Overheat

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/40499622.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Fandom: รักโคตรร้ายสุดท้ายโคตรรัก | KinnPorsche: The Series (TV)
Relationship: Pete Phongsakorn Saengtham/Vegas Kornwit Theerapanyakun,
Porsche Pachara Kittisawat/Kinn Anakinn Theerapanyakun, Porsche
Pachara Kittisawat/Pete Phongsakorn Saengtham, Pete Phongsakorn
Saengtham/Kinn Anakinn Theerapanyakun, Porsche Pachara
Kittisawat/Vegas Kornwit Theerapanyakun
Character: Vegas Kornwit Theerapanyakun, Porsche Pachara Kittisawat, Pete
Phongsakorn Saengtham, Kinn Anakinn Theerapanyakun
Additional Tags: ABO dynamics, Actor AU, Annoying Cousins, Alpha/Beta/Omega
Dynamics, Stage Play, Jealousy, Crushes, Fan Service, First Time, First
Time Bottoming, dub con, Derogatory Language, Obsessive Behavior,
the theerapanyakul cousins terrorizing the drama world, Angst,
Cuddling, break ups, Betrayal, Happy Ending, Power Dynamics, Power
Play
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2022-07-23 Updated: 2023-05-11 Words: 105,735 Chapters:
45/?

Overheat
by bitacrytic

Summary

During camp for a drama tour, Porsche and Pete grab the attention of the mafia cousins,
Kinn and Vegas.
-
Vegas stumbles upon Pete when he comes to drop Porsche off at camp. It's a small spark
between, but suddenly, he's obsessed with Porsche's Co-star.
Kinn, on the other hand, has known Porsche for years and has been trying to poach him
from Vegas' agency. After a one night stand, Kinn realizes that maybe he doesn't want
Porsche as one of his actors. He wants him for an entirely new reason.
 the long, black skirt

___

Vegas hummed and nodded, watching the crowd in front of the building as it grew, and grew some
more. He wasn't really listening to the conversation because it was a useless conversation. Porsche
got mouthy when he was being a coward and Vegas wasn’t in the mood to engage.

He was more worried about the men and women growing in number, placards in their hand that
said the most offensive things. Human hate was an interesting thing. Most times, it was coated in
love for humanity. Vegas had seen this shit all his life. People were never going to be different.
Only fools believed in activism and change.

Vegas believed in endeavors that made him money.

Unfortunately, freedom of speech was still a thing. The bigots with the placards could write
whatever the fuck they wanted. Sure as Porsche could say whatever useless thing he wanted to say
to stall going into the building.

“You know,” Vegas said, cutting into what Porsche was going to say next. “That you could just go
in through the garage.”

“No,” Porsche said, tapping his hands on the dashboard. “Everyone knows I’m in this play. If I
don’t enter through the front…” He licked his lips, pressed together and shook his head. “I’m
going in through the front. Take pictures.”

“For the last time,” Vegas said. “I’m not camping with you. Toss is staying.”

“Yes, Phi,” the nervous boy in the backseat said, leaning between the two of them in the front.
“I’m here for you, Phi-Porsche.”

“Well Toss, take good pictures.” He clapped his hands. “Okay then, let’s go.”

Vegas restarted the car.

He had things to do. Businesses to run. Assholes to frighten. The fact that he’d taken the day to do
this should have been enough to tell this ingrate in the passenger seat that Vegas couldn’t afford
him any more favors. But this was just like Porsche to assume and expect and take up every ounce
of Vegas’ time.

Really, Vegas didn’t spoil any of his other artists like this.

Porsche took out his jar of suppressants from his bag, unscrewed the cover as he popped two
tablets into his mouth.

“Tell me I want to do this.”

“You want to do this,” Vegas said, going through his schedule in his head.

“Tell me I’ll be great.”

“You’ll be great.”
“Do you think so?” Porsche asked.

Vegas sighed.

“You signed a contract. You have to do it.”

“You’re a horrible manager.”

“I! Am not! Your manager!”

He slowed down at the front as the crowd of protesters converged on the car. Toss got out to open
Porsche’s door.

“You’re no fun,” Porsche said, putting on his sun glasses and exiting the car.

“Take care of him,” Vegas said to Toss.

“Will do, Sir.”

Vegas' phone buzzed as alerts from Porsche's appearance at the Graham Blitz Hotel started
flooding in. He didn’t even have to check. Porsche was an omega rights activist who also supported
a lot of marriage equality groups. Choosing to be in such a controversial play was good for his
image. He’d been in a rut for a couple of years. Breaking his hiatus by being in this play was good
for him.

At least, this way, Vegas would be spared midnight calls with horrible pitches that Porsche seemed
to have at the worst of times. A six-month long camp was good for both of them. Really. Vegas
needed a break.

He drove into traffic, pulling out his phone when he caught sight of Porsche’s jar of suppressants.

“Fuck!” he said.

He pulled over and picked the jar from the floor of the car. For crying out loud, Porsche was older
than Vegas. The fact that he was a child, at this age, was so frustrating, sometimes.

The plan had been to drop them off and leave. But by now, Porsche would have dropped his bags
and made it into rehearsals. Calling him out would be impossible. Especially if his phone was with
Toss.

He drove into the garage and parked. Then he searched the entire car for something to carry the jar
in. Everyone took suppressants when they were going to camp. It wouldn't be strange to walk in
with it. But Porsche was self-conscious about this brand. It was prescribed for his condition. A
condition that wasn’t public yet. Porsche was private, like that. One look at this jar and everyone
would know.

He found a squeezed up magazine and a disposable leather bag. He wrapped the suppressants in
the magazine, then put it in the bag and exited the car. He cussed Porsche all the way up the
elevator. Gave him new names as he got out of the elevator. Followed the signs to the rehearsal
hall.

Security wasn’t a problem. Everyone in the building knew who he was. The problem was all the
staring. This was why Vegas hated interacting with people. They tended to stare when you ignored
them and walked by. Because, apparently, everyone was supposed to smile and greet and pretend
to give a fuck.
As he poked his head in, the big room had been cleared of chairs, with the director, writers and
producers in a line, sitting on chairs, while the cast got comfortable, standing around, or sitting on
the ground. Porsche was standing by the mirror, already deep in conversation with another actor.
Vegas searched for Toss. But Toss was on the other side of the room, with most of the managers.
He had on his waist bag, watching Porsche, waiting to be sent on an errand.

Vegas was about to gesture for him to come when he noticed a familiar face… or a familiar back.
Scoffing, Vegas went closer.

“Really?” he asked, standing beside the other man.

“What are you doing here?” Kinn asked, frowning at him.

“You do realize, as CEO, you can hire other people to do this part, right?”

“It’s a big deal. This play is a classic. I’d rather be here.” He frowned at Vegas. “I’m surprised that
you’re here.”

“I came to drop something for Porsche.”

That was when Toss noticed him and started towards him.

“You're not staying?” Kinn asked.

“Why would I?” he asked back, sparing Porsche a glance as Porsche moved aside, revealing the
person he was talking to.

Seated on the floor, his back against the mirror and his head turned up to Porsche, was a young
man with the cutest, heart shaped lips Vegas had ever seen. His eyes shone with glee as he smiled
up at Porsche, engrossed in whatever the fuck Porsche was saying. His neck was stretched,
exposed, bare, begging to be bitten. He was a sight, just sitting there and doing nothing.

His toned arms were uncovered by the sleeveless, blue cropped top and around him, the drape of
his long, black, flared skirt spread around him with his legs folded underneath it. Vegas wondered
if he was wearing briefs of tights underneath. It would be just too easy to drag him away and lift
that skirt up, just so Vegas could see for himself.

Because Vegas wanted to see.

“Who’s that? The one Porsche is spitting on.”

“Porsche’s co-star?” Kinn asked, like Vegas was supposed to know him. “Pete?”

“Pete,” Vegas asked, confused. “Pete? Your Pete?”

“You’ve met him a million times,” Kinn replied in exasperation.

Vegas thought back to all the times he’d met Kinn’s star artist. Sparkly, bright, always covered in
make-up from head to toe. This was the first time Vegas was seeing him and good god, was he
gorgeous.

“Your make-up artists do not do him justice.”

Kinn smacked Vegas on the shoulder just as Toss got to them. Pressing the suppressants into Toss’
hand, Vegas faced his cousin.
“What the fuck?”

“We’re not doing this again.”

“Why did you hit me?” he asked, hitting Kinn back.

“My agency is not your escort service.”

“I never said it was.”

“If you want to get your dick wet, fuck your own artists.”

“I’ll fuck whoever the fuck I want to fuck.”

“How would you feel if I did that to you? Imagine if I fucked your artists. Imagine if I fucked
Porsche.”

Vegas shrugged.

“I wouldn’t care.”

Kinn tilted his head, smiling at Vegas.

“Say that again,” he commanded, challenging Vegas. “This time, try sounding more convincing.”

Vegas ran his hand through his hair, looking away from Kinn. Because Kinn never knew how to
play fair. He always had to dig in and draw blood. They couldn’t just talk without Kinn going too
far.

“Keep your fucking artist,” Vegas said, just as the director clapped and moved to the center of the
room, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Good morning, everyone,” he said.

“Good morning,” the crowd around him murmured.

“We have some visitors out there who came to greet us.”

People laughed.

“They came to wish us good luck on this auspicious endeavor,” the director said. “It’s real. It’s
here. We’re staging the classical play titled, “Overheat” and we expected this backlash. We just
have to stay strong. Right?”

Murmurs and shouts of affirmation rang through the crowd.

“I hope everyone’s started their suppressants. Wouldn’t want anyone going into a rut and triggering
the entire cast. We have work to do, people. If you haven’t taken your tablets, now’s the time.”

No one moved.

Everyone present was already on suppressants. Production was on a schedule. Having to stop
rehearsals because half the cast and crew were incapacitated for a week wasn’t the best. That was
something that had to be scheduled in, for a time when everyone had stabilized and their cycles
synced.
“Umm, Director?” Kinn said. “He’s not on suppressants.”

Vegas’ eyebrows dropped because his annoying cousin was pointing at him.

“Oh,” the director said, bowing to Vegas. “You’re here, Khun-Vegas.”

Vegas barely acknowledged the man. He just stared back at the man, his back straight, his hands
clasped at his back, as he dared the man to speak to him. Or worse, ask Vegas to leave.

“Shouldn’t he leave?” Kinn asked, looking at Vegas and knowing that he was getting on Vegas’
nerves. “Don’t you think Director?”

I swear to god , Vegas thought. Who could be intimidating with their older cousin in the room?

“Uh, Khun-Vegas. Will you like some suppressants?” the director asked, desperately searching for
middle ground.

“He’s not planning to stay,” Kinn offered. “Isn’t that what you said?”

Vegas was about to answer when his eyes roamed till they landed on the prettiest brown eyes he’d
ever seen. This time, those eyes were trained on Vegas, watching him with quiet curiosity. Like he
had never seen Vegas before. Like he was trying to follow the conversation, follow every word
that left Vegas’ mouth.

Caught in the moment, unable to look away, Vegas longed to step forward. It almost hurt not to be
able to go to him. The man blinked, waiting for Vegas to speak. There was a heavy dip in Vegas’
belly, followed by light fluttering.

But then the moment was broken as Porsche whispered something to Pete and Pete looked away,
breaking the connection. Vegas almost stepped back like he was slapped in the face. How could he
look away? How could he be distracted from this… thing… that was brewing between them? How
could Porsche take this away from Vegas?

Betrayed, mildly annoyed, Vegas looked at the director and motioned for Toss to come to him.

“It’s not a problem, Director,” Vegas said. “I’ll have my suppressants here in a moment.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Kinn asked.

“I’m staying, Phi,” Vegas said with a wide, toothy grin.

“You said you were leaving.”

“Don’t worry, Director. Continue along and pretend that I’m not even here.”

Unsure, the director turned back to his speech. When Toss got to Vegas, Vegas handed him the car
keys.

“Go home, pack me a bag and get a jar of suppressants from the pharmacy for me.”

“What brand?”

“I don’t care, Toss. Just get it done.”

As Toss ran off, Kinn shook his head.

“You cannot be serious.”

“Why not?” he asked. “I’m trying to be more like you. I’m applying a more hands-on approach.”

“But you’re not a manager.”

Yeah, well, Vegas was not a lot of things. But he was very aware that, in this moment, he was
willing to do just about anything to spend the next six months getting to know the brown-eyed
beauty in the black skirt.
 What the director wants

“No, that’s too sharp.”

“Bend a little more.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

“Slant backwards.”

“Use your hips.”

Porsche inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as everyone around him went quiet. When he exhaled, he
turned to the director as he rolled up his script, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it as a weapon
against the foolish man.

“I’m sorry,” Porsche said. “Do you have a problem with everything I do?”

Sitting on a stool, backing the mirror, with everyone else while Porsche and Pete stood at the
center of the rehearsal room, the director frowned at Porsche.

“You’re not playing one of your regular alpha roles, Porsche.”

“I know that-”

“As an omega, there are certain beats you have to hit.”

““As an omega”?” Porsche quoted back to him, livid. “Is there supposed to be a way that omegas
act, Sir?”

“Yes,” the director said, shamelessly.

Porsche could not believe what he was hearing.

“You’re telling me that even in a play as progressive as this one, you want to fit omegas into a
box?”

“It’s the way Beon was written.”

“The play doesn’t specify,” Porsche argued. “Kittisak wrote the play that way so that omegas
could be portrayed diversely.”

“And this is the way I want you to portray Beon.”

“If that’s so, and you saw my interpretation at the auditions, why did you pick me for the role?”

The director crossed his leg as he stared up at Porsche. The question hung in the air as Porsche
looked around, realizing that they all knew the answer to the question. No one would say it. No
one would admit it. But Porsche hadn’t been picked because he was perfect for the role. He’d been
picked because he was Porsche Kittisawasd. A popular name that would bring a lot of noise to the
play.

Biting his lip to keep from screaming, Porsche exited the rehearsal room, walked down the hall to
the bathroom, shut himself in one of the stalls and screamed into his script. Because, what the
actual fuck? Decades, Porsche had poured into his career; years, he’d dedicated to putting omega
voices in people’s ears and this was where he ended up? Parroting stereotypes on stage like a
puppet.

The bathroom door opened.

“Porsche?”

“Go away, Vegas.”

Like a gnat, Vegas disobeyed, locking the bathroom door as he walked down to the front of
Porsche’s stall and gently pushed the door open. He held out a face towel to Porsche.

Sniffing, Porsche took it to wipe his eyes.

“He’s a regressive fucker.”

“I know.”

“I do not want to put money in his pocket.”

“You signed a contract.”

“Fuck the contract.”

“Porsche.”

“Vegas,” Porsche said, looking up at Vegas with tears in his eyes. “I do not want to be here.”

“You need to stop crying and buck up,” Vegas said. “People are already talking.”

In the middle of wiping his nose, Porsche stopped.

“I really want to punch you right now.”

“You’re behaving like a child.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“There are already rumors about you. You’ve been gone for two years. If this gets out that you’re
acting up during rehearsal, holding up the work time because of your feelings, people are going to
start digging. Again.”

“Fuck them.”

“Put all this angst into your role and stop being so emotional about everything else.”

“Get out.”

“It’s illegal for omegas to have jobs, Porsche. Think carefully. You walk away from this and it’s
not just this job you’re risking.”

“People will think what they want to think."

“Well your hyper-alpha schtick, coupled with your habit of holding out when your way isn't
followed, screams omega-in-the-closet.”
Porsche ran his hands through his hair.

“Do you see the irony?” he laughed. “He wants me to be a stereotypical omega and yet, if I
actually turn out to be an omega, I lose the job.”

Vegas leaned on the stall.

“No one cares about the truth. They just want to see other people burn.” He grabbed the towel and
lifted Porsche’s face with his chin. As he walked closer, he wiped the tears from Porsche’s eyes.
“He’s the director, Porsche.”

“I know that but-”

“But nothing. You’re an actor. If he says “jump” you say “how high”.”

“I want to kick him.”

“Don’t worry,” Vegas said. “He has one more chance to make you cry.”

Porsche laughed. But then the laughter quickly died in his throat, because you never knew when
Vegas was joking or serious about stuff like this. Pulling away from Vegas, Porsche looked him in
the eye.

“Don’t kill the play’s director, Vegas.”

“Mind your business. Your job is to act. Mine is to make sure you’re as spoilt and entitled as you
want to be.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He moved away from Porsche, heading for the door. “Toss will bring your knapsack.
Take the day off. Tomorrow, you resume work like none of this ever happened.

“Don’t do anything to him.”

Unlocking the door, Vegas smiled.

“If I told you I wouldn’t, would you believe me?”

Honestly, no. As Porsche had learned when they were younger, Vegas would do whatever the fuck
Vegas wanted to do.

***

Porsche was lying across his bed, with his head hanging off the side when the room door clicked
and opened. Up-side-down, he watched Pete enter the room. It was way past dinner. He could only
imagine how much they’d talked about him, all through the day. He wondered how much of it had
been said in the presence of Pete. How much of it had Pete contributed?

“You’re still awake,” Pete said, dropping his bag on his own bed and taking off his shoes as he
climbed the bed and sat, looking down at Porsche. “Are you okay?”

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”
“This,” he said, waving at Pete. “The way you move. The way you talk. Everything is so smooth
and graceful and-”

“Omega-like?” Pete scoffed. “It took years and years to learn this expression.”

“I know. You’ve had what? Like a million omega roles?”

“Twenty one, but who's counting?"

Porsche sat up, turning on his bed so he could face Pete.

"But it's not just when you're acting, though."

"I've based my entire career on being this," he gestured at himself. "I could never be anything
else."

Porsche narrowed his eyes on Pete. Because that wasn't entirely true. Pete had his moments.
Periods when he wasn't giggling or smiling. Moments when he wasn't moving like he was trying to
seduce every alpha within a ten-mile radius. Porsche had seen it before. Underneath that omega
canvas, was an actual human being.

"Show me." Porsche moved closer, his legs falling off the side of his bed.

"You don't want to be my kind of omega."

"It's what the director wants."

"You don't even like the director," Pete said, leaning back on his hands. "The way I see it, he needs
you more than you need him. Half the country cares because it's a controversial play. The other
half cares because Porsche is playing Beon."

"I signed a contract."

Pete scoffed and fell back on his bed.

"If you wanted to, you could get out of it." Then he lifted his head sharply, as if he just realized
what he'd said. "But don't. I need this play to work."

"Then help me." Porsche pulled Pete's hands till Pete was sitting up again. "I have a lot of
mannerisms to un… learn and I hate the director, but you? I can listen to you."

Pete watched him, quiet and contemplating, as if not sure how to approach this.

“Self-expression is a mentality,” Pete said. “He’s not just asking you to act. He’s asking you to
change the way you think. I imagine you’ve learned to be what you are, the way I’ve learned to be
what I am.” He got up and stood before Porsche. “Move back.” Porsche pushed up from the bed
and moved back as Pete knelt over him. “If I were to say that I don’t think omegas should be in the
workplace…”

The bile that rose up in Porsche’s throat at Pete’s words was immediate. But before he could react
to it, he realized that Pete hadn’t finished his sentence. He’d stopped speaking, looking down on
Porsche with a knowing expression.

“Are you trying to make a point?”

“Your first instinct was to fight me.”

“Because it’s bullshit.”

“Do you think I’d fight you if I believed differently?”

“No,” he replied. He’d seen Pete in disagreeable situations, but he’d never seen him in a fight.

“Would you call me a pushover?”

“No.”

Porsche could see where Pete was going with this. But the mere thought of swallowing his anger in
the name of some long game was so alien to Porsche. If he had a thought, Porsche wanted it out of
his head. If he had a grudge, he didn’t hold back. He could not imagine living life, going through
the motions, curbing his tongue just because he didn’t want to step on other people’s toes.

“That thought?” Pete asked. “That’s what you need to get rid of.”

“You want to change what’s fundamental about me.”

“I’m asking you to step into a role. As an actor.” He put his other knee on the other side of
Porsche’s body, boxing him in. “It’s literally your job.” Pete picked Porsche’s hands and put them
on his waist.

“Is there a reason we’re doing this?”

“We all bow to something. To someone,” Pete ran his hands through Porsche’s hair. “I’m sure
there’s someone you don’t dare argue with.”

“No one.”

Pete’s lips dipped in a disbelieving smile, as he waited for Porsche.

“My mom,” Porsche admitted.

“I’m sure there are moments when she’s caved to you, in return.” His hands dropped to Porsche's
neck, caressing gently, and okay, maybe it wasn’t weird to have his co-star in his lap, feeling him
up.

“Yes, but that’s just when I tell her what she needs to hear.”

As the words left his mouth, Pete nodded at him.

“Ah,” Porsche said in realization. “Omega equals manipulation.”

“Now, you get it.”

“How does that translate to physical movements then? How do I act… manipulatively?”

Pete adjusted himself, fitting himself into Porsche’s lap as Porsche winced because this was
beginning to feel much better than it should.

“Just imagine what the person in front of you wants to see, what they want to hear. Imagine what
they want you to be. And be it.”

“It’s that simple,” Porsche said, his hands rising under Pete’s cropped top.
“It is. Lucky for you, the director has told you what he wants to see.”

“Soft movements, hips out, chest up?”

“Don’t forget the lean,” he whispered in Porsche’s ear. “Every alpha or beta goes crazy for the
omega lean.”

His breath on Porsche’s skin felt like a lover’s caress. Too intimate for their working relationship.

“I don't know about you theater kids,” Porsche said, gulping as Pete shifted to look at him. “But us
film industry folk tend not to fuck our co-stars.”

“No?” Pete asked, eyes dipping to Porsche’s lips.

Porsche laughed, shaking his head.

“You’re trouble.”

“You listened to me.”

“Not because you were in my lap.”

“It definitely helped.” Pete leaned closer, his lips mere inches from Porsche’s. “You’d do well to
remember that as an omega, sex is always on the table. No matter the conversation.”

“It is not!”

“That’s what the director was trying to tell you.”

“No, he was-”

“As long as you speak and move like you want to fuck me, he won’t complain about a single thing
you do.”

