Ash
The rain hadn't stopped. It followed him through the city like punishment, soaking into his clothes, into his bones. Ash ducked into a half-abandoned safehouse, the knife still warm in his grip, Elias's words echoing in his head.
You need to disappear before he finds you again.
Disappear. Run.
That's what Omegas were supposed to do, wasn't it? Hide. Survive. Wait for someone stronger to choose their chains.
But Ash wasn't built to run. His body still burned where Damian's teeth had grazed him days ago, a phantom ache he couldn't scrub away. He hated it. Hated how the memory made his pulse race and his instincts twist like wires inside his chest.
And now a detective had seen him. Looked at him like a person, not a pawn. It should have been easier. It only made the knot tighter.
---
Damian
"Find him."
Damian's voice cut through the room like a blade, low and sharp enough to silence the dozen men seated around the polished mahogany table. The penthouse meeting was supposed to be about Vargas—territory disputes, new shipments, the war tightening on all sides.
But Damian wasn't listening. His focus was on the report laid out before him.
An Omega, spotted in East End. With a detective.
Damian's fingers curled against the armrest of his chair until the leather groaned. Elias Ward. A Beta detective with a reputation for getting too close to things that didn't belong to him.
Damian's lips curved into something cold. "The detective thinks he's hunting me." A pause. A dangerous smile. "But what he's really done… is touch what's mine."
The men shifted uneasily, but no one dared speak. They all knew: Blackwell didn't share. Not power. Not secrets. Not Omegas.
---
Elias
Back at the precinct, Elias lit his third cigarette in under an hour, the smoke curling through the dim light of his office. His hand hovered over the phone. He should call it in—report the Omega sighting, let the system swallow him whole.
But something stopped him.
He saw again the boy in the rain, knife trembling in his hand, eyes full of scars he hadn't earned yet. Too young. Too dangerous. Too alone.
And he thought of Blackwell, the shadow of him that stretched across every street in the city. The man didn't leave survivors. If he'd spared this Omega… it wasn't mercy. It was possession.
Elias dragged a hand down his face. For the first time in his career, he wasn't sure if turning someone in would save them—or kill them faster.
---
Damian
At the far edge of the city, Damian stood at his window, whiskey in hand, the skyline flickering with lightning. He didn't care about Vargas tonight.
No, tonight was about something else. Someone else.
"You can run," he murmured, almost tender, voice threading through the glass and storm. "You can even let the detective play hero."
He smiled, sharp and hungry.
"But you'll come back to me, little Omega. One way or another."
---