The mansion smelled like gunpowder and sex for three straight days.
Ji-woon didn't let Kang-woo out of the bedroom except to eat. He fucked him slow and filthy in the mornings, hard and desperate at night, knot locked deep like he could brand the truth into his bones. Every time Kang-woo tried to talk about Moon Ho-cheol or the crew or the ten million, Ji-woon just shoved his face into the pillow and fucked the words right out of him until the only thing left was broken moans and "yours, fuck, yours."
But the past doesn't stay quiet when you tell it to fuck off.
On the fourth morning Kang-woo woke up alone, body sore in the best way, fresh bite marks blooming across his chest like ownership stamps. His phone was ringing on the nightstand. Unknown number. Again.
He answered before he could stop himself.
Moon Ho-cheol's voice slid through like oil. "Mad Dog. You think hiding behind your Alpha's dick makes you safe? I've got twenty guys outside the gate right now. Real ones. The kind who don't give a shit about chaebol money. Open the door or I start shooting guards until your pretty husband comes out to play."
Kang-woo sat up fast. "You're bluffing."
"Check the security feed."
He opened the laptop on the bedside table. The front gate camera showed exactly what Moon promised—black vans, armed men in hoods, one of them holding a rifle like it was a lunchbox. Tae-sik stood at the front waving at the camera with a shit-eating grin.
Ji-woon walked in right then, fresh from the shower, towel around his waist, water still dripping down the grooves of his abs. He took one look at Kang-woo's face and the laptop screen and his expression went flat and murderous.
"They're here," Kang-woo said. Voice steady even though his hands weren't. "For me. Not you."
Ji-woon dropped the towel, pulled on pants and a black shirt so fast it was almost violent. "Stay in this room."
"Like hell I will." Kang-woo yanked on the nearest clothes—Ji-woon's shirt, too big, sleeves falling over his hands. "This is my mess. My old life. I handle it."
Ji-woon grabbed his chin, forced his face up. "Your life is here now. With me. End of story."
They went down together anyway.
The front hall looked like a standoff in a gangster movie. Guards on one side, Moon's crew on the other, guns half-drawn. Moon Ho-cheol stood in the middle like he owned the marble floor.
"Well, well," he said, eyes raking over Kang-woo in Ji-woon's oversized shirt. "Look at you. Smells like fresh Alpha come from here. You really let him knot you raw, huh? My tough little debt collector bending over for rich dick."
Ji-woon stepped forward, body coiled like a spring. "Last warning. Leave my property."
"Your property?" Moon laughed. "That's my dog wearing your wife's face. DNA don't lie. I've got the hospital files. I've got witnesses. One call and the whole country knows their precious Omega hero is a street rat who used to collect fingers for fun. Hand him over and I walk. Keep him and I burn your empire to the ground."
Kang-woo felt the old rage boil up. He pushed past Ji-woon before anyone could stop him, grabbed the nearest guard's baton, and cracked it across Tae-sik's knee so hard the man screamed and dropped.
"You want me?" Kang-woo snarled, voice still soft and pretty but the words pure gutter. "Come and take me, you piece of shit. But touch my husband again and I'll carve my name into your skull the old way."
Moon raised his gun.
Ji-woon moved faster than thought. He slammed into Kang-woo, shielding him with his own body, and the shot went wide. Chaos exploded—guards rushing, fists flying, another gunshot shattering a chandelier.
In the middle of the mess Ji-woon hauled Kang-woo up by the collar, eyes wild and dark and completely gone.
"I don't care who you were," he growled right against Kang-woo's mouth, blood on his lip from a stray punch. "You're my Omega now. Mine. And I'll kill every last one of them to keep you."
He kissed him hard, right there in the middle of the gunfire and screaming, like the world could burn and it wouldn't matter.
Kang-woo kissed him back just as vicious, tasting blood and possession and something that felt terrifyingly like home.
Outside, more vans were pulling up.
Moon Ho-cheol wasn't leaving empty-handed.
And the war had just walked through the front door wearing smiles and guns.