A wave of comprehension washed over Porsche like bright headlights from an oncoming vehicle.
Because that was it, wasn’t it? He felt disgusted to realize it, but Pete was right. They didn’t want a
sensible omega. They wanted a horny man who sold sex. After all “Overheat” was steeped in sex
and cycles and everything between. Alphas had the privilege to look like they had other things on
their minds. Omegas did not. At least, not the omegas that the director was interested in portraying.

“Do you get it?” Pete asked, putting a little distance between them.

Porsche nodded, breathing hard. He wasn’t sure if it was from the realization or from the
tantalizing treat that was Pete.

“My work here is done.”

And just like that, he shifted back and got off of Porsche’s lap, like it was nothing. Like he hadn’t
just revved Porsche’s engines and left him hanging. It wasn’t like he was expecting to fuck his
roommate but fuck if Pete wasn’t a special kind of evil.

“I’ll shower first,” he said, pulling off his tank top as he started to undress.

Porsche looked away.

Pete hadn’t been headed anywhere with his advances. He really was just teaching Porsche a lesson.
Now the lesson was done, he was just going to dust off and walk away. Yeah , Porsche thought,
getting up and slipping into his shoes and grabbing his phone as he headed for the door.

Because there was no way he was spending the night in the same room as all that.
 Proposing proposals
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Just as Kinn stepped out of the shower, he heard a knock at his door. Wrapping a bathrobe around
his body, he toweled his hair as he went to the door.

"Someone smells nice," Porsche said, leaning against the door with his hips angled to the frame
and one hand in his hair.

Kinn scoffed.

"What are you doing?" Kinn asked, walking back into the room as Porsche followed him in.

"I'm trying to be sexy."

Kinn shook his head as he turned on the TV for Porsche and went to investigate his box. He hadn’t
had time to unpack the whole day, so he just rustled through his things and took out a pair of navy
blue pajamas.

"Where's Vegas?" Porsche asked. "I need a place to sleep and Toss has three roommates."

"Vegas is out."

"Where?"

Kinn couldn't answer that. Vegas was doing other stuff. Family stuff. Stuff that Kinn couldn't work
into polite conversation. He had to be away. Which was why Kinn was shocked that Vegas had
offered to stay in camp.

Kinn could afford to. He had Tankhun. He had Kim. If Kinn was missing in action for six months,
his family wouldn't crumble under the pressure.

Vegas, on the other hand, was the only adult son. He had to do everything and he would rather put
a bullet in his own eye than let their dad send Macau out on one of those jobs.

"Fine. Keep your dangerous family secrets."

“What happened to your own room?”

“My roommate is possessed.”

“What?” Kinn asked. “Pete is an angel.”

Porsche collapsed into the desk chair in the corner, facing away from Kinn so Kinn could get
dressed.

"And I would never neglect you like this if I was your manager."

Kinn said it, jokingly. Well, half jokingly. It wasn’t a secret that Kinn wanted Porsche under his
label. Vegas knew it. Porsche knew it. Every media outlet had covered a story on it, at some point.
Because Kinn knew he’d be better suited for Porsche’s activism. They believed in the same things
and there were so many organizations that would benefit from having Porsche appear at their
functions. Vegas didn’t allow that. Mostly because he often had conflicting interests with said
organizations, considering half the things Vegas had his hand in.

For some reason, Porsche didn’t fight Vegas on it. Causes that Kinn would have assumed Porsche
would stand strong on, he usually caved to Vegas without question. It baffled Kinn and sometimes,
it felt like Vegas was stifling him, just a little.

But they were passed that now. Porsche had shut Kinn down over and over and over again,
refusing to explain why he wouldn’t work for Kinn. Why their relationship could never be
professional.

Now, it was just a joke for Kinn to say this. At least, he always played it off as a joke. Because if
Porsche chose to leave Vegas, Kinn would take him in a moment.

"Bullshit," Porsche said.

"I'd be better than Vegas."

"No, you wouldn't."

"Say what you want, but you wouldn't have had that two-year hiatus with me."

Porsche turned to him.

"What if I needed a hiatus? You don't know what happened."

"Tell me, then."

Kinn pulled on his trousers, then tossed the bathrobe away as he grabbed the top of the pajamas.

Porsche frowned at him, looking like he was seriously contemplating opening up about it. The
media had speculated a billion reasons why Porsche was missing. It started out as a two-week
break. But two weeks had become a month, and then half a year and before anyone knew it,
Porsche was refusing every meeting there was, cutting off all ties to the outside world.

At some point, people thought he'd died and that Vegas' company was keeping the lights on by
lying.

Porsche bit his lip and turned away from Kinn.

"Who's this?" he asked, reading what was on Kinn's laptop.

Of course , Kinn thought. For someone so chatty, Porsche sure did keep a lot of secrets.

"6ft1, brown hair, slender, 31-year-old omega male," Porsche read from the screen. Then he
cringed and pulled away. "Is this an escort service, Kinn?"

Kinn went to him and shut the laptop.

"Don't be nosy."

"Are you hiring or auditioning prostitutes, Kinn?"

"It's not an escort service."

"No judgment."
"It's a marriage proposal."

The blood in Porsche's face drained as soon as he heard what Kinn said. He blinked. Several times,
as if trying to get his head on straight. Then he smiled the fakest smile Kinn had ever seen.

"Your father did this, I presume."

"He thinks it's time," Kinn said, shutting his box and zipping it up.

"Wow," Porsche said, looking down at his hands. "A proposal." He shrugged, smiling again. "So...
final."

"I'm not getting any younger."

"Hey like I said, no judgment."

Kinn sat on the bed, facing Porsche.

"You look like you have a lot to say."

"It's none of my business."

"Porsche."

"You're into omegas. I get it."

"Don’t belittle this. It's not just that. His father is a council member for a bunch of agricultural
boards in very strategic parts of the country. Papa wants Kim to step into foods so..."

"So you're selling yourself for a seat at yet another table."

"Don't say it like that."

"No judgment."

"It does feel like you're judging me."

"You know what?" Porsche asked, standing up. "I shouldn't disturb you."

"Hey, wait," Kinn called, grabbing his arm as he went by and pulling him till he was standing
between Kinn's legs. "What the fuck is this? Since when does Porsche not speak his mind?"

But Porsche turned away from him, one hand wiping at his eyes. Kinn was so confused. He
trapped one of Porsche's legs with his as he grabbed his other hand and tried to turn him around.

"Stop!" Porsche whined.

But Kinn wouldn't let up. When he finally managed to handle Porsche into facing him, Porsche
stood there, head up to the ceiling in petulance. Kinn laughed in triumph, until he noticed the
stream of tears going down Porsche's face.

"Porsche," he said softly, letting go and reaching up to pull Porsche's face to look down at him.

"Don't," Porsche pleaded.

"Why are you crying?"

"Do you really not know?" Porsche asked back.

"Know what?"

Dazed, Kinn inhaled, just a second before Porsche's lips grazed against his own. He couldn't
believe it, because Porsche was kissing him. Not that Kinn had ever fantasized about it, but his lips
were more luscious than Kinn thought. Licking into Kinn's stunned mouth, Porsche explored him,
desperately.

And Kinn would have let him. Because it felt good. Kinn would have allowed it.

But this was Porsche. His childhood friend. Porsche, a beta. Not that there was anything wrong
with betas. But they tended not to have the... uh... requirements that Kinn longed for in a partner.
Yeah, he could make do, but he didn't want to have to "make do" with someone as precious as
Porsche. Porsche wasn't a stranger. The last thing Kinn wanted to do was lead him on.

Especially with Kinn's fiancé on the way.

So, Kinn pushed him away.

"Porsche-"

Porsche placed a finger over Kinn's lips.

"I know I'm not what you want."

"Porsche-"

"I'll never be an omega."

"Porsche-"

"But can I have just this one night?" Porsche asked, caressing Kinn's lips. "One night and I swear,"
he lowered his head again. "We will never have to talk about it. I swear." He kissed Kinn. "Please."
He kissed Kinn again. "I'll do anything you want, I'll be..." he said, pushing Kinn’s top off his
shoulders. "I'll be anything you want."

"This is crazy," Kinn said, looking into Porsche's eyes.

Because, where the fuck had this all come from? He would admit that Porsche was an awkward
flirt, with Kinn. It happened all the time. But Porsche was also very, very generous with his loud,
awkward displays of affection. With Kinn. With everybody.

Kinn couldn’t even get a moment of Porsche’s time because he was a weird social butterfly who
fell in love with everybody he met. But it never led to anything. Because everybody knew that
Porsche’s affections hardly ever led to anything sexual. Porsche was just Porsche.

"Are you playing with me?"

Instead of responding, Porsche kissed him again, pushing Kinn down to the bed as he climbed on
top of him.

"One time," he begged, his breath washing over Kinn. "That's all I ask."

This time, he didn't kiss Kinn. He just waited, suspended above Kinn, his eyes wet with tears as
they breathed in each other’s exhaled breaths.
 On the one hand, this could lead to catastrophe. If Vegas found out…

But then again, Porsche was an adult. He was his own person. He’d made the decision to come to
Kinn’s room. Kinn hadn’t pursued him. Really, what could be the harm? Porsche wasn't offering
more than Kinn asked of any of his other partners. Just this once. It wouldn't complicate things if
everything went back to normal in the morning.

No one would have to know. Not Kinn’s father. Not Porsche’s parents. Definitely not Vegas.

Besides, now that Kinn's dick was aware that this was an option, it had started to stir a bit. Because
Porsche was gorgeous. And even though he’d been off the table all their lives, he was now
suddenly smack, dab at the center of it: a tantalizing meal calling to Kinn by all three names. What
harm, really?

None, at all.

This time, when their lips met, it was because Kinn had leaned up to press his to Porsche's.

Chapter End Notes

now... on to Pete :)
 Wan's demands

Two weeks ago

___

Pete woke up cold. Everywhere was eerily quiet, and dark. He blinked a couple of times to confirm
that his eyes were open. He just couldn’t see anything. No windows, no light beneath a door, no
reflection.

He was sitting on a metal chair. When he tried to move, he couldn’t because his feet were zip-tied
to the legs of the chair and his knees were strapped to the sides of the chair. His hands were cuffed
behind the chair, where a chain held the cuffs to the ground.

And, he was naked.

The chair had bars, instead of a cushion. Four rods, going from the back to the front, with Pete’s
thighs wedged on top of them. All his bits were hanging down the center, exposed more than ever
before.

The lights came on. Stunned, Pete shut his eyes and lowered his head, hissing. A metal door
opened and closed in the distance, echoing throughout the room. A very, very big room. Probably a
warehouse. Or a garage. He could hear the footsteps of one person, marching steadily towards
Pete.

Forcing his eyes open, Pete saw the camera. It was on a tripod, positioned in front of the large,
yellow light that was shining right into Pete’s eyes. An odd place to keep a camera. Because the
general consensus was that cameras stayed beyond the light. The fact that the camera was where it
was placed meant that whoever did this wanted Pete to see the camera. To know that it was there.

As a threat.

“Good evening, Pete,” a man said, walking into view, a file in his hand. “My name is Wan. I was
wondering if we could have a nice chat.”

Pete couldn’t see more than a silhouette because the man was standing against the light. He could
see that he was wearing a suit. He was slender and tall and his hair was short. But that was all Pete
could make out of the man.

“We use phones these days,” Pete said. Then he cleared his throat because he felt scratchy. There
was a slight tingle at the back of Pete’s throat.

“We couldn’t risk you saying no,” Wan said. “We know how much you hate law enforcement. If
we gave you a choice, you might blow this operation.”

“Hence the camera,” Pete said, adjusting himself in his weird seat because his back was beginning
to ache a little.

The man chuckled.

“The camera was my partner’s idea.”

“To blackmail me into becoming a mole, right?” Pete asked. “I have to tell you, Wan, leaking nude
videos of me wouldn’t be as exciting as it is for everyone else, seeing as I’m naked on stage every
other week.”

“Oh yes, I know,” Wan said, opening the file. “You’re an adult, stage actor. I saw you in “Beyond
the Valley’s Lilies” earlier this year.”

“I hope you enjoyed it,” Pete said, as he realized the place was getting a bit hotter than usual.

“Too much skin for me.”

“Well, not everyone has good taste.”

Wan laughed.

“You’re funny.”

“I try my best.”

“You’re an intriguing little fella, aren’t you?”

“I’m not going to help you get to Kinn,” Pete said, looking up at Wan. “You may as well just pack
this up, now.”

Wan looked at the file in his hand as he walked around Pete.

“Interesting rap sheet. Prison, stardom, jail, jail, more stardom. Your life has been a roller coaster.”

“All public knowledge,” Pete said, feeling a kink in his neck. He cracked it from side to side to get
rid of it, but it persisted.

“Yes,” Wan said, stopping behind Pete. “But I’m sure there’s something the public doesn’t know.”

It was Pete’s turn to laugh.

“Did you bring me here in the hopes that I’d expose myself? You’re terrible at your job.”

“Do you know how long you were passed out for?”

Pete’s laugh died down as he tried to look back at Wan, but Wan held him by the neck, keeping
Pete’s head towards the camera. Pete’s heart rate shot up. He tried to move away but Wan held him
in place, using his other hand to keep Pete’s head in place.

“You’ve been passed out for twenty-four hours.”

No , Pete thought, suddenly recognizing why he’d been feeling so tired and achy since he woke.
Please.

“Twenty four hours without your tablets, after going four whole months on a strict regimen isn’t
the best news, is it?”

“Oh god,” Pete said, feeling tears in his eyes.

“Especially for someone like you.”

“Get your hands off me.”

Pete pushed himself forward and Wan let him go. The problem was that the movement caused him
to slide along the bars in his chair. Pete’s heart sank as he realized just how slippery it was to
move.

“Without your suppressants, that heat should be kicking in right about now.”

Pete tried to close his knees, but they were strapped apart.

“An omega in the entertainment industry," he said. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. I mean, they'll excuse your
prison time before they willing let an omega on stage.”

“What do you want?” Pete asked, tears running down his face as he felt the beginning burn in his
stomach.

“Oh no, Pete. I’m going to let you sit for a second. Because we can’t have this conversation unless
you’re sure that there’s something to lose.”

Wan walked up the camera and fiddled with it. When he stepped away, he turned to Pete.

“Take a moment to imagine what you could lose if this video ever got out.”

And with that, Wan marched right out of the warehouse, leaving Pete to reel in fear as the first
drops of omega sleek began to drip down to the floor.

In clear view of the recording camera.

***

Pete sweated profusely. It was so hot. He couldn’t help crying because the ache had built up to a
thrumming pain in his stomach and back. He’d never had cycle sex with anyone because people
tended to talk. Which was why he had an assortment of heat relieving toys and emotional support
gadgets in his apartment.

His body was screaming for stimulation. It hurt so much to be this… empty, no vibration to help
ease the want of a nut, no giant plushies to share his warmth. Nothing. Pete wanted to scream, but
he didn’t want to give Wan the satisfaction of seeing him break on camera.

Shaking, Pete raised his head to the ceiling to hide the pain and tears. Because, fucking hell. His
dick was hard, standing against his stomach, begging for a touch that Pete couldn't give. He was
now sleeking properly, dripping to the floor in a consistent flow. If there’d been any doubt, thirty
minutes ago, it was gone now.

There was video evidence out in the world that Pete Saengthem was an omega.

And they were going to use it to get him to turn against Kinn. Pete cried silently, staring up at the
ceiling. Kinn had saved Pete’s life. He’d scouted him right out of prison, because he’d seen Pete in
a prison play. At first he’d thought it was a joke. Seven years later, Pete was still waiting for the
punchline.

His family was grateful to Kinn because of everything the Theerapanyakul’s did for them. Their
village was better for it. Not to mention the amount of times Tankhun was there for Pete when he
needed emotional support. Being an omega in the closet wasn’t the easiest thing for anyone. He
needed comfort. He needed love. He needed people.

Kinn gave him that.

And now they were going to force him to tell on Kinn in exchange for his future. Because if Pete
was honest, professionally, he could do without Kinn. If something happened and the agency fell,
Pete wouldn’t have any trouble finding representation. It would just be Kinn and/or his family who
took the brunt of that hit.

Fuck it.

Kinn was a dubious mother fucker. But he was a good man. He was good to Pete. He loved Pete.
He helped him. Pete could not imagine a world where he did something so disloyal to Kinn, after
everything Kinn had ever done for him.

“Fuck,” he whispered, when he heard the door open and close.

His lips quivered as he gripped the chain holding his cuffs to the floor. He wanted to fucking die.
How long were they going to keep him like this? His heat usually ran four to seven days. Was Wan
going to let him go through this for four days? Pete moaned, trying to close his legs, but the straps
wouldn’t budge. He needed to feel something. Anything. He hated feeling this way. Because, god
knows, it could be worse. He’d seen it get worse for other people in less vulnerable situations than
the one Pete was in.

Wan switched off the camera.

“There’s a seclusion unit prepped and ready for you to use. You can ride out the heat in it or leave,
as soon as we’re done here.”

Pete ignored him.

“Are you ready to talk to me?” Wan asked.

“Go… fuck yours… self.”

Pete’s breathing was heavy. And for the love of all things unrighteous, hearing another human
being’s voice was calming his omega nerves. He was headed for a hard hit if he didn’t leave this
place.

“You haven’t even heard my offer.”

“I will not,” Pete said. “I… will not snitch… on Kinn.”

Wan frowned at him.

“Who says we want Kinn?”

Unsure what to make of that, Pete looked away from the ceiling to Wan’s silhouette.

“If you don’t want Kinn… who do you want?”

“His cousin,” Wan explained. “Vegas.”

***

Present day

Pete exited his room that morning, his gym bag slung over his shoulders and his water bottle in his
hand. He hoped Porsche had taken his key when he fled from the room the night before.

As he pulled the door closed, he noticed Vegas, a couple of doors down, staring at him. He was
still in yesterday’s clothes, but his hair wasn’t ruffled and he didn’t look tired or worn out. He
hadn’t slept in his bed, but wherever he’d slept, he’d rested and showered, from the looks of things.

“Good morning,” Pete said.

“Hey,” Vegas said, abandoning his door and coming closer. “Pete, right?”

“Yeah,” Pete said, shocked, as he headed in Vegas’ direction. “I’m surprised you remember.”

“I’ll remember from now on,” Vegas promised, smiling at Pete.

And, wow, this was going to be easy. Pete had thought he’d have to cajole and summersault and
throw himself at Vegas to get his attention, but this was… this was going too smoothly. Because,
Vegas was looking at him like he was the most beautiful thing ever. Which wasn’t strange. Pete
was aware of the effect he had on most people. He’d just never had that effect on Vegas.

“Where are you headed?”

“To the gym,” Pete replied.

“Would you like some company?” he asked, turning in the direction Pete was facing.

“Why, yes,” he said, as they both headed for the elevators.

He’d been completely opposed to the idea of ruining Kinn’s life. But this wasn’t Kinn. This was
someone else. He was nobody to Pete.

If Wan wanted him, Pete would have no problem handing him over and moving on.
 Danger ahead

Pete was used to the attention. Vegas could not imagine someone just sitting in a corner, watching
him without saying anything. He'd have gone mad after the first minute. By the fifth, he'd have his
gun out. But Pete seemed to thrive with it, live in it. Love it, even.

Which was a win/win situation because Vegas was satisfied with just the view. Besides, there was
the very real chance that if Pete talked too much, he'd break the spell Vegas was under. Most
people did. They rambled on, with the impression that Vegas would think them interesting for their
insight.

Not Pete.

Worldly as he was, he knew what he was doing. At some point, Vegas realized that the only reason
Pete was still on that mat in the most suspicious positions was solely for Vegas' benefit.

But then people started coming to the gym. Another reason why Vegas didn't use public gyms.
Left to him, he'd have reserved the entire gym for the day. But that would be too much. He just met
Pete. And the play’s production team needed the hotel's amenities. Putting the actors out of any of
their activities would just put more pressure and negative attention on Porsche's back.

He could just remain in place. Pete didn't seem to mind the added audience. But Vegas hated it.
The thought of other people enjoying a show that was clearly meant for only Vegas, put a sour
taste in his mouth.

He stood, as Pete looked up.

“You’re leaving?”

“I was out all night. I need to get some sleep.”

“Oh,” he said, standing as well. “Same time tomorrow?”

Vegas didn't even hesitate.

"Yes," he agreed, unable to help the smile.

"Maybe then, you can actually join me... instead of just watching."

Vegas assessed that in his mind, waiting for the regular chill of casually touching another person
for any reason other than to inflict pain or to fuck. But it didn't come. He could imagine it, though.
He could see himself on the mat with Pete, letting his body be bent this way and that, not for
pleasure, but not for pain either. At least not the type of pain that Vegas' could give.

He wondered what Pete would think of that. If he knew what Vegas was like on the inside, would
he be this eager to offer his free time? Would he welcome Vegas' touch when Vegas' fingers were
coated with the blood, sweat and tears of countless others?

"It's fine if you don't want to," Pete said, worriedly.

"No, I want to," he replied quickly. "I'll be here," he promised as he waved at Pete, moving
backwards to give himself one last view before he exited the gym.

***
Ignoring all the missed calls and texts, Vegas fell into his bed and didn't wake up for hours.

***

The sun was setting when Vegas opened his eyes. His phone was, once again, vibrating beside
him.

"What?" he said, placing his phone on his ear.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

Vegas sat up as soon as he heard his father's voice.

"Papa, I-"

"You said you would handle Charlem. Why the fuck did he send the papers back without signing
them?"

Vegas clenched his jaw as he pressed his fist into the bed.

"I was with him last night. He said-"

"You can never do anything right."

"Give me a break, Papa."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" his father yelled into the phone, causing Vegas to pull the phone
away or risk permanent damage to his ear. "It's almost 6pm and the boys have been locked out of
the site all day because no one could get a hold of you. Where the fuck are you?"

"I'll handle it, Papa."

The line went dead.

He dialed Nop's number as he took off his shirt.

"Boss?"

"Do you know where Charlem is?"

"I can find him."

"Call me when you do."

It wasn't even that Vegas was angry. Vermin like Charlem didn't deserve Vegas' anger. He knew
men like that who got one taste of a tiny bit of power and wanted to make everyone else chase
them. He hadn't felt so powerful the previous night when he was crying and begging for Vegas'
dick like the powerless beta that he was.

