Moon Ho-cheol didn't wait for midnight.
He came at dusk with six of his best guys, all black hoodies and cheap tattoos, sliding through the mansion's service gate like rats through a hole in the wall. Kang-woo felt it before he saw it—the sudden shift in the air, the way the guards outside the study went quiet.
He was halfway through buttoning his shirt when the first gunshot cracked from the lower floor.
Ji-woon's head snapped up from the desk. "Stay here."
"Like hell." Kang-woo grabbed the letter opener off the desk—sharp enough—and followed him into the hallway.
The mansion had turned into a war zone. Guards down. Blood on the marble. Moon's crew moved like they'd done this a hundred times, which they had. One of them spotted Kang-woo and grinned with missing teeth.
"Mad Dog! Boss said you'd be wearing a dress by now!"
Kang-woo didn't answer with words. He answered with the letter opener straight into the guy's shoulder, then a knee to the face that dropped him like a sack of shit. The soft body slowed him down, but the rage made up for it.
Ji-woon fought like an Alpha who owned the world—efficient, brutal, no wasted moves. He took down two men with his bare hands, blood splattering his white shirt, eyes black with fury. When the last thug lunged at Kang-woo with a knife, Ji-woon caught the blade in his palm, twisted, and snapped the guy's arm like dry wood.
Moon Ho-cheol stepped out from behind a pillar at the end of the hall, gun raised, cigarette still burning between his lips.
"Nice place you got here, CEO," he called. "Real fancy cage for my dog. But dogs belong on leashes, not diamond rings."
Ji-woon shoved Kang-woo behind him. "Leave. Now. Or I bury every single one of you in the Han River."
Moon laughed. "You still don't know, do you? That pretty thing behind you isn't your wife. It's Choi Kang-woo. My best collector. The one who used to piss in my flower pots and collect debts with a smile. He drowned saving some rich kid and woke up in this body. Ask him. He'll tell you."
Ji-woon went still.
Kang-woo stepped out from behind him, chest heaving. "It's true. All of it. I'm not Han Seung-ho. I'm the bastard who used to break knees for this piece of shit. I tried to tell you. I tried—"
Moon cut him off. "And now he's yours, CEO. But he still owes me. Ten million or I leak everything—DNA, hospital footage, the works. Your perfect Omega hero is just a street rat in a stolen skin."
The silence stretched so long Kang-woo could hear his own heartbeat.
Then Ji-woon turned, looked straight at him, and said the words that broke something inside Kang-woo's chest.
"I don't care who you were."
His voice was low, rough, final. "Choi Kang-woo. Mad Dog. Debt collector. Whatever the fuck you call yourself. You're my Omega now. Mine. And no one takes what's mine."
Moon's smile faltered.
Ji-woon moved faster than Kang-woo had ever seen. He crossed the hallway in two strides, slammed Moon against the wall, and pressed the barrel of the thug's own dropped gun under his chin.
"Get the fuck out of my house," Ji-woon said, voice like ice over steel. "Take your men. And if you ever come near him again, I won't call the police. I'll call the people who make bodies disappear. Permanently."
Moon stared into those eyes and saw the truth. He nodded once, slow.
Security finally poured in from the stairs. Moon and his crew were dragged out bleeding and cursing. The mansion doors slammed shut behind them.
Ji-woon turned back to Kang-woo, blood on his hands, eyes still burning. He didn't speak. He just grabbed him by the collar, dragged him into the nearest empty guest room, and kicked the door shut.
Clothes came off in seconds—ripped, not unbuttoned. Ji-woon shoved Kang-woo face-down onto the bed, spread his thighs, and pushed inside in one hard thrust, no prep, no mercy. Kang-woo moaned like a whore, slick already flooding, body opening for him like it was made for this.
"Mine," Ji-woon growled against his neck, biting down on the old claiming mark until it bled fresh. "Say it."
"Yours—fuck—yours, you crazy possessive bastard—"
Ji-woon fucked him like he was trying to erase every memory of the streets, every debt, every scar that wasn't there anymore. Deep, brutal, knot swelling fast. When it locked inside, Kang-woo came so hard he saw white, hole clenching around the massive swell while Ji-woon flooded him, marking him from the inside out.
They stayed locked together for hours. Ji-woon didn't pull out even when the knot went down. He just rolled them sideways, still buried deep, arms wrapped around Kang-woo like iron bands.
"Never again," he whispered against the fresh bite. "No more running. No more secrets. You're staying right here. In this bed. In this life. With me."
Kang-woo closed his eyes, body wrecked and claimed and terrifyingly happy.
But somewhere outside the mansion, Moon Ho-cheol was already making calls.
The war wasn't over.
It had just gone underground.