The apartment felt too small.
The walls were thin.
The air felt close.
The silence felt loud.
Serin sat on the edge of his bed, his jacket still on, his bag still hanging from one shoulder like he might need to run again.
His body hadn't calmed.
Not fully.
His omega instincts stayed alert — tight, coiled, listening.
He stood and went to the sink, splashing cold water on his face.
His reflection stared back at him.
Pale.
Sharp eyes.
Tired mouth.
Tension in his jaw.
Not weak.
Just controlled.
He touched his neck again.
His glands were still sensitive — warm, reactive, aching under the skin.
Not heat.
Not arousal.
Instinct response.
Predator awareness.
Claim pressure.
His phone vibrated on the table.
He froze.
Then looked.
Mira:
You good? You didn't come in today.
Mira Chen.
His coworker.
Beta.
Mid-twenties.
Too kind for this city.
Too trusting.
Too normal.
Serin typed back slowly:
Serin:
Not feeling well. Tomorrow maybe.
Three dots appeared.
Mira:
You okay? You look pale lately.
He didn't reply.
Because how do you explain fear that has no face?
Across the street
The black car was still there.
Not obvious.
Not suspicious.
Just parked.
Inside it:
Kael Virex
Rowan Hale – Head of Security
Eli Ward – Data analyst / surveillance lead
Rowan leaned back in his seat, arms crossed.
"He's not registered. Nothing in the system."
Eli scrolled on his tablet.
"No medical ID. No scent ID. No heat records. No bonding history. No omega classification."
Pause.
"He exists legally as a beta. But it's fake. High quality fake."
Kael didn't react.
His eyes stayed on the building.
"Suppressant network?" he asked calmly.
Eli nodded.
"Black market distribution. Small-scale. Quiet supply chain. Medical-grade, not street quality. Someone's protecting the pipeline."
Rowan frowned.
"That means organization."
"That means money," Eli added.
"And that means he's valuable."
Kael's jaw tightened slightly.
Not anger.
Possession.
"He's not a product," Kael said quietly.
The car went silent.
Rowan looked at him.
"Then what is he?"
Kael didn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
He only knew what his body said.
Mine.
Not sexually.
Not romantically.
Not emotionally.
Instinctually.
Territorially.
Biologically.
Possessively.
Back inside
Serin changed clothes slowly.
Every movement felt loud.
He locked the windows.
Checked the door.
Checked the lock again.
Then sat on the bed.
His body felt heavy.
Not tired.
Weighted.
Like something external had settled over him.
He could still feel it.
That invisible pressure.
Not physical touch — but presence.
Awareness.
Attention.
It made his skin feel too sensitive.
His breath shallow.
His pulse loud in his ears.
He lay back and stared at the ceiling.
Memories surfaced without permission.
White rooms.
Metal tables.
Chemical smells.
Cold voices.
Orderly footsteps.
Men in coats.
Needles.
Restraints.
And a voice.
Low.
Calm.
Emotionless.
"No survivors."
His fingers curled into the sheets.
Not anger.
Not rage.
Control.
That voice had control.
Authority.
Power.
The same kind he had felt tonight.
Different man.
Same presence.
Same dominance energy.
Same calm cruelty.
His chest tightened.
He whispered to the empty room:
"Not again…"
But his body betrayed him.
Not with desire.
Not with heat.
With reaction.
Omega instinct doesn't ask permission.
It responds to power.
To dominance.
To presence.
To territory.
And somewhere deep inside his biology, something had already answered a call his mind was refusing to accept.
In the car
Eli spoke softly.
"There's something else."
Kael didn't look away from the building.
"Speak."
"The omega response pattern is unusual."
Rowan frowned. "Explain."
"He didn't panic like prey. He didn't scatter. He didn't lose control. He didn't trigger heat response."
Eli scrolled.
"His bio-patterns — from street cams, thermal scans, micro-expressions — show discipline. Control. Resistance. Containment."
Pause.
"He's trained himself."
Kael finally looked down.
"From what?"
Eli answered quietly.
"From being owned."
Silence filled the car.
Kael's fingers tightened once on his knee.
Then relaxed.
Not anger.
Not pity.
Recognition.
"Don't take him," Kael said.
Rowan looked at him. "Then what?"
Kael's voice was low.
Controlled.
Certain.
"We don't hunt him."
Pause.
"We let him feel us."
Rowan's eyes narrowed. "Pressure strategy?"
"Yes."
No force.
No capture.
No violence.
No chains.
No marks.
No drugs.
Just presence.
Just control.
Just territory.
Just attention.
Just pressure.
The kind that makes escape feel pointless.
Upstairs
Serin's body felt wrong.
Too aware.
Too sensitive.
Too alert.
He could feel his heartbeat in his throat.
His skin reacted to nothing.
His nerves buzzed.
His omega instincts stayed awake.
Not in fear alone.
In conflict.
Fear.
Safety.
Threat.
Pull.
Repulsion.
Attraction.
Resistance.
Instinct.
All at once.
He pressed his palm to his chest.
"Get a grip," he whispered.
But his body didn't listen.
Because biology doesn't care about trauma.
It responds to power.
And something powerful had noticed him.