The mansion felt smaller after that dinner. Like the walls had ears and the chandeliers had teeth.
Kang-woo paced his separate bedroom at 3 a.m., still in the charcoal suit, tie hanging loose like a noose. The claiming bite on his neck throbbed every time he moved. Ji-woon's scent was everywhere—on his skin, in his lungs, under his goddamn fingernails. He hated how it calmed the leftover heat and made his body want to roll over and present like a well-trained Omega.
Focus, you idiot. Min-jae's the rat.
He'd seen the signs a hundred times on the streets: nervous eyes, too-quick laughs, money moving sideways. The offshore transfer, the press leaks, the way Min-jae's smile had cracked when Kang-woo called him out at the table. It all pointed to one thing—little brother wanted the throne and was willing to bleed the company dry to get it.
Yoon-ah had slipped him a flash drive before bed. "Security footage from the server room," she whispered. "Director Min-jae was in there alone last week. Late."
Kang-woo plugged it into Seung-ho's laptop and watched. Grainy, but clear enough. Min-jae at the terminal, typing fast, glancing over his shoulder like he expected a knife in the back. Then a transfer confirmation screen. Same Cayman account.
"Son of a bitch," Kang-woo muttered. "Trying to frame the merger as a failure so hyung looks weak. Classic backstab."
He closed the laptop and stared at the ceiling. Street rules were simple: you see a rat, you step on it before it bites. But here the rat wore designer suits and had the family name. One wrong move and Kang-woo would be the one getting buried.
Morning brought Ji-woon to his door without knocking.
The Alpha looked like he hadn't slept—hair messy, shirt open at the collar, eyes dark with something that wasn't just hunger anymore. He stepped inside, closed the door, and crowded Kang-woo against the wall before either of them spoke.
"You didn't come to my room last night," Ji-woon said quietly. His thumb brushed the bite mark through the collar again, pressing just hard enough to make Kang-woo's breath hitch.
"Didn't think I was invited after calling your brother a traitor at dinner."
Ji-woon's mouth curved. Not quite a smile. "You protected what's mine. That earns you more than an invitation." He leaned in, lips brushing Kang-woo's ear. "I've already started the internal audit. Quietly. If Min-jae's moving money, I'll find it. But I need you to stay close. No more solo heroics."
Kang-woo's hands came up, fisting in Ji-woon's shirt before he could stop them. "I'm not your guard dog."
"No," Ji-woon agreed, voice dropping. "You're my Omega. And right now the only person in this house I trust is the one who used to be a stranger."
The words hit harder than any knot. Kang-woo shoved him back half a step, but didn't let go. "Don't get soft on me, CEO. I'm still the guy who almost punched your brother in the balls."
Ji-woon's laugh was low and rough. "I know. That's why I like it."
They spent the day in Ji-woon's private office—door locked, guards outside. Kang-woo pointed out patterns only a debt collector would see: repeated small transfers that added up, deleted logs, a shell company linked to one of Min-jae's film production accounts. Ji-woon listened like every word was gold, hand resting on the back of Kang-woo's neck the whole time, thumb stroking the bite mark like a reminder.
By evening the trust felt real. Dangerous. The kind that made Kang-woo's chest tight in ways that had nothing to do with heat.
Then the phone call came.
Ji-woon answered on speaker. A shaky voice from the security team: "CEO-nim. There's been an incident. A car tried to run down Director Min-jae outside the main gate. He's fine, but… the driver got away. Black sedan. No plates."
Kang-woo's blood ran cold. He knew that car. Same one that peeled out after dinner last night.
Min-jae wasn't just the rat.
He was setting up a war.
Ji-woon ended the call and looked at Kang-woo, eyes flat and terrifying again. "Someone wants him scared. Or dead."
Kang-woo swallowed. "Or maybe someone wants you to think it's me."
Ji-woon pulled him close, one arm locking around his waist like steel. "They'd have to kill me first."
Outside the window, another black car idled in the driveway—windows tinted, engine running. Waiting.
Kang-woo stared at it and felt the old street instincts scream.
The cage was cracking open.
And whatever came through next wasn't going to knock politely.