Fuckers like him didn't deserve anger.

They deserved lessons.

Vegas scrubbed himself in the shower, letting the scalding hot water purify the dirt that Charlem
had left behind. He'd showered at Charlem's hotel. But Vegas could still feel Charlem's hands on
his body, his lips on his skin. He could still hear his nasally, sharp voice pitching even higher the
closer he got to cumming.

It was supposed to be a done deal.

But it wasn't. And Vegas knew why. Charlem wanted more. He was going to drag this out, making
Vegas come to him every time just so he could do whatever he wanted. Because he knew Vegas
needed him. Or, at least, he thought so. Because to ignorant men like him, Vegas was a sex toy.

And usually, Vegas didn't give a fuck. His body had never really been his own.

This time, however, the thought of giving Charlem a second chance irked Vegas to the bone in
ways he couldn't understand.

His skin was still blushed from the shower by the time he left his room in search of dinner. He
could have ordered in, but he wanted to check in on Porsche. If he managed to run into a certain,
alluring beta, well, that would just be a happy coincidence.

As soon as he entered the rehearsal room, he was handed a mini carton of food, and a bottle of
water. He found Kinn and Tay in the corner.

"Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence?" Tay said, waving for Vegas to sit on the
floor with them.

"Where were you all day?" Kinn asked.

"I had a meeting."

"Right," he said, watching Vegas. "How was it?"

Vegas shrugged as he set his carton down and started offloading his food.

"As I was saying," Tay said.

"Ugh, just let it go, already."

"Why, because it's affecting your alpha sensibilities?" Tay teased.

"What is it?" Vegas asked.

"Tay thinks-"

"I know for a fact."

"-that the director is trying hard not to oversexualize the alpha couple, as much as he's sexualizing
the omega couple," Kinn explained.

A fair assessment. It happened all the time. Most people wanted to brush over the intimacy that
two alphas could share because it made most alphas feel uncomfortable. But exploring the sexual
nature of the omega couple was what they always jumped to, when they wanted to be perceived as
"progressive".

"See?" Tay said. "Vegas agrees with me."

Kinn frowned at Vegas.

"I didn't even say anything."

"It's all over your face," Tay said.

"I just came to eat dinner."

"You know I'm right. You guys just don't like the idea of seeing an alpha bottom for anyone."

"I don't care," Vegas said. He was versatile. It was stupid to miss out on sex just because you liked
to do it one way.

"Your cousin cares."

"Hey, love is love," Kinn said, digging back into his meal. "I just don't see a problem with what the
director is doing. Because the alpha couple isn't the selling point..."

Vegas searched for Pete while he mixed his noodles and was startled to find Pete already looking
at him. Waving, he mouthed a silent "hi" to Pete who mouthed back a "hello".

Oh, butterflies. Tiny, big, bouncy butterflies fluttering around in Vegas' stomach.

Pete got up from where he was sitting just as Vegas' phone rang.

"What?" Vegas said, watching Pete saunter towards him like a floating, sweaty angel in tights.

"He's here," Nop said.

"Khun-Vegas," that irritating voice sounding through the phone.

Fuck, Vegas couldn't have this conversation here. Hating himself, he got to his feet and walked
away from Pete. He fucking walked away. Fuck!

"Khun-Charlem," he said, walking down the corridor till he found an empty turn into another
corridor. "I thought we had an understanding."

"I thought about it and realized that I wasn't quite satisfied last night."

"Of course," Vegas said. "What more can I do for you?"

"I'd like to see you again to discuss further."

"Anything you want, Sir," Vegas said. "Can you please give the phone to Nop?"

"I look forward to seeing you."

"Nop?" Vegas said.

"Yes, Boss."

"Can you take out your gun?"

Vegas knew he was being obeyed when he heard Charlem's scared shout.

"Put a bullet in his left knee, please."

The sound of the gun shot followed, seconds before Charlem screamed in pain. Vegas didn't ask, or
care where they were. Fuck if they were out in the open. Vegas would have done worse if he was
right there, regardless.
"Put me on speaker."

Charlem's wails grew louder.

"Listen to me, you mewling weasel. I met with you as a courtesy to your boss. If I have to look for
you again, if I have to hear another word about that fucking contract, I will find you and make sure
that you never have another orgasm in your fucking, miserable life. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," Charlem whispered, crying.

"Nice doing business with you."

He cut the call.

When he turned around, Pete was standing behind him, leaning against the wall. He didn't even
have to ask. The last ten seconds of that call was enough to give anyone a clear picture of who
Vegas was.

He put his phone in his pocket as he walked towards Pete.

"Long day at the office?" Pete asked.

Vegas leaned, facing him.

"Like any other day," he said, refusing to feel ashamed. This was who he was. Fuck if anyone
wanted to judge him for it. "If it bothers you-"

"You don’t surprise me. I work for Phi-Kinn."

"I'm nothing like him."

"Of course you're not. His guilt is always obvious. Yours is nonexistent."

Vegas almost got defensive. But he took a moment to listen. Maybe it was wishful thinking. Maybe
he was imagining it. But Pete sounded like he approved.

"Do you have a problem with guilt?"

"No, not really."

He smiled at Vegas.

Vegas tried really hard to stop his face from smiling. But he failed. So he looked away, biting the
inside of his cheek.

"Let me get this straight," Vegas said. "You just heard me ask someone to shoot a man in the knee
and you're okay with it."

"I’ve been to prison. I can’t judge."

"Yeah, but you didn’t shoot anyone."

"Says who?"

Wow , Vegas nearly said. Because this was a sign to turn around and walk away.

Vegas usually didn’t appreciate being in the vicinity of people who enjoyed violence as much as he
did. A little bit of fear and wonder was welcome in his partners. Not someone like Pete who was
staring back at Vegas with absolutely no fear or wonder in his eyes.

Anyone like this was a red flag, on their own. Men like this always wanted things. Things that
Vegas couldn't give. And by now, after all these years, Vegas knew he should know better.

And yet... and yet.

Excited, Vegas took a step closer, watching for signs of retreat or regret. But Pete gave him
nothing

"I'll warn you, right now," Vegas said.

"Don't bother," Pete replied.

"You should know what you're getting yourself into."

"I'm well aware."

Vegas put his hand in the waistband of Pete's tights, still waiting for Pete to pull away. When Pete
didn't, Vegas dragged him closer and Pete came, easily.

"You're offering a lot without actually saying anything."

"Take all you want," Pete said.

"I'll give you ten seconds to walk away."

"Three," Pete counted.

"I mean it."

"Two."

"Pete."

"One."

Putting his hands around Vegas' neck, Pete closed his eyes and kissed Vegas.
 Under these conditions
Chapter Notes

Okay, so Porsche's character is now named "Beon" instead of "Toby".

Porsche tried not to dwell because he had rehearsals all day.

Yet, every time his eyes strayed, his chest flared to find Kinn watching him with intensity. He
couldn't help it. The need to enjoy the secret between them, to move like he'd moved the night
before, was too strong to ignore.

It had been beyond his wildest dreams. And Porsche had had dreams about it. About what he'd do,
how he'd act if Kinn ever gave him the chance. He'd been so sure of what he'd bring to table, a
night of unbridled passion, where he set Kinn's world ablaze, burning Kinn's desire in his path so
that no other lover could follow in Porsche's wake.

He'd been so sure of the ways he'd cherish the moment, how he'd kiss every inch of Kinn's body,
ride him till the sun came up and maybe, once or twice, fuck Kinn in return. In his head, Kinn
would be a canvas, set and ready for Porsche to leave his mark on.

Oh, how wrong he'd been.

Because Kinn was nobody's canvas. Kinn was a forest fire, scorching the seams of Porsche's sanity,
drowning out any possible thought as he lay in Kinn's bed, unable to make his own body move
because Kinn was all encompassing, wiping everyone else from the face of the earth till all that
Porsche could think about was Kinn's body writhing above his, his dick sliding in and out of
Porsche, hitting just right till Porsche was a gone man.

Not to mention Kinn's obsession with Porsche's nipples. He had one or the other in his mouth,
every other minute. And when his mouth was free, he was calling on Porsche, a prayer from his
lips to God's ears because Porsche could do nothing but obey.

"What's gotten into you?" Pete asked during the water break.

"Heh?" Porsche asked back.

"You're sexy."

"I am?" Porsche said, pulling his mind away from Kinn. Because Porsche could feel the heat of
Kinn's gaze, roving up and down his body.

"I like it," Pete said, appreciatively. "There were a few times that I thought you wanted to fuck me.
Bravo."

Porsche was so distracted by the compliment that was a mess after that. Porsche knew how to be
sexy. He knew how to sell a motorbike. He knew how to sell shoes. If you wanted a strong alpha
on a product, Porsche knew how to be that. But now, apparently, Porsche was... omega sexy too?

"Take a break," the director said, sighing. "We'll work on other scenes."
He knew he'd disappointed the director again. Trying to be this new kind of sexy was confusing for
Porsche. If he thought about it, it didn’t work. Maybe if he just focused on Kinn instead.

No, he couldn't do that. Kinn was not a tool. Kinn was a human being. A very handsome, sexy,
able human being who had a fiancé around the corner. Fuck! It had been a one time thing and now
that it was done with, Porsche was going to move on. He was going to have to find a way to do this
without trying to seduce Kinn every rehearsal.

Porsche didn't cry that night. Not when he wanted to, in the shower. Not in his bed. Certainly not
when he spent the entire night replaying the events of the previous night, over and over to the point
it was engraved in his head forever.

He was so fucking stupid. One time? How was one time supposed to help him? If he hadn't been in
love with Kinn before, he was now. And he was never going to get anything out of it because Kinn
would move on. And there was also the painful possibility that it was all just another night for
Kinn. Another ass to fuck.

Porsche didn't fucking cry.

Pete didn't come back to the room that night. Porsche didn't begrudge him that. Finding someone
to fuck in this place was a blessing. If Porsche had someone of his own he'd sleep in that room
instead. Fuck whatever intimacy protocol the production was trying to establish by having paired
lovers bunk together. Porsche was an actor. He had five months to get it right before the shows
began. He had five months to "fall in love" with Pete. Spending a few nights getting his back blown
out by someone else wouldn't ruin the job.

The next morning, on his way to the gym, Porsche was dragged into a broom closet and set against
the door.

"You'll want to be quiet," Kinn whispered before dropping to his knees before Porsche.

He scrambled for words, trying to understand what was happening because, surely, Porsche had to
be dreaming.

"What are you-"

Porsche's head banged against the door as Kinn lifted Porsche's dick and gave it a whole, hearty
suck. Okay, maybe it was foolish not to know where this was going, but nowhere on this planet had
it been written that Kinn would ever do something so reckless. So crazy. So divine. Fucking lord of
happiness.

Ten minutes later, when Porsche showed up to the gym, his mind was still reeling.

"Are you okay?" Pete asked.

"Yeah, yes. I am." He shook his head.

Daringly, Porsche thought of Kinn again, during rehearsal, running the day's events through his
mind. The few times he gave the director any attention, the man looked less like he wanted to
murder Porsche. Sometimes, he even looked approving.

Playing Beon opposite Tem, who was cast as the alpha emperor, was a little easier. He knew Tem.
They'd worked on a bunch of TV projects together. Unlike Porsche, this wasn't Tem's first stage
gig. He had a bit more experience. But at least, his stage experience didn't dwarf Porsche's the way
Pete's did.
Which meant that the director got exasperated with both of them, an equal amount, instead of it all
just being Porsche.

"You're the emperor's omega, Porsche," the director said. "Don't look him in the eye."

Porsche lowered his gaze, staring down at Tem's chest, with his right hand slung around Tem's
shoulder, while his left hand kept room for the audience' view. Tem was sitting on a make-shift
throne, legs out, beneath Porsche.

"Perfect," the director said. "Continue."

"It's everyday now, Your Majesty," Porsche said, breathing heavily as he thought of Kinn's hand on
his body.

"Is it?" Tem asked, plucking Porsche's hands from his body and shoving him away.

As Porsche fell back on the floor, Tem got to his feet, advancing on Porsche as Porsche crawled
backwards.

"You belong to me, Beon."

"I know that, Your Majesty."

"You exist for my pleasure. Do you understand?"

"I do."

"DO YOU?" Tem screamed.

For a moment, Porsche forgot his lines, staring up at Tem. Because this was how Tem was
supposed to be. This was how he was supposed to play the part. But something in Porsche's head
clicked as he realized that an alpha was threatening him. Pretending to be scared morphed into real
fear and then subtle anger. He wanted to scream back at Tem.

"Porsche," the director said.

Realizing that the heavy breathing Porsche was hearing was his own, he turned to the director.

"I'm sorry," he said, clearing his throat. "Let's take it again. Please. Director, I'm sorry."

"Again," the director said as Porsche got up to start again.

***

"You're doing great," Kinn said to him, when he was taking a minute outside, while other scenes
ran through.

"I am," Porsche said, standing up straight. Kinn was speaking in his normal voice, but Porsche
couldn't help remembering what he sounded like when he was excited.

"You're a beautiful omega." Kinn laughed, looking at the ground, nervously.

"Thank you," Porsche replied.

"I was sold today. Very beautiful."

Kinn looked out into the street from where they were on the balcony. Then he put his hands on his
waist. Before he dropped them and looked at Porsche.

Kinn was just as nervous as Porsche.

This was what they'd been reduced to. A pair who told each other anything, who could joke about
anything, was now just a couple of guys stifled by passionate memories.

"Okay, so I'll just head back in," Kinn said. "Pete has a scene with Time and... yep."

And he was gone.

***

Porsche was still wet from his shower when he opened the door and Kinn slipped in.

"Pete isn't here, right?" he asked, before grabbing Porsche by the towel and slamming their bodies
together.

Letting Kinn dictate their movements, Porsche was pushed back towards the bed, his towel falling
to the ground as Kinn fondled him.

A loud crash sounded when a building brick came flying to the room. They pulled apart, shocked
as they stared at it for a couple of seconds, before Kinn rushed to the window.

"Bloody, fucking protesters," Kinn said, pulling out his phone. "I'm calling security."

Porsche picked up the brick where a piece of paper had been tied to it with the words, "you will die
before you will be Beon" written across it.

"We need security in room 411. Someone just tried to hurt one of the actors."

Porsche sat back on his bed, dazed, holding the brick in his hand. This wasn't the first time he'd
received hate for any of his roles or political stances. But this time, Kinn had been in the room.
Kissing Porsche.

Porsche had to keep reminding himself that they were four floors off the ground. No one saw. No
one saw. No one saw.

"I've called Vegas and the producer. They're on their way. You should get dressed."

By the time everyone showed up, Porsche was wearing a pair of comfy trousers and a shirt. But he
was still holding the brick.

They had to pry it from his hands and even then, he could barely explain what had happened. Kinn
kept checking on him, trying to get him to answer, but Porsche was afraid of what he'd say. "I was
kissing Kinn when the brick came flying into my room" was not the best set of words for his
future.

As soon as the hotel staff and the play's producers were gone, Porsche was left with Vegas and
Kinn in the room.

"Phi-Kinn, can you give us a moment?"

"Sure," Kinn said. "Good night, Porsche."

Porsche nodded, watching him leave.

As soon as the door closed, Porsche looked at Vegas.

"Damn it, Porsche," Vegas said quietly.

Porsche gulped and averted his eyes.

"Do you have any idea how fucked you are if this gets out?"

"It was one time."

"Let's pretend I have a brain, for one second."

"Vegas-"

"What was he doing here so late? Why was the front of his clothes wet and yet you're the one who
looks like you just had a shower."

"It was spontaneous and it just-"

"It isn't going to happen again. Do you understand me?"

Porsche would have agreed if there was no chance of Kinn wanting him back. But he'd tasted
Kinn's desire. He knew what was bubbling beneath the surface. Porsche was not going to give that
up now.

"Porsche."

"No," he said, looking Vegas in the eye.

Vegas pushed away from the wall, radiating fury.

"Let me walk you through the possible shit show you're setting up for yourself."

Porsche got up and paced away from his bed.

"People find out your fucking Kinn when Kinn only fucks omegas, they'll assume you're an omega.
Guess what?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Guess anyway."

"No one will find out."

"When the omega rumors surface... AGAIN... you'll be forced to submit to another presentation
examination, at which point your condition will be revealed."

"You're being dramatic."

"You think the entertainment world will eat you up for what they find out, just wait till Kinn finds
out."

Porsche turned away from Vegas, resisting the urge to punch him.

"He won't care."

"Then I'm assuming you told him. He knows the condition you were treating that kept you off the
market for two fucking years, right?" Vegas asked. "Because that is something you're supposed to
disclose to your partners before you start fucking them."

"Give me a break, for fucksake," Porsche said. "What do you want? You want me to go tell him
right now? Fine."

As Porsche headed for the door, Vegas grabbed him by the hand, leaning into him.

"Wait," he said. "Think of what you're doing."

"I'll tell him the truth."

"You'll break him, Porsche."

To that, Porsche had absolutely nothing to say. What the hell? If it wasn't for the words itself, for
the manner in which Vegas spoke, almost like he was begging Porsche. Which, Vegas almost
never did. Not recently.

"You know what he's like when he's in love."

"He's not in love with me."

"He's always been obsessed with you. Do you imagine what he's going through now that you've
added sex to the mix?"

Porsche pulled his arm out of Vegas' grasp.

"What do you want me to do then?"

"I want you to stop," Vegas said. "I want you to cut this off before it gets any worse than it already
is because you can't tell him the truth."

"But-"

"You know his history. You know what happened to him the last time. I can't even believe that you
would do this when you know-"

"He'll understand."

Vegas rubbed his forehead.

"Oh, high school flashbacks," he said. "This is not about a broken bike. This is real life. You think
Kinn is some forgiving god, but he's not. He's a human being and he will not understand when he
finds out."

Porsche shook head.

"No."

"I mean it."

"If it was you, would you stop?" Porsche asked. "If it was someone you've wanted so much that
sometimes you couldn't breathe in their presence, would you let go if there was a chance that they
felt even a modicum of what you were feeling for them?"
"This is not about me."

"It's not?" Porsche asked.

"This is about you and Kinn."

"Which is why you should listen because I'm only going to say this once," Porsche said. "You will
never bring this up again. You will never discuss me with Kinn. You will walk out of this room
and pretend that you don't see anything. Or, I swear to god, I will never speak to you again."

Vegas frowned, taking a step back.

"You don't mean that."

"Don't I?"

"Even if you hate me, I'm still your manager."

"No, you're not. As you always like to remind me, Toss is my manager. I'm just an artist in your
company, remember?"

Vegas licked his lips, barely concealing a sneer as he stormed out of the room.

Porsche collapsed on his bed, tears flowing down his face. Because he couldn't believe he'd just
said that to Vegas. Because of Kinn. But who could blame him? This was Kinn. If Vegas dangled
Kinn's feelings in front of Porsche, how did he expect Porsche to walk away now? Because if Kinn
was on his way to loving Porsche, there was no way Porsche was going to be able to stop.

Not now. Probably not ever.

 Guilty pleasures

Kinn sipped his coffee on the balcony the next morning. Porsche was still a little shaken up from
the incident when he showed up in Kinn's room the night before. He didn't want to talk about it.
He didn't look like he wanted to fuck. He'd just buried himself underneath the covers and hadn't
moved.

Which was normal. Or, at least, it used to be.

But last night, Kinn hadn't been able to climb in after him. Because "Porsche" plus "bed", didn't
equal "just friends" anymore. There was a chance that if Kinn got in that bed, Kinn would
misbehave. And considering how... pliable... Porsche had become, Kinn didn't think Porsche
would say no. Even if he didn't want sex.

He mourned what they'd had before. Being a safe space for Porsche was Kinn's thing. It had
always been. But now, he felt like a leering pervert, unable to even look at Porsche without seeing
a naked man, without seeing him on his back, legs spread, eyes drooping with desire.

Kinn slept on the chair till morning.

As he drank his coffee, he looked down and saw Vegas, looking up at Porsche's window. He
wasn't moving. He almost looked like a statue with his feet apart, his hands in his pockets and his
head tilted up.

Vegas was such a weird nut.

Kinn put on a sweater and sneakers, and went down.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Porsche is four floors above the ground," Vegas said.

"Right," Kinn agreed, trying to imagine how anyone would get a stone up there, much less with
such accurate aim. "That's strange."

"Right?" Vegas said. "But look at the east wing of the hotel," he said, pointing at the window
opposite Porsche's. "Twenty, twenty-five feet away from our side of the hotel, don't you think?"

Kinn turned to the other building.

"Easier to toss a stone across than from the ground."

"Is what I was thinking," Vegas said.

"Okay then," Kinn said. “Why aren’t you doing anything?”

"Because I'm not sure if I want to."

For crying out loud , Kinn thought.

"You and Porsche are fighting again."

For a moment, Vegas' eyes darkened sharply. Kinn's heart sank at the thought that Vegas knew
about him and Porsche. But the look didn't last. One second it was there, the next it vanished like a
fragment of Kinn's imagination.

Vegas took out his phone and dialed.

"What happened?" Kinn asked, following Vegas to the front of the hotel.

But Vegas ignored him.

"Hey, Nop, I need your help... yes... get me something on Graham Blitz Hotel."

Kinn rolled his eyes. Of course Vegas would have contingencies on his contingencies. The hotel
had already issued a statement, blaming the attack on protesters. But if Vegas was worried there
was more to it, then going through the hotel would be a waste of everybody's time and energy.

They walked to the front desk, greeting the women standing there with smiles.

"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" one of them asked.

"We're with Ohmovit Productions," Kinn said.

Which wasn't technically a lie. Ohmovit was in charge of the entire thing, and even though Kinn
and Vegas weren't staff, they were all there under Ohmovit's umbrella.

"Do you need anything?"

"We'd like to know who is in the sixth room from the front, in the center-east wing. On the fourth
floor."

Still smiling, she said, "I'm sorry, but we cannot give out information about other guests."

"But Ohmovit booked half of this hotel."

"On the west wing, Sir. The east wing has other guests and unless your queries concern other
Ohmovit guests, we cannot disclose that information."

"Right," Vegas said, moving forward and turning his phone to face the woman. "So this is
something you people don't want going out, right?"

