard Dylan’s quiet voice.
“Khun Jun?”
He turned.
“Don't call me Khun, just call me Jun enough.”
Dylan held the blanket close to his chest. In the soft firelight, his eyes looked silver.
“Then J-Jun....”
Dylan look at him with soft eyes.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Jun’s expression softened by the smallest degree.
“You’re welcome, Dylan.”
He returned to the hallway and sat down again.
Inside the room, Dylan eventually fell asleep.
This time, he did not wake crying.
Jun remained there until dawn painted the windows pale grey.
By morning, the entire Tangsakultham household would know that Jun had brought home an omega.
By noon, Jun’s men would find Suthat.
By night, Dylan’s father would understand that some debts could not be paid with money, and some sins could not be washed away by begging.
But for now, there was only a quiet hallway, an open door, and the faint sweetness of cherry blossoms and vanilla mixing with wood and smoke.
Jun leaned back in the chair, eyes fixed on the room where Dylan slept.
He had saved people before.
Employees.
Allies.
Assets.
People useful to the family.
But this felt different.
Dylan was not useful to him.
He was not part of a deal.
He was not a pawn.
He was simply an omega who had run through the rain because dying on the road seemed better than being sold.
And somehow, impossibly, he had run straight into Jun’s life.
Jun closed his eyes briefly.
For the first time in years, he did not think about business.
He did not think about bloodlines, inheritance, enemies, or the heavy shadow of his father’s throne.
He thought about grey ash hair.
Trembling hands.
Cherry blossoms in the rain.
And the way Dylan had looked at him when Jun said the word choose.
Jun opened his eyes again.
The old world he belonged to had taught him how to own.
How to conquer.
How to take.
But as dawn rose over the Tangsakultham estate, Jun understood one thing with absolute certainty.
If he ever had Dylan, it would not be because the omega had nowhere else to go.
It would be because Dylan wanted to stay.
And Jun, who had never begged for anything in his life, suddenly knew he would wait as long as it took for that day to come.