A fresh bond was made …
Kang-woo stood in the wrecked hall, Ji-woon's fresh bite burning on his neck like a brand that would never fade. The baby kicked hard against his palm, strong and alive, as if it already knew the war was over.
Ji-woon didn't speak. He just pulled Kang-woo against his chest, blood still leaking from his own side, and kissed him like the world could end tomorrow and it wouldn't matter. Deep, filthy, claiming. Teeth and tongue and the new bond snapping tighter between them.
"You're staying," Ji-woon said against his mouth. "Both of you."
Kang-woo laughed, raw and ugly and real. "Took you long enough to figure that out, you possessive bastard."
The last of Moon's crew was dragged out in cuffs. The marble was already being mopped by silent staff who knew better than to stare. Min-jae's lawyers had scattered like rats the second the board vote flipped for good. The empire was Ji-woon's again—clean, unbroken, his.
Kang-woo pressed his forehead to Ji-woon's. "I'm Choi Kang-woo. Mad Dog. Street rat. Debt collector. And I'm keeping this kid. Keeping this life. Keeping you. No more running. No more pretending I don't want it."
Ji-woon's hand spread wide over the small bump. "Mine."
"Yours," Kang-woo answered, biting the word into Ji-woon's lower lip. "All of it."
They stayed like that until the sun came up—blood on the floor, bodies gone, bond burning between them like a second heartbeat.
Two years later the nursery was full of toys that cost more than cars.
Kang-woo stood on the balcony in a black suit, tie loose, one hand on the railing and the other holding a two-year-old girl with Ji-woon's eyes and his own filthy mouth. She was currently trying to climb him like a tree while yelling "Appa, up!"
Ji-woon stepped out behind them, suit perfect, arms sliding around Kang-woo's waist from behind. He pressed a kiss to the permanent bond mark on his neck.
"You still curse in front of her," he murmured.
"She learned it from you," Kang-woo shot back, grinning. "Little shit's got my temper and your money. We're fucked."
The baby—Soo-ah—laughed and grabbed a fistful of Kang-woo's hair.
Ji-woon's hand slipped lower, resting over the new, smaller bump under Kang-woo's shirt. "Second one's coming. You ready?"
Kang-woo leaned back into him, crude mouth curving into something soft and dangerous.
"Born ready, CEO. I survived the river, the crew, your psychotic family, and your knot. One more kid's nothing."
He turned, kissed Ji-woon hard and filthy right there on the balcony where the whole city could see, then looked down at the tiny girl trying to eat his tie.
"Welcome to the family, kid," he muttered. "It's rich, it's crazy, and it's ours."
Ji-woon's arms tightened around both of them.
And for the first time in two lives, Choi Kang-woo—Mad Dog, street rat, Omega—felt exactly where he belonged.
Right here.
In the golden cage he'd earned with blood, bullets, and the best knot of his life.