Kinn couldn't help the exasperated smile. He was sure he'd have gotten the woman to give them
the information if he had more time, but Vegas was an impatient son-of-a-bitch.

"Sir-"

"Tell us who was in that room or these pictures are hitting prime time."

Nothing women shared worried looks, before the woman they were speaking to started clicking
away at her laptop.

"It's empty now, Sir."

"Who was there last night?"

She clicked some more.

"No name, Sir. He arrived last night, paid in cash and left this morning."

"Do you have cameras in that hallway?"

The women looked at each other again.

"I still have these photos," Vegas reminded them.

"This way, Sir."

As the woman with them walked around the desk, the other one took her place. When Kinn moved
to follow, Vegas stopped him.

"You’ll slow me down."

"Come on-"

"I'll let you know if I find something."

Vegas followed the woman, leaving Kinn standing in the middle of the arrival hall.

***

Kinn didn't bring it up with Porsche. It was Vegas' investigation. Vegas’ artist. Vegas’ business.
So, when Vegas disappeared from camp for days, Kinn shrugged and said, "I don't know where he
is."

Porsche didn't like it. He was antsy about it, but he didn't call Vegas or ask about it more than
once.

***

The intimacy workshop was scheduled for the fourth week of camp, but the actors were already
getting along just fine. Kinn had seen Pete develop chemistry with men and women that Pete
couldn't stand. People that, once they were off stage, Pete distanced himself from.

But with Porsche, Pete was a whole different person. They danced, they played, they ran around
the building like a couple of kids. Pete, who was a responsible adult, was getting caught with ice
cream that he wasn't supposed to have, because Porsche had cravings.

The second weekend in camp was the promotional photoshoot. Vegas had been gone for days but
Porsche had Toss. An eager-to-please manager was perfect for a spoilt artist like Porsche.

"Okay, okay, everyone. Singles, first."

Each cast member, dressed in traditional Thai attire, reminiscent of the time "Overheat" was set,
took turns, going in front of the camera. Clear background, simple half shots, followed by full body
shots.

Then they moved over to a group shot with the four mains. Tem was placed on a throne, with Time
at his left side. Time's hand was on Tem's shoulder. Porsche sat on the right arm of the throne with
Pete just behind him.

The next set was Pete and Porsche, with the director swapping out the throne for a set of pillows.

"Just look at me," Pete said, as Porsche lay on his back, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.
"Let me handle it."

"It's uncomfortable."
"A job is meant to be."

"This isn't helping."

Pete laughed, crawling over Porsche, as Porsche watched him.

"Ignore them," Pete said. "It's just you and me."

"It's a room full of people."

Lifting the beads around Porsche's neck, Pete sat back, as Porsche leaned up, still looking at him.

"Have you ever been with an omega?"

"Not that I know of, no."

He leaned into Porsche's ear, whispering words that Kinn couldn't bear from way out where he was
standing. When Pete moved away, Porsche was staring at Pete, his mouth agape.

Smiling at him, placing a kiss on Porsche's bare chest, Pete held the pose as he photographer took
pictures, moving about.

Kinn couldn't hear what they were talking about, but he could see Porsche loosening up, letting
Pete move him around. As male omegas, their attires had been altered to include more beads, less
fabric, giving the audience more to look at. When Porsche spread his legs for Pete, his wraps slid
open, revealing more of his legs. He tried to cover it, but Pete gently pushed his hand away.

The director, smart man, let them work, choosing to step in very few times, for fear of ruining the
flow. Because every time he added a note, it pulled Porsche out from under Pete's spell. So he let
them work, with minimal input.

By the time they were done, Kinn's throat was dry. Because, if that was what it looked like to see
Porsche get handled by someone else... wow. A strange feeling. Kinn liked it, but he also didn't?

Stamping on the rearing head of jealousy, Kinn reminded himself that Porsche was not his. Kinn
had a fiancé. Porsche could do whatever the fuck he wanted. This thing between them was
supposed to be a one-time thing. Never mind the fact that Porsche had been sleeping in Kinn's
room, every other day, since that first time.

Eventually, reality would set in. Eventually, they'd leave this camp. Kinn would get married.
Porsche would move on and probably marry some billionaire to fund his many activism
campaigns.

If Vegas allowed it.

Either way Kinn and Porsche weren't headed towards each other. The best he could hope for was
what they had at camp. And even then, Kinn wasn't so sure he deserved any of it.

"Alpha set," the director said, as people moved the throne back in place.

Tay arrived at Kinn's side, stretching and wringing his arms, with a determined look on his face.

"Prepping for battle?" Kinn asked.

"Hell yes."
"It's a fucking photoshoot."

"And my boys are going to be sexy as fuck."

"Not this again."

"Did you not watch the mini-porno that the omegas just put on?"

"Nobody wants to see a couple of alphas hump each other."

Tay scoffed.

"Speak for yourself."

Tay wouldn't let the director rest.

"Shouldn't they get closer?"

"Tem, put your hands in Time's lap."

"Time, grab his neck."

"Can you two give me something more sexy?"

It irked Kinn to see alphas peddled this way. People didn't choose who to love. But seeing Time in
Tem's lap, his body splayed towards the camera as he lounged back against Tem, like a...

Kinn didn't want to use unkind words. Time was a good person. And a friend. And this was just a
job.

"Phi-Tay is a menace," Pete said, arriving beside Kinn, wiping make-up from his face.

"Every single day."

"He's doing better than the director."

"Is he?" Kinn asked.

"It's sexy."

"It's two alphas."

"You've dated an alpha before."

"Which is why I know it's weird."

"It’s not always like that."

"It’s not?"

"I thought you were open-minded enough not to judge a whole group by a singular experience."

"Tell me you're not judging alpha relationships based on your own personal experience as an…” he
leaned closer and whispered. “Omega.”

"You say that like omegas are unproblematic."

"What do you think happens when you put two alphas in a relationship?" Kinn asked.

"Traditionalists only care about alpha dominance when romance and sex are involved,” Pete said,
leaning on Kinn. “Tell me, Phi-Kinn, how many times have you made your omega mother
submit?"

“That’s different.”

“It’s really not,” Pete said, smiling slyly.

"I've never met an alpha willing to submit to another alpha in a relationship."

"You did."

Kinn lost the words to reply, his whole body going stiff at what Pete had just said.

"We dated before I presented as an alpha, and when I did-"

"You stayed in that relationship for eight more months." Pete hooked his hands into Kinn’s and
placed his head on Kinn’s shoulder. "I know what Khun-Korn told the press, but you didn't break
up as soon as you became an alpha. You stayed."

"I was a kid. I didn't know what I was doing."

"Of course you didn't," Pete said. "It doesn't matter, anyway. The posters will be picked by the
director and look at him." Pete nodded in the director's direction. "He's into it."

To Kinn's horror, the director was behind Tay, engrossed in what was happening, whispering to
Tay like he was buying into all of it.

Damn it.

"Don't worry," Pete patted Kinn's shoulders. "You can close your eyes whenever you see a poster
with the emperor and his sexy bodyguard."

"How's it going?" Porsche said, standing at Kinn's other shoulder, water dripping from his chin, a
towel around his neck.

Pete removed his hand from Kinn’s.

"I’m going to eat," Pete said, walking away.

"You know," Porsche said, moving closer to Kinn, letting their shoulders brush against each other.
"I'm free after lunch."

"Really?" Kinn asked, feigning shock.

"If you want to go upstairs."

Kinn licked his lips, looking at Porsche's. It was inhumanely pink. It wasn't fair. Kinn was trying to
keep a clear head, here.

"Do we even need lunch?" Kinn asked.

"Not me."
"Me neither."

Smiling, Porsche walked backwards, headed for the door. When he turned around and left, Kinn
didn’t even wait two seconds before he ran right behind him.
 into the lion's den

Pete never met Daye. Even though their interactions were by burner phone, Pete was always within
eyesight of the broken, tarred wall he'd chosen for Daye. It was for a simple job. Daye just had to
get in and get out. As per the agreement, Daye would find his payment stuck in the wall when it
was all over.

Pete needed a moment alone in Vegas’ room but he couldn’t get into that room anytime he wanted.
Vegas was a Theerapanyakul. Having worked with Kinn for years, Pete knew that he moved with
unseen bodyguards. The bodyguards didn’t approach and they didn’t engage, unless there was
danger or some reason to speak to Kinn in person. It took Pete almost a year before he realized that
Kinn had shadows who moved when he moved.

He couldn’t take the chance of Vegas living the same way. If he went skulking around that room
when Vegas wasn’t there, his cover would be blown. Therefore, he had to be in the room when
Vegas went out of the room, leaving Pete alone.

That day, after his plans had been set in motion, Pete spent dinner at the table with Porsche, Time
and Tem. He knew Vegas was watching. It was shocking how easily Vegas was drawn to Pete.
Pete was used to being the object of people’s sexual focus. In a business where he was marketed as
an omega, most of his colleagues, most of the producers and directors, most people tended to look
beyond what they knew about him, choosing to see an acceptable “omega”.

After all, he was seen as a beta. He was palatable enough to work with. But with the added bonus
of his self-expression, they could objectify him the way they would an omega. They could leer at
him, openly want him, loom over him, like they would an omega. By telling themselves that Pete
was the way he was, only because of his job, that Pete moved the way he moved, looked the way
he did, because he took on omega roles, they could turn off their brains and associate him with
being an omega, without having to pursue him from the workplace.

But with Vegas, it was different. Because Pete hadn’t even done anything before Vegas was
looking at him, watching him like he wanted to photograph every one of Pete’s movements. Pete
had never been with someone so present, in the moment. Always with his eyes open, watching
Pete, even when they were intimate, times when he’d thought Vegas would close his eyes, Vegas
remained alert, careful, bordering on vigilant.

“What do you want?” he asked, that first day, hands wrapped around Pete’s waist like he didn’t
want to let go, even if it was to take their clothes off.

With the way he wanted to cater to Pete, to please Pete, asking questions, withdrawing when Pete
reacted with minimal discomfort, Pete didn’t have to imagine what sort of sexual partners Vegas
had ever had. Because it almost seemed like he had an obsession with Pete’s satisfaction. A trait
that Pete recognized. It was familiar, the way Vegas handled him, with precise movements,
spending so much time on Pete’s reaction than actually feeling anything.

Pete knew what that was.

He used to be that way when he was in prison, pleasing everyone else to survive, learning to
control his body and his urges so that he didn’t burst too soon and leave someone unsatisfied. It
was odd to see such behavior in an alpha: not to talk of one so powerful as Vegas Theerapanyakul.
Pete could not understand it.
He enjoyed it, though. That first night, letting Vegas pull orgasm after orgasm out of him, till Pete
was numb with pleasure.

“How was it?” he’d asked, when they were lying in bed, after he’d just tossed the condom in the
trash.

Vegas was looking up at the ceiling, but Pete was turned on his side, watching Vegas, wondering
how to answer. Because a man like this didn’t become this way for no reason. It was a product of
years and years of conditioning, of being with partners whose pleasure he had to secure, whose
pleasure he deemed more important than his.

Pete could use this. A powerful man who was eager to please? Such a currency never ran out of
value.

“It was alright,” he said, knowing that it was mind-blowing. But Vegas didn’t need to know that.

Vegas turned to him, a frown on his face. His pride was hurt. He was also confused. He’d expected
rave reviews. He was probably used to getting anything he wanted after he’d fucked people’s
brains into oblivion. He also, probably didn’t expect Pete to be this coherent, moments after sex.
Maybe he always gave it so good that his partners had to sleep off the fatigue before a sensible
conversation could be had.

“Come,” Pete said, pulling Vegas into his arms.

“What are you doing?” Vegas' muffled voice sounded against Pete’s chest.

“Sleeping.”

“We need to shower.”

“Close your eyes, Khun-Vegas,” Pete said, softly, running his fingers through Vegas’ hair.
“You’ve done well.” Vegas needed to hear that. But men like Vegas, they never thought of their
own well-being. Not emotionally. “Do you know you did well?”

Vegas didn’t answer.

Pete didn’t need him to answer. He needed Vegas to cool off, to get comfortable, to sleep.
Humming gently, he massaged Vegas’ head, and back of his neck. Even mean, powerful men
needed a little tender loving, sometimes. Considering how tense Vegas was in Pete’s hands, he’d
probably never felt this before. Never had someone hold him till the tension eased right out of his
body.

Just like it was doing, as Vegas’ breathing began to mellow and Vegas’ slipped his hands
underneath and above Pete, as well. Pulling Pete close, he held on, his face still buried in Pete’s
chest. And that was how they spent that first night.

Even though Pete had been hoping for a chance to snoop, the sleeping Vegas wouldn’t let go.

Which was why Pete needed Vegas out of the room BEFORE anything actually happened.

The next night, Pete dallied at the dinner table, looking at his watch, knowing that Vegas was
waiting for him. He had to time it just right so that he would already be in the room when it
happened, but they wouldn’t have actually started fucking yet. When he was ready, he got his bag,
dropped off his plate and headed up. Vegas was right there, eating outside his room for Pete. They
hadn’t even made it one minute into the room before Vegas’ phone was ringing.
“Uh…” he said, hands clenching into Pete’s back, like he didn’t want to let go. “I have to go.”

“Where? What’s going on?” Pete asked.

“I’ll tell you when I get back.”

As soon as he was gone, Pete ran to his bag to get the gadgets Wan had given to him. He put a bug
on Vegas’ laptop, one behind the head of the bed and underneath the table. If Daye had done his
job, if he’d booked the hotel room like Pete instructed and thrown the brick right through, then
Vegas would be a while, as they waited for hotel staff to show up.

By the time Vegas returned, Pete was sitting at the center of the bed, his legs folded in as he played
games on his phone.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Vegas said, a scowl on his face.

“What happened?”

“Someone threw a brick through Porsche’s window.” He looked at Pete. “Through your room
window, in fact.”

“Oh my god, is Porsche alright?” Pete asked, kneeling up in the bed.

“He’s fine.” Vegas kicked off his shoes. “Foolish and fucking frustrating, but fine.”

He didn’t elaborate, but Pete didn’t care. He’d succeeded in his plans to bug Vegas’ room. Daye
had earned that pay. If he was smart, he’d check out of that room before the morning came.

***

Pete didn’t even have time to reap the benefits of the previous night, because, not only did Vegas
disappear from that room for the next nine days, but he left his laptop behind. Pete watched and
waited, hoping that Vegas would come back, but he never did. When he asked Kinn, Kinn said he
had no idea.

So, Pete called him.

“What?” Vegas said.

“Hello to you, too,” Pete said.

“Oh my god, Pete.” His voice completely changed, “Hi.”

“I stole your number from Phi-Kinn’s phone.”

Vegas laughed.

“Wow, I haven’t heard your voice in ages.”

“Is this how you do it?” Pete asked. “Love ‘em and leave ‘em?”

“What? No,” Vegas said. “It’s not like that. I just… I had a few things to take care of. I was
looking for someone.”

“Where are you?” Pete asked.

He needed to know because Wan would want results, soon. And Pete had nothing.

“Why? What happened?”

“I want to see you.”

“Oh,” he said, sounding uncertain. “Well… I’m at home right now.”

“Invite me over.”

“I don’t know if you want to come over now. I have a noisy house guest..”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Pete.”

“Are you doing something you shouldn’t be doing?” Pete teased.

“I’m always doing something I shouldn’t be doing.”

Pete laughed.

“Fine,” he said. “I don’t want to bother you.”

“Bother me,” Vegas said. “I like the bother. It’s just-”

“You can’t invite me over.”

“I’m working right now.”

“I’ll try not to get in the way.”

The phone was silent for a few moments as Pete gave Vegas a chance to think it over.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll text you the address.”

As soon as Pete cut the call, he jumped into action.

Pete was done for the day. His photoshoot session was over and it was still Saturday. While others
had their pictures taken, Pete had free time. With no rehearsals scheduled for Sunday, Pete
wouldn’t need to be at camp till Monday morning.

This was his chance. He packed clothes, suppressants and toiletries. But knowing that this wasn’t
just a fun trip, Pete put in a few tech-toys too. After all, if Vegas spent more time in his house than
at camp, then Vegas’ home would be the best place to leave a few bugs.
 The truth about Pete

From his dungeon, shirtless and covered in specks of blood that had splattered on Vegas during his
interrogation, Vegas watched Pete through the camera placed in the corner, above the door.
Clicking the door open, a small bust of sound escaped as the door popped open for Pete to enter.

Vegas turned to the bleeding man in his dungeon, the one who was laid out on a slab, naked and
crying, his voice hoarse from screaming. The room wasn’t flooded with light like it usually was
when Vegas was working. Instead, he only had the overhead bulbs turned on, casting dim beams
around the room, barely illuminating the pillars that rose from floor to ceiling and the separate bars
that held chains that fell from the ceiling to the floor.

Vegas had peeled off most of the man’s skin on the back of his right leg during the interrogation.
He’d be sore for the rest of his life, but he’d still walk. He’d been hired by a man he never saw or
knew, to throw a brick through the hotel window. He’d been paid in cash and that was the extent of
his knowledge. The fact that he belonged to a tiny gang that was on the outskirts of Bangkok told
Vegas more than he’d hoped.

Because, who else would be careful enough to hire an outsider, than someone whose voice would
be recognized by any of the gangs within Bangkok?

Even with the extent of his information, Vegas hadn’t let the man go. He had some issues to work
out. Irritated with Porsche, Vegas picked at the man’s skin, carefully pouring his frustration into
hurting this unassuming creature.

Vegas switched cameras, showing Pete walking down the corridor. When Pete got to the end, he
stood at the center of the corridor, looking between two doors. One of those doors led straight into
Vegas’ room. The other one led into the dungeon where Vegas was.

He was tempted to see what Pete would do if he brought him in there. After all, Pete had behaved
like he didn’t care that Vegas was ruthless. He imagined what Pete would think if he got to see
Vegas in his element, hands dripping with the blood of the man who was crying for help in front of
him.

Would Pete run? Would Pete approach? Would he be scared? Would he not care?

Vegas pressed the button that opened his room door, unable to face which would be worse. Finding
out that Pete was just as scared as everyone else? Or finding out that Pete was just as rotten as
Vegas was?

Vegas wiped his hands on his pants as he picked his phone, pressing the towel into the crying
mouth of the man on the table.

“Yes, Boss?” Nop said.

“I want you to find out everything about someone for me?”

“Who?”

“Pete Saengthem?”

“Kinn’s Pete?”
“He doesn’t belong to Kinn.”

“You know what I mean, Boss.”

“Just get it done.”

As he cut the call, he pulled on a shirt and removed the towel from the man’s mouth.

“If you’re quiet the rest of the night, I’ll let you go, tomorrow,” Vegas whispered to the man. “Will
you be quiet for me?”

The man nodded.

“Good boy.”

***

Vegas missed kissing Pete. One would have thought they’d been doing it for years with how well
they fit together, wrapped around each other, not bothering with the bed that was just a few feet
away. Personally, Vegas didn’t care that they were on the floor. He was still sweaty and hadn’t
washed off the blood on his body. But Pete, he seemed cleaner. He smelled cleaner too, his natural
scent wafting into Vegas’ nose, making him desperate to bury his nose in Pete’s neck.

Moaning, he bit Pete’s neck as Pete jerked, leaning away. The sudden movement jarred Vegas
from the haze of seduction that Pete seemed to carry with him as he stared down at Pete, whose
hands were no longer buried in Vegas’ hair. While one covered his neck, the other pressed against
Vegas. They were so close that Vegas could feel the fear coming off of Pete, his heart hammering
in his chest like he was seconds away from bolting right out of the room.

“Hey,” Vegas said, opening his mouth. “Look. Regular teeth,” he said. “I’m not rutting.”

“Don’t do that,” Pete said, chest heaving, rapidly.

“I wasn’t…” Vegas pushed off of Pete. “I don’t do that to people. I wasn’t going to.”

“You shouldn’t.” Pete sat up.

“Pete, calm down. It’s just normal teeth. I’m on suppressants, remember?”

Hands quivering, Pete blinked, trying to understand what Vegas was saying.

“You’ve been gone from camp for a week. Why are you still on suppressants?”

“Because I was planning to come back?” he asked. “I’m not an irresponsible child.”

Pete got up, rubbing his hands around his neck as he picked up his bag and took it to Vegas’ bed.
He sat beside the bag, still holding his neck.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have overreacted.”

“No, it’s fine,” Vegas said, crawling to Pete and sitting at his feet as he held them. “I’d freak out if
a rutting alpha tried to bite me, too.”

“You wouldn’t do that to me.”

“I wouldn’t.”
“I ruined the mood,” Pete cussed, burying his face in his lap.

“Speak for yourself. I’m still ready to go.”

Pete laughed, looking down on Vegas as he pulled his legs out from Vegas grasp so that he could
slide down from the bed into Vegas’ lap. Vegas moaned as Pete moved against his erection,
adjusting himself so that Pete could lean back on the bed.

When Pete kissed him again, Vegas wanted to kiss him back. But he could feel the shakiness of
Pete’s hold on his neck. He’d still not calmed down. Pete wasn’t enjoying the kiss. Vegas thrived
on excited partners and the man in his lap was anything but.

Leaning back, he stopped the kiss, but made no move to extract himself from Pete’s embrace.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

Pete was confused for a second, like he hadn’t expected that. Like he thought Vegas would just
ignore what had happened between them.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re shaking,” he said, pulling one of Pete’s hands into his own as Pete looked down at their
entwined hands. “I’m not going to force you to have sex you’re not in the mood for.”

“I am in the mood.”

Vegas took his other hand and slid it between them, cupping Pete’s dick and looking him in the eye
as Pete flinched.

“I wouldn’t have invited you if I was on my cycle, Pete. That’s fucked up.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

Sighing, Pete fell against the bed, looking up at the ceiling.

“I came here to get fucked, Khun-Vegas.”

“Can you not call me that anymore?”

“What am I supposed to call you?”

“Vegas?”

Pete looked at him.

“What if I like calling you “Khun-Vegas”?”

“Why?”

“It’s sexy,” Pete said with a shrug.

Vegas couldn’t help the blush he knew was traveling up his neck and into his face, so he looked
away.

“Don’t be weird.”
“Why? Because you’re being disrespectful by calling me “Pete”?”

“Do you want me to call you “Phi-Pete”?”

Pete dragged him back, placing their foreheads together.

“Call me whatever you want and I’ll call you whatever I want.”

“You’re trying to change the subject.”

“I am, so let me.”

He kissed Vegas, and this time, there was no shaking or nervousness. Opening his mouth and
sliding his tongue into Vegas’ Pete took control of the kiss, removing Vegas’ hand from his dick as
he set it behind Vegas so that Vegas could lean on both hands to support them. Gently, Pete
grinded into Vegas, kissing him on the jaw as Vegas closed his eyes. Pete licked him on the chin
before he kissed him again, raising himself up and down, humping against Vegas as Vegas began
to feel the bulge of Pete’s erection beneath his shorts.

“Pete,” he moaned.

“Stop…” Pete whispered in Vegas’ ear. “Stop… thinking… too much.”

He wanted to. He really did. But that wasn’t Vegas’ way. He couldn't remember a time when he
was in such a position and wasn’t in control of it. Because he was the one who held pleasure in his
hands. He was the one who thought things through.

“Let me make you cum, Khun-Vegas,” Pete said, picking up the pace, bracing one knee on the
floor as he hastened the friction between them, as Vegas opened his eyes to look into Pete’s. “Let
go.”

What harm could it do , Vegas wondered. They were in his home. He had all the power. He wasn’t
in danger. He didn’t need anything from Pete. If he let go and he allowed himself to be pleasured,
Vegas wouldn’t be losing anything.

“Just let go,” Pete said.

And just like that, Vegas let go.

***

Vegas fucked Pete on the floor. And then Pete rode Vegas on the bed. A strange feeling, giving
and taking like a transaction between Vegas and himself. Vegas and someone so very much like
him that sometimes, when Vegas was looking into Pete’s eyes, he felt like he was looking in a
mirror.

As Pete’s breathing began mellowing into slumber, Vegas’ phone vibrated in his pants, just by the
bed. He knew they both ought to get up and clean up, but Vegas’ bones felt like jelly. Pulling
himself out from under Pete, Vegas stretched to his pants, dragged it and removed his phone.

“What?”

“Okay,” Nop said. “So, he spent five years in prison for a bunch of stuff, not including the foster
father he killed in self-defense. He’s been with Khun-Kinn since he got out at twenty-one. Keeps to
himself, mostly.”
“Could he be a problem for me?”

“Business-wise or because he’s currently snoring in your bed, Boss?”

Vegas thought about it.

“Both.”

“Well, he’s not a problem for you, business-wise. No ties to police or government bodies.”

“Maybe he got turned in prison?”

“He’s been with Khun-Kinn for almost a decade, Boss. If he was a mole, we’d have known. Khun-
Kinn trusts him because his hands are clean. He doesn't snoop, doesn’t care, doesn’t ask about shit.
He just does his job and minds his business.”

“Maybe he’s after me now.”

“Took him eight years to go after you, Boss. Seems like too long a game to set up.”

Vegas looked at Pete, trying not to question why this bit of information was making his heart
swell. He barely knew Pete. By all accounts, this man was a stranger. Vegas shouldn’t be feeling
this way.

“So he’s good?”

“Except one thing, Boss.”

Vegas’ heart sank.

“What?”

“This is just speculation. But his yearly examinations used to be done in public hospitals when he
first became an actor. Just like everyone with a public job. But from what I’m seeing, five years
ago, he started having his examinations at the main family’s hospital. His records since then, have
come from us.”

Vegas flinched, remembering how Pete had nearly jumped out of his skin at the thought of an
alpha biting him.

“Oh fuck,” Vegas said, rubbing his eyes.

“Yes, Boss. If he was a beta, he wouldn’t care. If he was an alpha, he wouldn’t need that kind of
privacy.”

“So you’re saying he’s an omega?”

“That’s the assumption, Sir. His public record shows a public hospital, but his real record shows
that he gets his exams with us.”

“Thanks, Nop.”

He cut the call, dropping his phone as he brushed Pete’s hair from his forehead, listening to the
quiet snores he was emitting. He really was beautiful. And smart. And strong. Fuck, Vegas wanted
him even more. Left to him, he’d take Pete away from the rest of the world, lock him in safety
where no one could mistakenly bite him and seal his fate forever.
But that wasn’t what Pete wanted. Pete was a dedicated actor. He was his own man. He would hate
being sequestered away. He knew how to do his job which was why he was one of Kinn’s best
artists. The bravery to stand before thousands of people every week, playing the role of omega,
after omega, living right under people’s noses, was the most bad ass shit Vegas had ever seen.

Lowering himself back to bed, he coiled in on Pete’s sleeping form, watching him as the morning
rays filtered in from the blinds. What a coincidence. What luck. That Vegas had managed to find
someone so precious, so perfect as Pete Saegnthem.
 Contagious Cycle Disorder

Pete didn't come back on Saturday night or Sunday, but Porsche was relieved to find him by the
bus on Monday morning.

"I told you I'd be here," Pete said, smiling widely as Porsche followed him into the bus.

Making their way through the city, with the director, Toss and Kinn in the minibus, they chatted
lightly. By the time they got to Ghome Radio, there was a large crowd of fans outside the building,
holding up signs of support, standing directly opposite the compulsory presence of antis who were
chanting, "same love, fake love" with rehearsed vitriol.

Waving to the fans, ignoring the haters, their small entourage went into the building with security.
They sat in the boot, getting fitted with headphones as their microphones were adjusted. Porsche
felt a slight crick in his neck. Rubbing it, he wondered if he should take his suppressants.

Immediately, Porsche stopped moving.

"Fuck," he said, as Pete looked at Porsche, frowning.

"What is it?"

"I'm fine."

He could send Toss back, but the traffic would be in full effect. The interview was an hour, with
two five-minute breaks. If he waited, they’d be done by the time Toss was heading back to the
studio. Porsche crossed his hands over his chest. He’d have to wait it out. He could. He could. He
could. Biology was a bitch, but damn it if Porsche had choices.

No one was going to hand out Supplimax without a prescription so Toss couldn’t get it from
around. Fuck!

"You're hot," Pete said, touching Porsche's forehead.

As he did so, the crowd of studio viewers outside the boot made an "awww" sound, drawing Pete
and Porsche's attention. Fucking fan service.

"Are you okay?" Pete asked, leaning into Porsche's space.

"They're going to say we're kissing now, Pete," Porsche said.

"What's going on? I need my co-pilot."

"I'll be okay."

***

Porsche kept cracking his fingers all through the interview. His nerves were more of a problem
than anything. If he hadn’t remembered his suppressants, he would have been fine for another
couple of hours. His last dose had been on Sunday afternoon. He’d be fine. He’d just need to take a
shot, instead of a tablet.

He drank water. He played with the biscuits. He tried to concentrate on the questions.
But then Pete placed a calming hand on Porsche's leg, underneath the table.

Relieved to have such an understanding co-star, Porsche smiled at Pete.

"Porsche can tell you better," Pete said.

Blinking, Porsche looked away from Pete's face. Behind the show host, the fans were taking
videos. They were going to love the fact that Porsche hadn't been listening and he'd been looking at
Pete. Porsche could already see the video captions: Porsche can't take his eyes off of Pete. They
must be in love.

"Uh... what did you say?"

"I asked what you think of Kittisak's inclusion of the omega bite in "Overheat"."

Porsche shrugged.

"What about it?"

Jared, the thin, tall host with a buzzcut, said, "What do you have to say to people who think the
omega bite is over-played in “Overheat”."

"I’d say they should get in a room with an omega in heat and talk to me after.”

"You don’t think the only bite that matters in a relationship is the alpha? After all, regardless of
gender, every child will be the alpha's."

"What if an omega wants to sire children?" Porsche asked. "Beon in "Overheat" wants his own
children. Are you saying that he can't have them because he's an omega?"

"Omega females give birth to children all the time."

"As an omega male, is he exempt?"

"If he wants children he should find an alpha female."

Porsche hadn't even known his hands were shaking until Pete held his hands, clasping them
together and massaging gentle knots into the back of Porsche's hands.

"Have you read "Overheat" before?" Pete asked Jared.

"In high school."

"What did you think of it?"

"I loved it. By downplaying the omega-alpha romance, Kitisak was able to explore romance
without imposing dynamics and inherent power imbalances."

“Right?” Pete agreed. “I feel like…”

Porsche zoned out a bit, enjoying what Pete was doing with his hands. He wanted to concentrate on
what Jared was saying, but Porsche figured it was best to just let go. After all, Pete was doing a
great job without Porsche’s interference.

***
During the break, Pete got up, smiling from ear to ear, as he held Porsche’s hand firmly and led
him to the bathroom. Because that would be good for the fans, if not Porsche’s atrocious behavior.

As soon as they were inside, Pete locked the door and opened his inner jacket to reveal a strap that
held a row of tablets. It looked like something that didn’t come with the jacket. It had been
attached there.

“I’m getting you one of these so you always have your tablets,” Pete said, plucking out a tablet and
handing it to Porsche.

Porsche looked at the tablet and then looked at Pete.

“I’m not judging,” Pete said. "If you need suppressants-"

"I'm a beta," Porsche said. "I'm only taking suppressants because it's mandatory."

Pete rolled his eyes.

"Take it." He dragged Porsche's hand, placed the tablet in it and left the bathroom, closing the door
behind him.

Great. Porsche was doing so well convincing people that he was not an omega. The only reason
Pete would be doing this in secret was because he thought Porsche had something to hide. And the
only thing to hide was being an omega. Good job, Porsche.

The tiny tablet wouldn't even do much but Porsche swallowed it, either way. He needed
Supplimax. This regular suppressant was for people with normal cycles who lived normal lives.
Taking it would hold off the impending doom, but only so. If they didn’t get back to the hotel in
time, Porsche didn’t want to think of what would happen.

***

By the time they were loading into the bus, Pete was not the only one looking at Porsche with
worry.

"Are you okay?" Kinn asked.

"Fine," Porsche said, pulling his jacket around him as he leaned into the window and prayed that
the hotel would come as fast as possible.

***

Porsche made his way out of the elevator, trying to hold himself together. Just a few steps to the
room. That was all it would take. If he just put one leg in front of the other, he’d get there before
all hell broke loose.

“Hey.”

“God no,” Porsche said, hastening his steps to the door. “Not now, Kinn.”

Porsche swiped his key card and entered the room, but as he tried to close the door, Kinn blocked.

“Porsche, what the hell?”

He entered as Porsche headed for his wardrobe.

“Can you give me one minute?”

“To do what? What’s been going on with you? You’ve been dull and loopy all da-”

“Kinn!” Porsche snapped.

Kinn paused, looking at Porsche, confused.

“Why are you being like this?”

Porsche got his traveling bag from the wardrobe and held it in his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Just go. Please. For one minute. That’s all I ask.”

“Not unless you tell me what’s wrong?”

When Porsche tried to walk around him to get to the bathroom, Kinn blocked the way. When he
moved the other way, Kinn dragged him back, pulling him into a corner, boxing him, keeping him
from moving.

“Please,” Porsche cried, backing Kinn, hugging his bag.

“I don’t like the way you’re being. Talk to me.”

“It’s private.”

“I don’t like it.”

He couldn’t bring out the injection. Kinn would see it.

This was so bad. Kinn was right there, smelling like a warm cooked meal to Porsche’s raving
hunger. Why couldn’t he listen? Why didn’t he take Porsche seriously?

“Look at me.” His breath burned the back of Porsche’s neck. “Let me help you.”

“You can’t.” He tried to blink tears away. “Trust me.”

“You’re burning up and you’re… my god, now you’re crying.”

He turned Porsche around as Porsche just let go, sliding down the wall to the ground. But Kinn
wouldn’t let him go alone. Kneeling beside Porsche, he wiped the tears away and Porsche leaned
into his touch. This was so bad. This was going to be so bad if he didn't… if he waited… if he-

“Fuck it.”

Porsche unzipped the bag with shaky hands, pulling out his case as Kinn shifted back to allow him
room on the floor. As Porsche opened the case, Kinn gasped, covering his mouth.

“Porsche?”

Porsche couldn’t answer. He couldn’t wait. Taking out the drug capsule, he picked an injection,
uncapped the big, green, plastic capsule and placed it on the base of the injection. Assembled, the
shot was five inches in length and one inch in diameter, with a tiny mouth.

He lifted it to his leg, feeling for the spot, but he couldn't get it. His hands were shaking. The last
time Porsche had felt this overwhelmed and on the verge of catastrophe, Vegas had been there. But
Vegas wasn't here anymore.

"Let me."

With tears running down his face, knowing that it was over, even if Kinn didn't yet know, Porsche
let Kinn take the injection from him. Carefully, Kinn checked the capsule again, feeling Porsche's
thigh for the spot just below his hip. Nodding at Porsche, he jammed the injection into Porsche's
thigh.

"Mother fucker!" Porsche held Kinn, fingers digging into Kinn's shoulders. "Uhh," he groaned.

"It's fine," Kinn assured him, his voice soft and kind. "Take it easy."

Porsche cried.

"You're okay," Kinn said, dropping the injection on the floor as he crouched over Porsche, hugging
Porsche to his chest. "You're doing just fine."

If he was lucky, Kinn would stay quiet, not ask any question and leave. But then again, when had
Porsche ever been lucky?

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Porsche had no answer.

"I could have helped you, you know."

"It's not your problem."

"Since when is your problem not my problem?"

"Kinn, please-"

"Porsche," he said, calmly chastising. "Did you think I would judge you for this?"

Porsche extracted himself from Kinn, picking the old injection and clipping it back into its torn
wrap to dispose of it. He shut the case with the other doses and put it back in his bag and got up.

"Talk to me."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"How many people know?"

"Enough people."

"Does Ohmovit know?"

Porsche tossed the used injection in the bin.

"Yes. It's in my contract."

"Wow," Kinn said, shaking his head in disbelief. "I guess now I know why you were gone for two
years."

"Can you go?" Porsche asked, placing his bag in the wardrobe. "I need a moment."
"You don't need a moment from me."

"This is not about you."

"Why won't you let me be here for you? This is huge. I don't want to nag you about how
irresponsible it was for you to skip your suppressants-"

"I didn't skip anything."

"You're not supposed to take this lightly."

"I never did."

"What if you hadn't gotten back in time? Just imagine. What if your cycle had started in public?"

"Do you think I don't know that?"

"You’re violently contagious, Porsche," Kinn yelled.

Porsche ran his hand through his hair as he sat on his bed. He could just keep quiet. If he ignored
Kinn, he would get mad and go. But at least, it would be temporary. Porsche could salvage this if
he just let Kinn's anger run its course.

"I didn't mean..." Kinn said, sitting beside Porsche. "I didn't mean to yell. I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

"Fuck suppressants, you could trigger betas, Porsche. Do you understand that? Any company can
survive if cycles are scheduled, but can you imagine what would happen if even the betas are out
of commission? For a production like this that six companies have put their legs in. Can you
imagine how much money people would lose if this entire building just spontaneously started
rutting? Not to mention those unlucky betas who would present as omegas. Can you imagine?"

"I know."

“Do you? Because you can kiss your career goodbye. No, not even that,” Kinn said. “You could be
sued for this.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?”

Kinn sighed, leaning into Porsche.

"I know you know. I just want you to be careful."

"I’ll be careful."

Kinn looked at him.

"What did Vegas threaten Ohmovit with to let you in this play?"

Confused, Porsche asked, "What?"

"I have to know. I mean, Vegas can be vicious and creative. So what did he say?"

The heaviness in Porsche's gut returned, realizing where this was going.

"He didn't threaten them."

"Psh," Kinn said. "They just let an omega star in their play for nothing? I'm supposed to believe
that?"

Porsche got up and walked away.

"Come on. Just tell me. I won't tell him you told me."

"He didn't do anything."

"For an omega?"

"I'm not an omega."

There. Porsche had said it.

Kinn shook his head, unable to comprehend what Porsche was saying.

"What do you... what do you mean?" he asked. "You have a cycle disorder that's contagious. You
can't have CCD without having cycles. And the only people who have cycles are omegas and..."

Kinn let out a shaky breath as the words died in his mouth.

"Oh my god," Kinn said, shaking his head. “You’re not an omega.”

Porsche lowered his eyes to the ground as he heard Kinn say, “You’re an alpha.”
 this is why

There were a lot of things about Awut that Kinn remembered with vivid clarity. His raspy voice,
his morning stubble against Kinn's neck, his quiet, reverberating laugh when he'd heard the best
joke, his smile when Kinn smiled at him... the list could have gone on for days.

The one thing Kinn had developed a sort of addiction for was Awut's knot. Before him, Kinn had
dated other boys his age - all of them, betas like him - with enough knowledge to offer satisfying
hand jobs, and not much else. But not Awut. He'd been a college student at the time, worldly and
attentive to every word that left Kinn's mouth.

He was already an alpha when they'd started dating. He spent most of his time on suppressants so
that he could control his cycle. As a student, he couldn't leave his fate in the hands of other
students who might not be keeping track of their own cycles. Besides, Awut was a control freak.
Being able to choose what the period for his two cycles a year was a thing of pride.

Kinn loved that about him.

He also loved it when Awut got hot and desperate in his rut, calling Kinn to his side, unable to
think because he wanted to fuck Kinn and knot him for hours. It was hard not to want it, when
someone wanted you that way. It was hard not to crave the vibrating thrum of Awut’s knot when it
pulsed in Kinn nudging his prostate, bringing them both to orgasm, over and over till they passed
out, locked together by Awut’s knot.

The bite was a whole other issue.

Whenever Awut lost his mind and bit Kinn, it was just a compromise, a sign of love, something
Kinn could put up with in exchange for mind blowing sex. He got so used to it that by the fourth
time they spent Awut’s rut together, Kinn was looking forward to the bite. It was a part of the
whole package. It wasn’t permanent, because Kinn wasn’t an omega, but that didn’t stop Awut
from wanting to bite him every time they had cycle sex.

The first time Kinn popped a knot, Awut was inside of him. It wasn't during Awut's cycle and Kinn
didn't know what was happening. He just felt a heaviness at the tip of his dick that he'd never felt
before as it began to expand, seeking friction.

"Fuck," Awut had said, pausing his movements behind Kinn as the hand that had been stroking
Kinn's dick encircled the bulb at the end of th dick. "You're an alpha," he'd laughed. "Fuck."

Kinn could barely hear him over the loud crashing against his ears as his world zeroed in on the
dick in his ass and the hand holding his hips in place.

"Mo...move," he begged. "Please."

"Yeah," Awut said, fucking into Kinn so hard that he felt like he was on the verge of bursting.

Kinn didn't remember much from his first rut. According to Awut, he'd spent most of it with his
dick in a rut buddy and a dildo in his ass because Awut had school to go to. But he'd come out of it
with aching bones and an over sensitive dick.

Going on suppressants, because Awut wouldn't have it any other way, Kinn remained in the
relationship. Even when his brother told him not to. Tankhun hated that Kinn's cycle was at the
mercy of Awut's command, but Awut was only trying to save time. If they were having sex, then
they ought to sync up their cycles. They were in love, after all. They could make this work.

Their first cycle together was nothing like Awut's previous cycles. Kinn couldn't kiss Awut
because he had to wear a mouth guard to keep his teeth in. He couldn't knot Awut the same way
Awut had knotted him, because Awut didn't like to bottom. And even though Kinn's ass seemed to
resist the intrusion, staying tighter than Kinn had ever been, Awut had been too keyed up to wait
that he'd forced his knot in. It hurt like mother fucker, but Awut was gentle with his words, offering
up kisses on the back of Kinn's neck, telling him how good he was, promising him a good time.

And really, it had been a good time. Being knotted as a beta was nothing compared to being
knotted when Kinn's rut was in full effect. Kinn felt drunk, unable to offer a coherent statement,
more docile than ever before, soaking up everything Awut had to give. It had the makings of the
best weekend in Kinn's life.

Until Awut bit him.

Kinn was almost eighteen when this happened. Before then, he'd been shot in the shoulder, his
knee had dislocated, he'd had a couple of jagged, weird-facing teeth pulled out of his mouth. And
yet, all of that was nothing compared to the pain he'd felt when Awut broke skin, latching onto
Kinn's neck as Kinn screamed. The pain was so bad that it cleared the haze of cycle sex from his
head, pulling Kinn in till all he could feel, all he could remember was the pain.

And even after Awut's teeth retracted, the pain remained, digging deeper as if Awut had forgotten
a tooth in Kinn's neck.

"I'm sorry," he'd said. "I got carried away. I won't do it again."

Kinn didn't tell his older brother, but he'd told Tay, who'd told Vegas, who'd slashed Awut's tires.
Kinn pretended that he didn't know. Best not to antagonize Vegas when he got protective. Who
knew if Vegas would do worse? Besides, making it a thing would just ensure that Tankhun heard
about it and Tankhun was an adult, with access to adult weapons and paid hitmen. No, really,
Vegas slashing Awut’s tires was the better option.

Kinn didn't know when it started, but his fear of intimacy began to grow, with each touch from
Awut. It wasn't even the heavy things, it was simple things like hugs and kisses and cuddles. Even
sex that wasn't cycle sex. Kinn didn't want to be fucked on his hands and knees anymore. He'd lie
on his back so that he could look Awut in the eye, remind himself of the man he was in love with,
tell himself that the pain wasn't there. It had been an accident. Awut was used to biting Kinn when
they fucked during his cycle. It was a one-time mistake.

But there were other things to worry about. Other things that Kinn hadn't noticed before. Like how
Awut would keep him in front when they watched movies. Or how he’d hold Kinn’s hand when
they went places. All things, unnoticeable and without consequence. Until Kinn realized that he
was kept in front so that Awut could dictate how much popcorn and soda Kinn consumed. And
how he held his hand to make sure that he knew where Kinn was when they were outside. How he
had a schedule for Kinn's reading time, or play time, or sexy times. Awut’s obsessive need for
control that used to be so sexy began to grate on Kinn's nerves.

"I'm an alpha," Kinn had said, when they cuddled in Awut’s apartment, one night.

"I'm an alpha, too," Awut had replied.

"Maybe," he'd said, uncertainly. "Maybe we could... take turns?"

"Take turns doing what?" Awut asked, gently stroking the right side of Kinn's neck. A harmless
gesture, but Kinn knew that spot. It was where Awut loved to place his bites. By stroking it, he was
messing with Kinn’s concentration.

"Why do we even need turns? We can do whatever we want, right? We're in this relationship
together?"

"Exactly," Awut agreed. "We can just do what we want and I want things the way they are."

"But what about me?"

Awut frowned at Kinn.

"Have I mistreated you in any way?"

"No, but-"

"Do you like the way I make love to you?"

"Yes, but-"

"Why would you want to change a good thing?"

Kinn didn't really know what to say to that. It wasn't the worst thing to have someone to be with,
especially since he was about to enter university. He'd need all the support he could get.

Six months after their first cycle together, Kinn had forgotten his need to lie on his back. He'd been
so gone on fucking the rut buddy that he hadn't realized that Awut had positioned him on his
knees, pressing into Kinn with aggression to the point that Kinn flinched, trying to stay upright.
Which would have been okay, if Awut hadn't brushed Kinn's hair away from his neck and dug his
teeth right in, causing Kinn to cry so loud that his throat was hoarse for days.

As soon as that knot receded, while both their ruts were still in effect, Kinn called Tankhun. He
hadn't even been able to explain why he needed to leave, but Tankhun hadn't needed an
explanation.

"Kinn," Awut called, wrapping himself in a coat as he struggled to get up while Arm and Pol
packed Kinn's things from the apartment. "Please."

Tankhun stood between Awut and Kinn.

"I'm sorry," Awut had said. "I'll do better."

"No, you won't," Tankhun said.

"Let me just talk to him."

"If you come near my brother again, I will have your kneecaps taken from you."

With that, Kinn was escorted out of the apartment to a car where he cried the whole ride home. The
following week, Kinn declared his status as an alpha, applied for an ID modification and stepped
out into the public eye as the first Theerapanyakul alpha in his generation.

***

"You're an alpha," Kinn said, unable to comprehend the words leaving his own mouth.
He tried to reconcile all he knew about Porsche with this new bit of information because it didn't
make sense. Porsche was nothing like a traditional alpha. Everything about him that was
considered alpha was something he’d deliberately learned for the alpha roles he took. But on his
own, Porsche was… anything but alpha. When he wasn't trying to put on a show, he was soft,
demure, caring. The type of man who cried without shame or screamed when he hurt himself, in
public. Sexually, there was absolutely nothing there. Kinn tried his best to compare his experience
with Awut with everything Porsche was but he was coming up empty.

"Explain yourself," Kinn said, trying not to freak out.

"I'm an alpha," Porsche said, crossing his hands over his chest and sitting on the bed. "But I am
still me."

"Are you?"

"I know what happened with Awut-"

"And still you did this?" Kinn shouted. "Did you...?" Kinn asked, feeling his chest close up. "Did
you laugh at me? Did you look at me and know the right buttons to push?"

"No, Kinn," Porsche got up. When Kinn stepped back, Porsche's eyes lowered to Kinn's feet. Then
he sat back down on the bed.

"Why didn't you declare your status?" he asked.

"Because I didn't want to."

"Because of me?"

When Porsche looked down again, Kinn got his answer.

"Let me understand this," Kinn paced the room, wall to wall. "You refused to declare yourself an
alpha - something that would not only boost your career but put an end to the "Porsche is an
omega" rumors - just because you hoped that some day, I might fuck you."

"When you put it like that-"

"Porsche, I’m going to need you to shut the fuck up for a second."

Kinn sat on the floor by the wardrobe, where Porsche had sat to take his injection.

As flattering as this could have been, Kinn couldn't shake the thought that Porsche was toying with
him, leading him into a false sense of superiority. Porsche had kept something this big from Kinn
till they'd fucked and gotten so entwined with each other that Kinn couldn't leave.

Which was exactly what Awut had done. Because the pros always outweighed the cons. Fuck, if
Porsche laughed and said it was all a joke, Kinn was ready to believe him and put this nightmare
behind him. Because Porsche wasn't Awut. Porsche wouldn't use Kinn like that. He wouldn't.

But then again, Awut hadn't, either. Not until their cycles. And Kinn had never been with Porsche
during a cycle. For all he knew, Porsche would be a totally different man. During a cycle, Porsche
would resist Kinn, hold him at arm's length. Porsche didn't know it but Kinn barely had any walls
up against him. It wouldn't take much for Porsche to push Kinn over, press him down and fuck him
into oblivion, keeping him sated on a knot till the moment Porsche bit him in the neck.
"Let me give you a moment,” Porsche said as he got up from the bed.

He headed for the door, but Kinn got up too, moving quickly as he got to the door in time to shut it,
keeping Porsche pinned against the wall.

"Wait," Kinn said. "I just need to know one thing, Porsche."

Porsche hesitated, leaning back on the wall as Kinn moved closer. He'd caught a whiff of Porsche's
scent and he needed a bit more. He knew he should keep away, think clearly, avoid Porsche. But
even in the moment, knowing what Porsche was, Kinn couldn’t resist.

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

Porsche looked away, but Kinn couldn't let him keep hiding like that. So he held Porsche by the
chin and turned him to look.

"I'm trying not to lose my shit right now."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to stop fucking lying to me."

"I didn't-"

Kinn slammed the wall beside Porsche's head as Porsche flinched.

"Were you ever going to come clean?"

"No," Porsche whispered. Like he was hoping Kinn wouldn’t hear him.

"Wow," Kinn said, placing a hand on the door. "You know, I never imagined that you'd put me in
this position."

"I'm sorry."

“Really?”

“I didn’t mean it to go this far.”

“Right.” Kinn nodded. “You just wanted an alpha to fuck you. Damn what he wants.”

“That’s not what I wanted,” Porsche said, his eyes glistening with tears.

The same tears he’d used to manipulate Kinn that first night. Because he knew that if he bowed and
cried and acted vulnerable, Kinn would cave to his demands. Like he always did.

"You fucking disgust me."

"Kinn-"

He opened the door and left, allowing it to slowly swing shut in his wake.
 unwanted information

Vegas was a very busy man.

From the moment he entered his room, at the hotel, till the moment he left, he was either on the
phone, or the phone was buzzing in some corner. Pete couldn’t see what was happening, but he
could hear it all.

Shipment plans. Business deals. Talent acquisition for his agency. Name it, Vegas was doing it.
Some of it was just phone calls that consisted of simple yeses and nos that made no sense to Pete.

Still, he listened. He had to, in order to know what to send to Wan. Because Pete was in those
recordings, as well. Giggling, talking, moaning, watching late night cable and arguing. God, Pete
sounded like he was having fun. Even to his own ears. If Wan heard him sounding like that, he
would think that Pete was in over his head.

He wasn’t. Vegas was just Vegas.

He edited out every bit of his presence, using what little free time he had between rehearsals and
Vegas’ attention, until he was satisfied with the first set of twenty hours he sent to Wan.

By the third weekend, when Vegas was missing from camp, Pete didn’t freak out. He just switched
to the bugs he’d planted in Vegas’ room at home. It hadn’t been easy. Vegas had barely left the
room when Pete was around, as if a moment away was precious time wasted. Pete hadn’t even
been able to do a lot of snooping because the one time he’d had the chance, Vegas was back before
he could do more.

At least, he had one bug in place, glued to the bottom of the round, low table at the center of the
room, between his bed and vanity table. Unlike when he was at camp, Vegas didn’t spend all day
in his room. He came and went, sometimes leaving his phone behind as it rang and rang for
minutes and minutes because, apparently, the whole world wanted to talk to Vegas.

One evening, as Pete oiled his skin after a shower, getting ready for bed, he listened to the day’s
recording at three times the speed, hoping to get a little work done before bed, when he heard the
door slam in Vegas’ room. He flinched and reduced the volume when the door slammed a second
time.

“That wasn’t what I asked you to do,” a strange man said.

“He didn’t want me, Papa,” Vegas said.

Pete slowed down the recording.

“I have only one use for you and you can’t even do this.”

“He wants a clean deal.”

“He’s asking for a lot of money.”

“You have the money, Papa. Just give it to him.”

A loud smack sounded as Pete flinched. He wasn’t there. He didn’t have to be in the room with
Vegas and his father to know what had just happened. Pete closed his oil and dropped it into his
bag as he clenched his jaw.

“You will call him back, you will get in your car, you will go to his hotel room and you will bend
over backwards if that’s what he wants.”

“Papa, you’re not listening.”

There was another smack. When he heard the third one land, Pete stopped the recording and pulled
off his headphones.

He would have to make an exception, this time. It wasn’t like he was in any of those recordings. He
didn’t have to listen to them. If Wan wanted the information, Pete just had to forward them.
Because he didn’t think he could sift through Vegas’ time at home if it was going to include more
of these altercations.

They were hitting a bit too close to home. Pete wasn’t shocked that this was, yet, another thing
they had in common. With each passing moment spent in Vegas’ presence, Pete could see it. Two
men handed shitty deals by fate that anyone else in the world would be envious of.

Because Pete could understand having two faces. He could understand being a force in public that
anyone would give way to. But he could also understand being a breakable piece that was pressed
on and forced into shape by circumstances.

So far, the only major difference between the both of them was that, at least, Pete had managed to
bury a knife in his father’s neck.

He wondered if Vegas ever would.

Shaking his head, Pete set his phone down on his side cupboard as he put away his night bag.
Vegas was a grown man. A mafia man. More than likely had stabbed multiple men and shot even
more. He wasn’t some harmless child in need of Pete’s concern. He wasn’t.

And yet, a little part of Pete couldn’t help wishing that he was in that room with Vegas and his
father. Because he had a sharp blade he’d like to introduce to the older man.

***

The stunt coordinator joined camp the following week, increasing the rigor of their work outs and
cutting their rehearsal time in half. The director was more than happy to sit in a corner, scribbling
and watching and scribbling. Pete knew that look. If you left a director with his script for too long,
things were bound to change drastically. He knew big change was coming and in his mind, Pete
just accepted it.

On the other hand, stage stunts were relatively new to Pete.

For once, Porsche was soaring ahead of all of them. He was so easy with his movements, he was
practically dancing. Every prop they were handed, every turn they were taught, Porsche took to it
like a fish to water.

He could understand why Porsche’s management always made such a big deal about noting that he
almost never used stunt-doubles. From the way he listened to the stunt coordinator, watching him
and hanging on to every word, Pete could tell that Porsche wanted to do this part, loved this part,
even.

“How does it feel to be the teacher’s pet?” Pete asked, during one of their breaks as Porsche lay
quietly by the wall.

Porsche had opened his eyes and looked up at Pete with a weak smile on his face.

“Finally something I can do better than you.”

“Ha,” Pete said. “Give me a week or two and we’ll see.”

He expected Porsche to jump on that with bluster, boasting of how hard it would be to master
multiple stunts in such a short period of time. Because Porsche liked to make noise. It was his
thing.

But instead, he just smiled again, shrugging as he closed his eyes back.

“Are you okay?” Pete asked, sitting beside him.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Why?”

“You seem different, lately.”

Which was an understatement. Since the radio talk show, Pete had returned to their room every
morning, to find Porsche either still sleeping, or just getting up from his bed. And during the
weekend, when Vegas was gone and Pete slept in their room, Porsche had slept in their room, too.

He didn't know much about Porsche before they’d been cast as co-stars, but Pete was getting to
know the man, more and more. And this quiet, lies-in-a-corner-during-breaks-Porsche was not the
same one he’d known for almost a month.

Taking Porsche’s free hand from the floor, Pete held in both of his, choosing to sit in silence with
him as they rested.

“What’s this?” Porsche asked, even as his fingers closed tightly around Pete’s like he’d been
waiting for Pete to hold him.

“Close your eyes and rest.”

Eyes lingering on Pete, Porsche dropped his head back on the ground and closed his eyes again. He
could afford to rest. He'd earned with how much work he’d been putting in.

Pete, on the other hand, needed to visualize his training. He wasn’t the worst. In fact, he was one
of the better actors, handling movements as well as anyone who wasn’t Porsche or Tem. But he
was still a little envious. And he wanted to… needed to move like Porsche was moving.

Pawat, Pete’s character in the play, was the palace chef’s assistant who’d been placed in the
kitchen to spy on the king, while slipping him bits of poison. Unlike his previous characters, Pawat
was a fighter, pretending to be a harmless, omega slave. Which meant that Pete had to take the
training seriously.

He was first to the training hall and last to leave, hanging on to the pole that was meant to be his
fighting staff. Every chance he got, Pete was practicing, twirling it around, attacking the dummy,
trying his floor stunts. The director had big dreams about harnesses and shit, but Pete wouldn’t
look that far yet. He could focus on what he’d been taught so far and get awesome at this part. That
was the plan.

“Oh, look at you.”

Mid swing, Pete stopped, looking at the door where Vegas had just come in through.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Sorry about that,” he said, strolling in. “I had a few things to do for my dad. How’s the fighting
going?”

Vegas hopped around, holding up his hands like he was trying to box till he got to Pete and then
planted a peck on Pete’s lips.

“It’s going great.”

There was a nude band aid on Vegas’ right cheek. Remembering the sounds of him getting hit,
Pete’s hand rose to the band aid.

“Are you clumsy or troublesome?” he asked.

“Both?” Vegas asked, smiling. “Sometimes you fall, sometimes you get hit.”

As Pete caressed it, Vegas’ hands encircled his waist, pulling him close as he buried his nose in
Pete’s neck.

“Are you sniffing me?” Pete asked. “I’m sweating.”

“You smell like flowers and candy.”

“And man-funk.”

“Man-funk is sexy. Hey!”

Pete pulled him away, looking into Vegas’ eyes, wondering how he could talk about it without
talking about it because even though he tried to forget, the memory of Vegas and his father
couldn’t stop playing in his head.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Why do you worry about me?”

The question warranted an answer. But all it did was douse a large bucket of water over Pete’s head
as he regained his senses. Because Vegas was right. Why was Pete worrying? He wasn’t supposed
to. None of this was his business. Vegas was his own man.

This wasn’t the plan at all. Pete had agreed to this because Vegas was not his person. The thought
of doing this to Kinn was unthinkable because Kinn was Pete’s person. Kinn was Pete’s boss, his
friend, his confidant. Vegas was not.

He wasn’t supposed to be.

If Pete wanted to keep his secrets safe with Wan, he had to remind himself of this. And that
included setting some boundaries with this man before him.

Because the last thing Pete needed to worry about was a man whose secrets he was selling to rival
mafia.
 A day with the little brother

"I'm sorry, Boss."

"Fuck!"

"I don't know how it happened."

"Did you talk to the broker?"

"He said that they were asking for 95% of what we were asking for."

Vegas lay on the floor, his forehead pressed into the carpet of his hotel room as he died over and
over and over again. He'd bid so low, hoping to entice the client. He was sure he was going to get it
because everyone else saw the popular company brand and were asking extravagant sums for
mediocre services.

"Something's strange about this, Boss."

"What is it?"

"Gambit, the company who got the bid... they were originally one of the first people who lost?"

Vegas pulled himself up to his knees and sat on his heels.

"What?"

"Yeah. They were asking for 400% of our bid like everyone else and the client said no to all of
them. But then suddenly, they asked for less than we did."

"Not just less, Nop. They asked for 95%. Pretty close to what we were asking for. And no one
would take such a shit deal unless-"

"Unless they know what we know, Boss. And they'd have to have had our exact figure to know
how low to go."

"What are you saying?"

"We have a leak," Nop said, as a heavy dread sank in Vegas' stomach.

"Shit."

"I'll find them."

"Shit," Vegas said again, unable to let go of what that meant. "Who's behind Gambit?"

"No gang affiliations. They seem legit."

"They can't be that legit if they're stealing my Intel."

"It's a brand new company. Very small one."

Vegas scoffed.

"Get me names, Nop."

"Yes, sir."

Vegas dropped his phone on the floor, carefully. His father was going to be pissed. Eleven months.
Eleven months, they'd waited for everyone else till the last moment, knowing that they'd exhaust
themselves before Vegas swooped in.

He rubbed his eyes as he sat on the floor, leaning against the foot of his bed. He needed a fucking
break. He needed a week without phone calls or stress, but he was aware of the catastrophe that
would befall his family if he ever took that break.

For a moment, Vegas wished. For one day without any of it, he prayed silently.

Reaching out, he grabbed his phone again. It was lunch break for the cast and crew, so he called
Pete. He couldn't rest or take a break, but Pete was a weird, mobile sort of solace that calmed
Vegas. A word or two would be nice.

"The number you have dialed is busy..."

Vegas cut the call and checked the time. When he called again, the number was switched off.

Maybe Pete was busy. Hating that he couldn't talk to Pete whenever he wanted, Vegas reminded
himself that Pete was his own person. It wasn't like Vegas could cuff him to a bed and keep him at
all times. He couldn't.

Right?

Because, that would be bad. Yeah, that would be bad.

Probably.

Fuck, Vegas needed a break.

There was a knock at his door. Giddy with excitement, he hopped up and ran to the door, hoping to
find Pete.

"Phi!" Macau said, entering the room with bags of groceries that he dumped into Vegas' hand.

"Cau..." Vegas said, confused. "What are you doing here?"

"I missed you."

"I was at home during the weekend," he said, kicking his door closed as he went after Macau and
dropped the grocery bags on the table.

"Well, I wanted to see you."

"Why aren't you in school?"

"Show me your drama-play."

Sitting back on the bed and looking at Vegas with his evil, doe eyes, Macau smiled.

"Papa won’t like this."

"Please, Phi."
More doe eyes. With the added bonus of puckered lips.

Spoilt child.

"You're twenty years old," Vegas said, picking up his wallet. "It's not cute anymore."

Giggling and standing, Macau followed him out the door.

***

By the time they made it to the rehearsal room, the break was over and the actors were back at the
center. Macau whispered greetings to the crew and managers as he finagled his way around people
till he settled between Kinn and Tay.

"Don't you have school?" Kinn asked as Tay wrapped an arm around Macau's neck, strangling him.

"I don't have classes everyday."

Vegas sat beside Kinn, looking for Pete, who was lying down on his back, propped up by his
elbows as he listened to the director, along with the other actors. As usual, he was wearing another
crop top -gray- that was loose, the hem falling around his midriff, revealing more than it would
have if he was upright. He was wearing long tights that extended to his ankles and into his socks,
but above it, a short, red skirt rested on his hips.

His legs were crossed at the ankle, his hair falling back to reveal his face, his neck, his collar
bones... helped by the low neck of the crop top. Really, Pete just liked to show off. And Vegas was
grateful for the sight.

When the director dismissed them and the cast dispersed, leaving room for Pete and Tem on the
floor, Vegas watched with rapt attention as Tem mimed eating, enjoying the meal and praising the
cook who'd handled the meal, even though it was a meal that Niran had made. Even doing
something as mundane as watching the emperor swallow poison, Pete’s stance, his actions, held
Vegas' attention to ransom.

"Stop drooling," Kinn said.

Unconsciously, Vegas tightened his jaw to be sure that he hadn't had his mouth open and his jaw
extended.

"Can you not be a jackass for one second?" Vegas asked.

"I told you to stay away from him."

"He's an adult. He can make his own decisions."

"Right," Kinn said. "We all know how respectful you are of other people's decisions."

Oh, the hypocrisy.

Vegas’ tongue played with his teeth as he tried not to fight back. There were so many things he
could say that would shut Kinn up. But Porsche had forbidden Vegas from speaking about any of
it. Especially to Kinn.

"You don't want to have this conversation with me," Vegas said.

"I'm pretty sure I do."

"Cau?" Vegas said, looking at his brother. "Let's go get some ice cream."

"How mature," Kinn said.

As Macau stood and headed for the door, Vegas leaned in so that only Kinn would hear him.

"Stay the fuck out of my business."

As Vegas moved to get up, he grabbed Vegas by the collar and kept him in place. Kinn smiled,
watching the actors rehearse, even as the managers and crew around them averted their gaze from
Vegas and Kinn. It was fortunate that the area where they were sitting was cordoned off by a glass
wall, darkened by the lack of windows and light. So, even though the people around were getting
anxious from Kinn's display, the actors and the others beyond the wall had no idea what was going
on.

“What the hell, Kinn?” Tay whispered, leaning closer. “Let him go.”

"Do you want to say that to me again?" Kinn asked, before looking at Vegas. "Cousin?"

More often than not, it was easy to forget that Kinn was the oldest alpha alive in the family. His
father was a beta, his mother was an omega. Vegas dad was a beta, too. And so was Tankhun. But
Kinn? He held the ring of the main family and whether or not anyone wanted to accept it, he was
the boss.

He was diplomatic about everything, giving voice to everyone like their opinions mattered equally,
but Vegas knew the truth. He'd grown up in Kinn's shadow. No matter how kind or generous he
seemed, Vegas had seen what his cousin could be like when, on occasion, he snapped.

Which was what Vegas was looking at, when Kinn met his eyes. Because Vegas knew every part
of Kinn there was to know. And this part? This one who had grabbed Vegas' collar in public?
Vegas didn't like this one, very much. Because this one liked to shoot people when they got in his
way.

"Nothing to say?" he asked Vegas.

Choosing his words carefully, Vegas said, "I'm not doing anything that you aren't."

A little glisten of triumph spread through Vegas as Kinn blinked and his hold on Vegas loosened a
bit.

“I don’t - I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t, Phi.”

Porsche had always and would always be a soft spot for Kinn. Porsche would hate to be used like
this, but Vegas didn’t see any other way to escape Kinn without invoking the fact that Kinn
couldn’t talk about Vegas and Pete when Kinn was fucking Vegas’ own artist.

Removing Kinn's hand from his shirt, Vegas walked out of the room as quickly as he could. Best
not to dally while Kinn was still too stunned to react.

"What was that about?" Macau asked as they got out of the rehearsal room.

"Don't worry about it."

"Phi-"
"How about we get that ice cream and talk about why you're really here, huh?"

***

Macau made it halfway into his cup, avoiding Vegas' stare. Vegas had all day, and judging from
Macau's posture, he wasn't in a hurry either. So Vegas waited, eating his own ice cream as he
watched his little brother fidget and pretend.

Finally, Macau dropped the cup and slid a business card across the table to Vegas. Vegas picked it,
read the name and company on it and dropped it back.

He wanted to laugh. But he also wanted to shoot something.

"When did he give you this?"

"Yesterday," Macau said, picking up his ice cream again.

This was why Vegas had anger issues. Sudden changes like this. Fucking plans that came out of
nowhere. Fuck! He wished he’d come out with a gun, because the shop’s glass windows were
starting to look like they'd be better with a bullet or two.

"When is the meeting?"

"Today."

"To-" Vegas took a set of calming breaths. "You're not going."

"Papa said-"

"What do you think is going to happen at that meeting?"

Macau looked down at the table.

"You're not going."

"Papa already told him that-"

"You’re not fucking Tod Setely. And even, why the fuck is Papa interested in entertainment? He
hated it when I wanted to start an agency, now he’s sending you to fuck Tod Setely?"

"Calm down, Phi," Macau said.

Vegas looked around the shop, noticing that the few people around were looking at them. Moving
closer to his brother, he spoke softly.

"I'll handle it."

"Or," Macau said. "You could just tell me what to expect."

"You expect nothing. You'll do nothing."

"Why is it okay for you to sell your body and not me?"

"Cau-"

"Do you think it’s respectable for the future leader of the minor family to still be doing this shit?
You started going when you were much younger than me. Teach me and send me instead."
"I'd rather die."

"Phi!"

"Cau!"

Macau grabbed his ice cream spoon and dug back in, frowning at the cup like he wanted to murder
it. Vegas didn't care. Macau could hate him all he wanted, but the last thing he'd allow his brother
to do is lay back in a hotel so that rich men and women could do unthinkable things to him.

"Okay," Macau said. "If you don't want me to go, we have another option."

"Which is?"

"Phi Kinn."

Vegas laughed.

"No."

"Are you just going to keep refusing everything I say?"

"Come," he said, getting up.

"Where are we going?"

"Let’s take a walk."

As they paid and made their way out, Vegas searched for the words for the conversation he was
about to have. Because their father wasn’t a hard man to understand. He really wasn’t. But, so far,
there was at least, a difference in the way he treated Vegas and the way he treated Macau. And
Vegas was going to do all he could to keep it that way.

"Do you remember the lounge deal in Phuket?" Vegas asked his brother. Macau nodded. "Do you
ever hear Papa talk about it?"

"It was a failed deal." Macau balanced himself on a tiny brick line that was carved around a grove
of beautiful, yellow flowers in the park. "I heard that he broke your wrist for it."

Vegas rubbed his thumb over his right wrist, remembering the shatter of his bones when the table
left came down on it.

"We were in Porsche's apartment and the call came in and I didn't see it. Phi Kinn saw it. He didn't
want to wake me because I'd been sick. So he took the call." Vegas cleared his throat. "Papa was
asking for 500million but when Phi got back the next morning with a signed deal, he had
650million on the papers."

"What?" Macau asked, shocked.

"Yeah. I couldn’t believe it. Papa was ecstatic. He wouldn’t stop talking about it. But," Vegas said.
"Three months into development, someone must have told him I wasn’t the one who took the
meeting because he came home one day and he-"

"You don’t have to tell me this part, Phi."

Vegas held his brother’s hand so he could stop.

"Papa didn’t care about that victory anymore. As far as he was concerned, it was Kinn’s victory.
Which, to him, isn’t ours. Trust me, you don’t want Kinn anywhere near this."

After that, they didn’t talk about it again. Instead, Vegas took him on a walk around the park, had
lunch, went to the movies and finally, Vegas dropped him off at home.

"Give me the card," he said as Macau put it in Vegas’ front pocket. "I’ll handle it, okay?"

"Okay, Phi."

He waved and ran back into the house as Vegas drove off.

***

By the time he got back to the hotel, it was dark. He’d tried calling Pete all the way, but his phone
went from being busy to being turned off. Just like in the morning. As soon as he arrived, he
headed for Pete’s floor. They usually liked to meet in his room for more privacy, but Vegas didn’t
think he’d mind visiting Pete in his own comfort area. After all, Porsche was never around in the
evenings.

He didn't receive an answer to his knocks on the door until he was about to knock a fourth time.
The door swung open and standing before him, in flipflops, a tank top and jeans, with a towel on
his head, was Porsche.

Confused, Vegas checked his watch. Because he hadn't thought Porsche would be around. Ever
since his dalliance with Kinn, it seemed like Pete barely had a roommate, let alone one who was
about to tuck in at 9pm.

"Why are you here?" Vegas asked.

Porsche narrowed his eyes.

"Are we still not talking or would you like an actual answer?"

"You're the one who doesn't want to talk to me."

Porsche sighed heavily and rolled his eyes.

"I swear to god, Vegas. You only ever hear what you want to hear."

Vegas sneered at him. Because what the fuck? Was this supposed to be an apology?

"Well now," he said, turning away from Porsche and leaving. "I don't want to talk to you."

Porsche came out, closing the door behind him.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about why my roommate just checked the peephole, saw you
and ran into the bathroom?"

Unable to move, Vegas' foot stuck to the carpet, forcing him to turn back to Porsche.

"What?" he asked, more confused than he had ever been. Because why would Pete be avoiding
him?

"Oh, are you talking to me now?"

"Will I get an actual apology for what you said?

Porsche frowned, shoving one hand in his pocket as the other one picked at the wall beside him.

"I didn't mean what I said."

"Are you saying that now because something went wrong?"

Porsche bit his lips.

"I'm sorry."

Vegas wanted to hold on to his anger just a little bit more but it was already slipping. Because he
wanted to talk about Pete, but also because he wanted to hear about the Porsche and Kinn thing.

Fucking Porsche.

"Fine," Vegas said. "I guess I'm talking to you again."

 The alpha's alpha
Chapter Notes

Okay...
1. This chapter got longer than I usually aim for and I'm sorry.
2. If you wanted to imagine what Tod Setely looks like, think of Tod from Not Me :)
Yeah...
Bye!

Porsche didn't like that Vegas was right.

He had been foolish to gamble his friendship with Kinn on a few weeks of fucking that ultimately
led to total alienation. He knew that. He'd known that from day one.

Was it fucked up? Yes. Stressful? Yes. Worth it? A big, fucking yes.

Although, Porsche would admit, that there were times when it didn’t feel worth it. When Porsche
entered a room and Kinn left. When he sat down with their friends, Kinn got up. The message was
clear. It was everything Porsche should have expected and he knew he deserved it.

He'd forgotten that Kinn had shadows that followed his every move and kept unwanted people
away from Kinn. Having grown up with unlimited access to Kinn, Porsche had taken it for granted.
Unlike most people, he could walk up to Kinn whenever, wherever, and for whatever reason.

But the first time Porsche had seen Kinn leave and moved to follow, he'd been intercepted by Big.
Because Big only ever showed his face when Kinn was unavailable, or unapproachable to
someone. And that someone had never been Porsche.

Until now.

“Big-” he’d started to say.

“No hard feelings, Porsche,” Big had said. “But he doesn’t want to see you right now.”

It wasn't the avoidance. It wasn't the fact that Kinn wouldn't even look at Porsche anymore. It
wasn't the fact that when Porsche spoke, the few times Kinn hadn't run from the room, Kinn had
stood there, pretending he didn't hear a word Porsche spoke. It wasn't all that.

The grandest tell that Porsche was in trouble was Big's presence.

Because if Kinn was mad at Porsche, but he wanted Porsche to approach him, Big wouldn't be
getting in the way. If Kinn had made allowances for anything Porsche had to say or apologize for,
Big would keep his distance. The fact that he was standing between Porsche and Kinn told Porsche
everything he needed to know.

"I told you so," Vegas said.

They hadn’t been able to go into Porsche’s room because Pete was in there. But they couldn’t go
back to Vegas’ room because it was directly opposite Kinn’s and Porsche didn’t think he could
handle it, at the moment.

They ended up in the South-west corner of the hotel’s roof, sitting under clear, starry night, looking
over the busy city below as Porsche helped himself to the second pack of beers that Toss had
gotten for him. Really, Toss deserved a raise for the amount of stress Porsche put him through on a
daily basis.

Porsche hadn’t been planning to drink so much. However, there was a metal shed that housed the
curved end of a large vent, just behind them. And Porsche had forgotten until they got up to the
roof. But as soon as he sat, looking around, he remembered the night Kinn had brought him up to
this same spot to drink. And they’d fucked up against that vent’s shed.

Thinking of that time, Porsche had downed a beer. And another. And then another. Because he
could still hear Kinn's dry, breathless moans of “Porsche,” every time he thrust in, arms holding
Porsche up, straining from his weight, but too keyed up to do anything else. He hadn’t complained
until they’d finished and they were lying on the floor, looking up at the sky.

“Serves you right,” Vegas said, unapologetically.

"Whose side are you on?"

"Your side," Vegas said without hesitation. "But Kinn has always been a coward when it comes to
this stuff. He'd rather other people deal with it. And with you, it's much worse because it's you.
And you're in his face everyday and he can't even do anything about it. Which is why he's taking it
out on the rest of us."

Porsche didn't want to talk about it anymore. He already spent every waking moment obsessing
over it. Kinn hated him. If he punched Porsche, Porsche would take it. The fact that Kinn was
ignoring him was way worse than if he took his anger out on Porsche and just got it over with. But
he didn't deserve to have it so easy. And he didn't want to poke at it anymore by talking about it.

"So you and Pete," Porsche asked, taking a gulp from his seventh… or eighth bottle.

Vegas scoffed, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

"We've been fucking."

Porsche coughed, choked and pulled the bottle down as the drink went into the wrong pipe.

"Nice," Vegas mocked, watching the mess as Porsche coughed beer onto the tiles.

"How the hell did that happen?"

Vegas raised his eyebrows at Porsche, smirking.

"You see, Porsche, when one man likes another man-"

"I'm serious."

"We met, we got horny and we fucked."

Porsche took off his flip flops and proceeded to wipe the beer off the tiles with it. He really didn’t
have the energy to get up from where he was. And seriously, why the fuck had they thought it was
a good idea to drink on a roof?

"Who came on to whom?"

Vegas thought about it.

"Both of us?"

"There has to be one initiator."

"Me? I guess?"

"How do you not know?"

"Look, it kinda happened fast."

"Like how fast?"

"Pretty fast, but then again, to someone who spent fifteen years pining after his childhood crush,
anything would be too fast."

Porsche smacked Vegas with his soppy flip flops and enjoyed Vegas’ loud squawk as he rolled
away from Porsche.

“Why is he avoiding you?”

Vegas shrugged.

"Did you do anything?"

Vegas shook his head.

"Did you say anything?"

"The last time we saw each other, we were kissing in the rehearsal room and he was as into it as I
was."

"In the rehearsal room?" Porsche asked, flabbergasted. "Do you have no regard for his reputation?"

Vegas deadpanned.

"The world has seen his cock, Porsche. His reputation will survive."

"What if someone saw you? What if someone took a picture? Do you think people want to know
that their favorite "omega" isn't single?" Porsche asked.

"It's not a big deal."

"If I was kissing someone else in public, what would you do to that person?"

Vegas frowned, shaking off his cigarette.

"It's not the same."

"Because he's not your artist?"

Vegas looked at Porsche.

"Do you think that's why he's avoiding me? Because of his reputation?"

Eyes wide in supplication, Vegas looked so much younger from Porsche's perspective. It was so
strange to see him this way that Porsche wondered how far things had progressed between them.
Because he couldn't ever remember Vegas being this way about anybody. Ever.

"Tsk, oh," Porsche said, crawling to him with the last, unopened pack of beer. "Have a drink."

"No," Vegas said. "I can't get drunk."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because I have a meeting."

"It's 10pm. What meeting?"

As he asked, he realized what it was. They never talked about it, but Porsche knew what kind of
meeting. Shaking his head, he wished he could take back the question. Because he didn't want
Vegas to answer. It wasn't the kind of thing Vegas wanted to talk about. But Porsche was drunk
and his tongue had gotten away from him.

"Sorry."

"It's fine," Vegas said, pushing the beer away. "It's not... it's just... it's a regular meeting." He
nodded, looking unsure. "I think. I hope." He shook his head. "I'm not sure."

Alright , Porsche thought. Vegas wasn't running away from the subject.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Vegas was quiet, smoking gently as he stared up at the sky.

"Do you know Tod Setely?"

"The alpha's alpha?"

"Do you know why they call him that?"

"Because he likes to dominate other alphas. I heard."

"Ha!" Vegas laughed, tapping his cigarette above the ground. “That’s not why.”

"Why?"

Tod Setely was rich. Bottomless pockets kind of money. He was a child genius whose career was
trailed by Thai media all the way from high school to MIT. A promising young man who would,
one day, change the country.

But then, things went quiet for a while, and when he reemerged, he was going to parties and
showing up at fashion shows. A very far cry from the tech genius everyone had predicted.

And he only dated alphas. Like, multiple alphas. A different one, each time his name was in the
news. And he could afford to do it without worrying about anti-love protests who hated the idea of
an alpha dating alphas.

"Why is he the alpha's alpha?"

"Because he’s an omega who mates alphas."

"Bullshit," Porsche said.

"On my mother's grave." Vegas placed a hand on his chest.

That didn't make one lick of sense. Why would the country celebrate an omega? Why hadn't
someone mated him and acquired all his wealth? Even though he had never confirmed or denied
people’s speculation that he was an alpha, how was he getting away with being referred to as the
alpha's alpha if he wasn't actually an alpha?

"How does that even work?"

While Porsche was trying to understand it, Vegas frowned at him in stern judgment.

"He bites them, Porsche. Why do you ask stupid, fucking questions?"

"That's not what I mean."

"What do you mean?"

"Like, he’s just going around biting alphas for no reason?"

"He’s not crazy or anything." Vegas lay back on the ground. "He can't legally own property or
businesses because he's an omega, so he bites alphas, owns them and then gives them businesses
and properties in their names."

That sounded like a proper mess. A one-sided bite between an alpha and an omega wasn't the best
for the person who didn't get to bite back. Because that meant there was no return or biological
loyalty between the two of them. Which was why the alpha bite was such a big deal. Every
romance movie exalted it. Every romantic poem spoke of the alpha's bite like it was the one true
purpose of an omega’s existence.

But when it came to the omega bite, people tended to behave like it didn't matter as much to
alpha's. Even though there was nothing more scary to an unmated alpha than an omega’s bite.
People liked to pretend that alphas didn't guard their necks when they were around an omega in
heat. The number of omegas who’d been threatened with violence over their bite was astounding.
And yet, people wanted to brush it away and treat it like nothing.

"And none of them have bitten him back?"

"Do you think a man as rich as Tod Setely doesn't have ways to ensure that any alpha he spends a
heat with won’t mate him in return?"

"So they know he's going to mate them? They know that till the day they die, they’ll never want to
fuck another person because Tod Setely’s bite is on their necks... and they still take the bite?"

"If you had a business idea that you needed money for and an omega billionaire was offering you
money, you’d take that fucking bite."

"No, I wouldn't."

"Well, he hasn't asked you."

That sounded absurd. And illegal.

"There has to be laws against this."

"Nope."

"How do you know?"

"Because he is the type of person gangs study, Porsche. He's rich and powerful and his hands are
clean. That’s the type of shit we aspire to be."

True, but a part of Porsche hated him for it. Because, there they were, out in the world, fighting for
omega rights and marriage equality, while the most powerful omega in the country was pretending
to be an alpha, and not giving a shit.

Porsche understood the need for privacy and anonymity, but he felt a lot of resentment towards the
man. He was doing it like no other omega that Porsche had ever heard of. The doors that his name
could have opened for activists were innumerable and he was just wasting it all on creating a harem
of alphas.

“Why are you meeting with him?”

“It wasn’t my meeting. Dad set one up with Macau.”

Porsche scoffed and sat back. There was really no limit to how deep Kun was willing to dig to put
his children, if he had prepared such a deal for Macau’s future.

“I still don’t understand what Papa was thinking.”

Of course he wouldn’t. Vegas’ blind spot was his father.

“Your brother’s expendable.”

“Excuse me?” he asked, tensely.

“Think about it,” Porsche said. “Your father lets you have these types of meetings, right? But now,
he’s sending your younger brother?”

“What does that mean?”

“He was trying to mate Macau to Setely.”

“No,” Vegas shook his head. “Papa wouldn’t-”

“You’re his heir. As long as you exist, his business is assured. But Macau’s usefulness lies in
marrying up.”

“This isn’t marrying up, Porsche. His alphas are workaholics, dedicated to him and their
companies. Macau is still a child.”

The door to the roof opened behind them.

A bunch of men in black suits marched out, tall, fit and capable. The type of men who shadowed
the Theerapanyakul’s. Except, Porsche didn’t recognize any of the men.

From the look on Vegas’ face, neither did he.

As they filed out, covering the exit, Vegas and Porsche stood. Porsche was a bit dizzy, standing so
quickly, but if there was about to be trouble, he’d rather be upright than on the ground.
For the second time, that night, he cursed that they’d chosen to come to the roof. How hard would
it be for these men to band together and toss Porsche and Vegas off the roof?

One of them broke away, coming towards them, a phone held out in front of him. He held the
phone against Vegas, then turned to Porsche and headed in Porsche’s direction.

“Can I have your jacket?”

Porsche looked at Vegas. He’d gone up there in a tank top. When he’d started to get cold, Vegas
had given him his jacket to wear. So, technically, the man ought to be asking Vegas.

“Give it to him,” Vegas said.

In situations like these, Porsche didn’t argue with any of the Theerapanyakul’s. He’d gotten in a
bar brawl once, with Kim, Kinn’s baby brother. Even with five years between them, Porsche being
older, he hadn’t hesitated to follow Kim’s lead. Because when it came to shit like this, Porsche was
a civilian. He may have grown up with them, but there were things about it that he would never
know or understand. If he wanted to stay alive, best to defer to the nearest Theerapanyakul.

Porsche took off the jacket and handed it to the man. He searched the front pockets of the jacket
and pulled out a business card from it.

“Hey,” Vegas said, stepping forward.

“Stay back,” the man said.

“I need that card,” Vegas said.

The man tossed the jacket back at Porsche, as another man walked out, through the exit. From
where they were standing, with the security lights shining down, they couldn’t see the man’s face.

“Vegas,” he said. “I had a feeling this had something to do with you.”

“Who are you?” Vegas asked.

Walking closer, his face got clearer as Porsche realized that this was Tod Setely. Dressed in a
green, silk shirt that was tucked into a pair of black pants, he was the spitting image of Vegas. And
with his aversion to buttons, he may as well be one of the Theerapanyakul’s.

“Ah,” Vegas said. “I was going to call you.”

“That card wasn’t meant for you,” Tod said. “When your brother didn’t call me last night, I knew
something was up.”

“I was-”

“You have no idea the disaster you could have caused me, Vegas. Good thing I remained on
suppressants or I’d be wailing in bed with no one to help.” He smiled at Vegas. “Is that what you
wanted? To have me in pain? All alone? Is it?”

“I was going to meet you.”

“So, you’re offering yourself as a replacement?”

“That…” Vegas hesitated. “That wasn’t entirely the plan.”

Tod tilted his head.

“I’m confused. What was the meeting for if you took the card I gave your brother and you weren’t
planning to replace him?”

For a second, Tod spared Porsche a glance and looked away. Then he paused and his eyes slid back
to Porsche and remained. His whole head turned to Porsche.

“Hello.” He held out his hand. “Tod Setely.”

Porsche looked from the hand to Vegas. When Vegas nodded and Porsche moved to take the hand,
Tod smiled at him.

“I see Vegas has trained you well.”

Porsche tried to pull his hand away, but Tod wouldn’t let go.

“Is this your brother’s replacement?”

“What?” Porsche asked, tugging his hand away.

“He’s an actor,” Vegas said, stepping towards them as the trigger-happy men behind Tod raised
their guns. When Vegas moved back, they lowered their guns. “He’s not the replacement.”

Tod laughed and paced, running his hand through his hair.

“Your father has been begging me for months to take your brother and when I finally agree, you
pull this shit?”

“I’ll think of something.”

“I have a cycle that’s about six weeks, too late and I’m losing my mind. Now, I understand that
people bend over backwards for you, Khun Vegas, but you’re messing with me now.”

Porsche didn’t know how clean Vegas thought Tod’s hands were, but he was sounding an awful lot
like a gang leader.

“My father didn’t discuss this with me.”

“Who gives a shit?” Tod asked. “I’m standing on a rooftop, in the middle of a night, with two
viable alphas. Now, one of you is going home with me, or I’ll throw a massive tantrum.” He
smiled, looking from Porsche to Vegas. “Who will it be?”

Two viable alphas? As far as the public was concerned, Porsche was just a beta.

“I’m not an alpha. Don’t look at me,” Porsche said, unable to help himself.

“Why not?” Tod asked, moving right into Porsche’s space.

He was a little taller than Porsche, but there wasn’t much lift when Porsche looked into his eyes,
refusing to back down.

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

“I won’t.”
“How much?” Tod asked.

“Sorry?”

“Everyone has a price.”

“Fuck you,” Porsche said as he stepped back, but Tod grabbed him by the arms to keep him in
place.

Without thinking, Porsche shrugged out of his grasp and when Tod tried to hold him again, he
swung back and punched Tod with all his might.

This time, when the guns came out, Porsche was sure they were going to shoot, but Vegas got to
the man who’d taken the jacket before any of them could do much. He grabbed his gun, punched
him in the face, cocked it and pointed it at Tod.

“Drop your weapons or I’ll shoot.”

Oh fuck , Porsche thought. Fuck fuck fuck! A gun fight? Again? On top of the hotel his current
project was camping nearly a hundred people including cast, crew and staff? Oh, this wasn’t going
to end well when the media got a hold of it.

This was why Porsche wasn’t allowed to think in these situations. But he was drunk. And in the
presence of the most predatory omega he’d ever met. Really, if this was what Tod Setely was like,
Porsche would rather not have him join the fight against inequality. The last thing he needed was
for people to hate omegas because a man like Tod was on the poster.

Tod laughed, bending over like he was about to die from how funny it all was. But it wasn’t. There
was a gun pointed at his head and he didn’t seem to care. Giggling, he stood upright, facing
Porsche as he walked closer.

“He’s not in charge, is he?” Tod asked Porsche.

“I don’t know what you’re-”

“I read cues for a living, Porsche Kittisawad. I read people.” Tod spat out blood, eyes never leaving
Porsche. “You're more important to him than his own life. Why else would he fuck up relations
between me and his father by pointing a gun at me, just because my people were going to shoot
you?”

Porsche was about to look at Vegas when Tod snapped his fingers in front of Porsche and brought
his attention back.

“Don’t look at him. I’m willing to let this go. I’m willing to forget this whole fiasco. I’m even
going to go as far as not fucking up your future, Porsche. Do you know why?”

Porsche’s heart was beating so fast in his chest that he didn’t know what to answer. One loose
bullet and everything would go crazy in a second. And while Vegas had one gun pointed at Tod,
there were eleven more facing them.

“Because I want to assume that you’re not stupid. Are you stupid, Porsche?”

Tod pulled out his wallet, completely nonchalant about the fact that Vegas still had a gun on him.
He took out a card, scanned it with his phone and slipped it into the pocket in Porsche’s jeans.
“Call me.”

Patting Porsche on the cheek, he motioned for his men to follow as he walked back into the
building. Vegas went to Porsche.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m so sorry,” Porsche said.

“You punched Tod Setely,” Vegas said, impressed.

Porsche shoved Vegas away, falling to the ground, weak at the knees.

“We could have been killed. Why are you laughing?”

“You alpha-ed the alpha’s alpha. Who knew you had it in you?”

“We could be dead right now.”

“You punched Tod Setely.”

“Stop saying that.”

Porsche lay back on the floor, gasping for air like he’d just run a marathon. Whatever high he’d
been on had cleared a while ago. Life threatening situations tended to sober people up.

Still laughing, Vegas dropped beside him, pulling the pack of beers into his lap as he opened one
and handed the other one to Porsche. Porsche collected the bottle and held it on his stomach, not
drinking. Because his mind was still reeling.

There was a card in his pocket. Judging from the phone scanning and the fact that Tod seemed to
have tracked them using the first card, Porsche could only assume that the one in his pocket had a
tracker on it, as well. Because Tod Setely had taken a shine to him.

“He called me an alpha. Twice.”

Vegas, who’d been downing his drink, paused, smacking his lips as he thought about. Then he
sighed, groaned and smacked his forehead.

“What is it?”

“One of his alphas owns Ohmovit.”

Porsche sat up.

“Ohmovit, as in the production house that’s staging “Overheat”?”

“Yeah,” Vegas said, cringing a little bit.

“So, you’re saying I just punched a man who’s probably read my contract and knows that I’m an
alpha with CCD?”

Vegas nodded.

“Fuck!”

“I’m sorry,” Vegas repeated. “I did this.”

“I’m the one who punched him.”

“Porsche-”

“Vegas,” Porsche called back, looking at his friend. “What were your options? Were you supposed
to let your brother get mated to someone he doesn't even know?”

Vegas didn’t have a rebuttal to that because Porsche was right. He couldn’t imagine it but if he’d
been in Vegas’ shoes and someone was looking at Chay funny, Porsche would have done a
thousand more just to keep his brother out of it. Vegas had done nothing wrong.

Burying his head between his knees, Porsche played back his entire conversation with Tod. I read
cues for a living . Unafraid of guns, Tod had seen Porsche and approached him, regardless.
Everyone has a price .

He was right. Porsche was only just realizing that the price didn’t have to be money.

Sometimes, it was the secrets that a man would do anything to keep secret.
 The rules of submission
Chapter Notes

Trigger warning:
- trauma responses
- doormat Porsche (I promise, this is going somewhere)
- horrible negotiation

Covered in sweat, on his elbows and knees, Kinn quivered. He couldn't remember the last time he'd
felt so open, sating himself on another man's dick, lying there as someone else catered to his needs.
He loved it so much. He hadn't felt this good in a while, not that he would ever let another person
do this to him, or put him in this position.

"Uh… uh… uh," he moaned, fingers clenching at his bedspread as he lurched, closer and closer
and closer.

A hand pressed down on the back of his neck and Kinn shook it off. When the hand pressed again,
Kinn's hips stuttered as he tried to stop, trying to regain some control.

"Wait," he said, raising himself up.

An arm came around his chest, holding him in place as the angle nudged at Kinn's insides, a
sensation so feverishly delicious that Kinn nearly forgot what was wrong.

"Porsche don't-" he started to say as he felt Porsche's teeth sink into his neck, breaking skin and
piercing deep.

***

Kinn opened his eyes.

His hand rose to his neck, checking to verify that that was just a dream. It wasn't real. He'd never
even bottomed for Porsche.

His eyes were wet with tears that he shed while asleep. When he turned, the soaked bed, mixed
with a pungent smell of urine hitting the air, alerted Kinn to the other happenings, while he was
asleep.

Kinn reached for his phone, dialing but not realizing what he was doing.

"Kinn?" Tay asked. "Are you okay?"

No, he wasn't. But he didn't know what to say. He had no idea how to talk about it, or if he had any
right to talk about it at all.

"I'm coming."

Ten minutes later, Tay was pulling the soiled sheets from Kinn's bed as Kinn sat in a corner in a
fresh pair of pajama bottoms and a blanket around his shoulders.
"What happened?" Tay asked, rolling them all into a bundle and dumping them by the door.

Kinn didn't reply.

"Has this happened before?"

Kinn nodded.

"When?"

"Some days, these past two weeks."

"You don't want to talk about it?"

"I..." Kinn wanted to lie. But he really wanted to talk about it. "I can't."

Tay scrunched his face up, like he was trying to be patient, as he dragged the desk chair closer to
Kinn and sat.

"You must realize how that sounds to me, Kinn."

"I'm sorry."

"The last time you couldn't talk about something, Awut was in town looking for you."

"I know."

"Then tell me what's going on."

"I can't," Kinn sobbed, covering his head with the blanket.

"Is it Awut?"

Kinn shook his head.

"Is it another alpha?"

Kinn didn't move.

"Did he hurt you?"

"No." Kinn pulled the blanket off. "I can't explain it. I'm just... I'm not hurt."

"Something's wrong if you're wetting your bed and crying at three in the morning, Kinn."

Kinn didn't have to be told. He knew that already. He was living through his worst nightmare and
he couldn't even do anything about it. Where was he supposed to start? Who was he supposed to
talk to? How could he talk about this without exposing Porsche?

Most importantly, why the fuck did he still care about keeping Porsche's secrets when Porsche
hadn't cared about Kinn enough to tell the truth?

"Please don't ask me who he is."

"Kinn-"

"Every time I see him, I feel like I'm dying, Tay."

"Oh, Kinn," Tay said, sadly.

"I wouldn't have done it," he explained. "I swear. If I knew he was an alpha, I would never have..."
he didn't know how to finish that part. "He didn't tell me he was an alpha."

"And now you have feelings for him."

Kinn hadn't felt this vulnerable in so long. He wasn't giving Tay the whole picture but that was it,
right there. Kinn had feelings.

Porsche wasn't the first alpha to like Kinn or want his attention. After Awut, Kinn couldn't even
imagine the idea of another alpha touching him like that. But with Porsche, he'd allowed himself to
like him, to want everything they did, to wish for more, to long for Porsche like he was an oasis
and Kinn was stuck in a desert.

"None of this is your fault."

"I know that. I'm not stupid," he said, leaning back on the wall. "I just wish..." Kinn sighed. "I wish
I didn't have to see him anymore."

"Then don't."

"We're both working here."

"So leave," Tay said with a shrug.

"I can't leave. What of Pete?"

"Send a replacement. You have an entire company of management staff."

Kinn shook his head. He didn't want Pete alone in a fluid and ever-changing project like
“Overheat”. Most plays didn't camp for so long. And most plays didn't come with politically
controversial twists that were written and rewritten based on changes in the social climate. Kinn
wanted to be here if they showed up to practice, one day, and producers and/or directors were
asking for things that weren't in the contract. Pete could take care of himself, most times. But Kinn
didn't want him to have to.

Pete's job was to act.

Kinn's job was to make sure higher-ups didn't take advantage.

Most managers were trained to stand against that, but Kinn didn't want to take the chance. Not with
Pete.

"I understand that you care about Pete, but do you think he'd want you staying around here if you
were this fucked up about something?"

The answer was no. Pete wouldn't like it.

“I don’t want to go.”

"Fine then, send his number one fan," Tay said. "Go home. Take a break. Threaten some debtors.
Attend boring board meetings. Clear your mind. Okay?"

As Tay stood to call room service, Kinn looked at his phone as he summoned the courage to call
Tankhun.
***

Kinn survived the whole day without being close to Porsche. Besides seeing him practice, Kinn
was Porsche-free. He didn't see him during lunch, or during break. He didn't try to corner Kinn
outside of practice.

Kinn even managed to go a few minutes without thinking about Porsche.

After dinner, after he'd confirmed Tankhun's early arrival the next morning, Kinn packed his things
into the wardrobe, to keep them out of Tankhun's way and left.

While he waited for his car, at the valet, his phone rang.

"What is it?"

"Khun-Kinn," Ken said, breathing heavily. "I'm sorry to bother you, but we need back-up."

“What is it?” he asked Ken.

“Khun-Vegas went up to the roof to have a drink. We were watching him but then Tod Setely
showed up with a bunch of guards and right now, they’re up there. We tried to block them, but it
was two of us against all of them.”

Kinn waved to the hotel staff waiting at the valet as he rushed back inside, knowing that Big would
see him and follow.

“Where are you now?”

Ken groaned, like he was in pain.

“We’re heading to the North-east exit. Hopefully, they wouldn’t have blocked that side up.”

“I’ll call you when I’m at the South-west exit.”

He called Big.

“Boss.”

“On me,” Kinn said. “Now.”

By the time he got to the elevator, Big and Book (Kinn’s other shadow) were entering the elevator
beside him.

“What happened?” Big asked.

“Ken said Vegas is in trouble.”

Kinn held out his hand as Big handed Kinn his gun while Big and Book armed themselves with
guns from their shin-guard.

They alighted the elevator on the highest floor, quickly found the exit to the stairs as they quietly
made their way up to the roof exit. Kinn tested the door by pressing down on the huge handle as it
popped open. Behind him, Big called Ken.

“We’re here.”
“Ask him if he has a visual on Vegas.”

“He doesn’t.”

Entering quietly, Kinn listened for voices. There were a lot of vents and pillars in the way, so it
was hard to see all the way across. But that also meant that they had good cover, moving from spot
to spot. The hotel was large and checking through the roof without calling out to Vegas took a
while. By the time they converged on the south-east corner, where Ken said Vegas had exited
from, Kinn couldn’t see anyone. Peeping out, he saw Ken on the other side, but there were no
guards. No Setely.

Stepping out from behind the shed, Kinn heard voices. Slowly, he walked towards the voices, gun
in hand, as he made a turn from behind a pillar, coming face to face with Vegas.

And Porsche.

“Boss,” Ken called, running to Vegas' side as Porsche stood up.

Kinn focused on Vegas, who was still sitting on the floor, surrounded by empty beer bottles.

“What happened?” Kinn asked.

“It was nothing.”

“Vegas,” Kinn said, sternly. If Tod Setely was sniffing around his cousin, then that was trouble for
them. The shame and disrespect would be immeasurable if other clans heard that Vegas
Theerapanyakul was a Setely alpha.

“It’s fine.”

“If Setely wants you-”

“I’m not his type,” Vegas said. “We’re good here. You don’t have to worry.”

Kinn wanted to prod, but he could tell that Vegas was uncomfortable. He may have been telling the
truth, but something happened with Setely. Something that Vegas was worried about but didn’t
think he could trust Kinn with. Kinn knew he shouldn’t let it go. Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe Vegas
didn’t want to talk about it with other people around. Maybe if Kinn called him later, they could
iron this all out. Either way, Kinn wasn’t going to let it go.

He allowed Vegas his autonomy when dealing with minor family business because Kun hated
Kinn’s involvement more than anything. Even though Kun would never say it to Kinn’s face. So
Kinn stayed out of it. Vegas was his own person. He’d grown up having fifty hands and the brain
to compute a hundred different deals at the same time. Vegas could handle almost anything.

But if Tod Setely was involved, Kinn wasn’t planning to stand by and let it go.

Making up his mind, Kinn turned to go when something caught his eye. It was dark, but there were
security lights above them. Not bright enough to read with, but enough to catch the glint of a gold
card.

The kind of card that Setely liked to leave with his intended alphas.

Only, this time, it was in Porsche's hand.

Kinn walked closer to Porsche, for the first time in weeks, and took the card from Porsche's hand
with no resistance. And truly, there was "T. Setely" engraved on the front of the card, while the
back was lined with a silver, digital strip.

"Tell me," Kinn said, praying his voice sounded as steady as he was struggling to make it sound. "I
have misunderstood the situation."

"I told him no," Porsche said.

"And yet, you still have his card."

"I'll leave you two to it."

Vegas got up, shooing the bodyguards away as they cleared out of the area, leaving Kinn alone
with Porsche.

"Why did he give this to you?"

This was only Porsche, Kinn had to remind himself. But, at the back of his mind, he was still very
aware of the fact that this was an alpha standing before him. For years, Kinn had always taken for
granted that Porsche could control him. Everyone joked about it. Kinn had a soft spot.

That was because Kinn was allowing it to happen. Not because he was compelled. At the end of
the day, true control sat with Kinn. The power was in his hands, with the choice to relinquish or
establish as he saw fit.

But now, he was forced to re-evaluate what the past few weeks had been between them. Where had
the control truly been? If Porsche was an alpha, then the dynamics were so much different. With
Porsche holding all the information, guiding Kinn in the way he wanted, making Kinn his and only
his.

In trying to avoid contact with him, Kinn had kept his sanity by a string.

Until now.

"Answer me, Porsche," he said, deepening his voice to add more power, yet feeling like a phony.

"He gave it to me."

"And you kept it."

"Stop..." Porsche said. "Stop treating me like I'm lying to you."

"It wouldn't be the first time."

"What do I have to do to make you trust me again?"

"You know what? It's not even any of my business."

He tossed the card at Porsche and turned to the door as Porsche ran around to block his path.

"What would it take for you to stop hating me?"

"Get out of my way."

"I want to be in your life again."

"You want?" Kinn asked, stopping. "We're doing things according to what you want now?"

"That came out wrong."

Kinn shoved him so hard that Porsche stumbled out of the way. Desperately seeking some freedom
from Porsche, Kinn rushed to the exit. Just as he got there, his hand reaching for it, Porsche spoke.

"I am not Awut."

Kinn's hand hovered over the handle, seething in silence.

"What did you just say to me?"

"I know what you're afraid of, Kinn," he said.

"You do, do you?" Kinn turned back to him.

"I am not trying to dominate you in any way."

Kinn scoffed.

"I swear. I know what people think of two alphas, but neither of us has to sacrifice who we are or
what we want."

"I don't want you, Porsche."

"We both know that's not true."

The anger swelling inside of Kinn pushed him forward, placing one leg in front of the other.
Marveling at the ignorance and arrogance being displayed. Because how could Porsche not know...
not see... not hear what he was saying? His language was too neutral to be a coincidence, and yet,
the silent commands in them were obvious to Kinn. "We both know", Porsche had said like there
was no alternative. "I know what you're afraid of", he'd said like he knew what was best for Kinn.
"I am not Awut", he'd said, like he was the better option.

"Do you hear yourself?" Kinn asked.

"I am being sincere here."

"Are you?"

"I don't want to control you."

"So do you want me to control you, instead?" Kinn asked.

Because this was always the rub with people who claimed that they did not want to control.
Because it would always be “control or be controlled” and if someone was claiming to relinquish
control, then he was asking someone else to take it.

"Why does anyone have to control anybody? Why can't we just be?"

"Because that's not how it fucking works?"

He'd tried to believe in the equality of partners with Awut but it wasn't possible. Even in a family.
Even among friends. Even in the workplace. An alpha stood at the top. If there were two alphas at
the top, one had to stand higher.
"Is that what you want?" Porsche asked him. "To control me? Do you... do you want me to what?
Kneel before you? Bow to you? Kiss your feet? Is that it?"

"Yes," Kinn said, without thinking about it.

Porsche blinked, taking a step back from Kinn.

"What?"

When he thought about it, Kinn realized that that was exactly what he wanted. If Porsche wanted
his trust, if Porsche wanted to be in his life again, he had to prove that he wasn't the threat that Kinn
perceived him to be.

"You asked, Porsche."

"You can't be serious."

Kinn laughed, seeing right through Porsche. Because, of course, everything he was saying was
bullshit. He was saying what he thought Kinn wanted to hear and now that Kinn was asking for
action, Porsche's true intentions were exposing themselves.

"I'm serious."

"Kinn-"

Without waiting to listen, Kinn turned back to the door.

"Okay," Porsche yelled, dropping to his knees, immediately. "I'm kneeling. Look at me, please."

Kinn looked down at him, taking in the quivering of Porsche's lips as he stared up at Kinn, eyes
glistening with tears.

"Go ahead then."

"Go ahead to what?" Porsche asked.

"Kneeling wasn't the only thing you mentioned."

Kinn would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the spurt of triumph that ran through his body when
he saw the defeat in Porsche’s eyes. After everything Porsche had put him through, this was
nothing. If he wanted Kinn as much as he was claiming, he would do this.

Placing his hands on the floor, Porsche gently bowed his head to the ground. After a few seconds,
he sat back on his heels, looking up at Kinn. Elated, feeling appeased, Kinn’s heart soared at
Porsche’s submission. Because he’d never really thought about it while they were fucking. But in
that moment, watching Porsche bow to him, Kinn realized that this was something he could get
used to. Having Porsche submit this way, having another alpha want him to the point of devotion,
was a drug that Kinn was already growing to want.

“That’s not all,” Kinn said.

Porsche looked from Kinn’s feet, up to his eyes.

“Is this really what you want from me, Kinn?”

“Are you saying no?”

“Don’t make me do this.”

“I’m not making you do anything,” Kinn said with a shrug. “If you don’t want to, you can always
just get up and go.”

Porsche pressed his lips together, moving up to his knees as he crawled closer to Kinn, bowed one
more time and kissed Kinn’s shoes.

Awash with disbelief, Kinn watched the back of Porsche’s head, willing reality to return to him.
Begging for whatever dream this was to end, so that he could realize that it wasn’t real. That
Porsche wasn’t offering Kinn unquestioning submission to the point that he would literally crawl
on his knees to kiss Kinn’s feet.

It couldn’t be true.

Crouching, as Porsche sat back, Kinn held him by the chin, lifting his head, even as tears ran down
his face. He was still a beautiful sight to behold, even while crying. His lips still felt like beguiling
pillows, drawing Kinn in to soak himself in their warmth. He wanted Porsche and that would
always be true.

But trust? Trust was the issue here. And Kinn had to make sure.

“Look at me,” he said.

Porsche obeyed.

“Tell me,” Kinn said, fingers still caressing Porsche’s soft lips. “That you belong to me.”

Porsche opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“Say it, or I’ll leave.”

“Kinn-”

“Say it.”

“I…” Porsche hesitated. “I…”

Kinn dropped his hands from Porsche, about to turn away.

“I belong to you,” Porsche said.

And if anyone had ever asked, Kinn would never have believed that all his problems could be
solved, by hearing the calm quiet utterance, of four simple words from Porsche’s lips.
 The biggest mistake

With the news of Tankhun's arrival, Pete anticipated some pampering, a night out, a care package
from his grandmother, but most importantly, a barrier between him and Vegas, during waking
hours.

He'd been lucky that a door stood between him and Vegas, the night before, but without the door,
when he had to go to rehearsal, when he had to move around, Vegas would find him. And Pete
didn't want to be around him. Not when he wasn’t sure of feelings. He needed a minute to sort out
his thoughts, work through whatever the fuck his dick was going through and get over Vegas so
that he could go back to doing what he had to do.

He was sitting on almost two weeks of recordings that he hadn't sent. Recordings that he couldn't
send because every time his hand went to do it, his brain just sort of... shut down. Some space from
Vegas would be divine. And Tankhun was all encompassing. Tankhun would take up his time, his
space. Tankhun would keep Vegas away much more easily than Kinn ever would.

But he didn't wake up to Tankhun's loud voice. He didn't receive a special order of room service.
There was no package from his grandmother. Nothing. He woke up the next morning and went
about his day like nothing new and exciting was happening.

Walking into the rehearsal room for breakfast, Pete realized what the problem was when he saw
Kinn, already seated on the ground with Porsche at his side.

"I thought you were leaving," Pete said.

Kinn looked up, swallowing a mouth-full.

"Good morning to you, too."

"Sorry," Pete said, sitting with them. "Porsche, good morning."

"Hey." Porsche nodded at him.

"Where's Phi-Tankhun?"

"He's not coming, but don't worry. Book went to get your care package from your grandmother. It
should be here this evening."

That was the least of Pete's problems. As he looked around for Vegas, he shifted closer to Kinn,
gaining concerned looks from both Kinn and Porsche, but Pete didn't care. He had to focus. Focus
on his job, on honing his chemistry with Porsche, on not getting exposed by Wan. If he could do
that, he wouldn't have to worry about Vegas.

"Are you alright?" Porsche asked him.

"Yeah," he said, still looking around for Vegas.

He knew he should focus, but he couldn't help imagining what he'd do if Vegas approached him in
public. After all, Vegas was brazen enough to do so. If he wanted to talk to Pete, who would stop
him? Who would get in his way? Would Pete even object? Would he resist if Vegas showed up
and asked to talk to him in private? What would his reason for avoidance be?
He checked his phone, realizing that Vegas hadn't called him since he came by the room the night
before.

Pete should have been thankful. If Vegas was taking a hint then that was a good thing. Right?

Absent-mindedly, Pete picked his egg from his plate and moved it into Porsche's plate. As he
moved his plate closer to select Porsche’s greens, Kinn’s chopsticks blocked him.

"What are you doing?" Kimn asked.

"Getting my greens," Pete said.

"They’re Porsche’s greens."

And to Pete's surprise, Kinn picked the egg Pete had put in Porsche’s plate and put it back in Pete's
plate.

And to his added surprise, Porsche didn't say anything. Didn’t complain or insist or anything. He
just sat there, eating like Kinn hadn't taken away the very egg that Porsche always gripped and
asked for like he couldn't afford a million more eggs.

Looking between the two of them, Pete took a break from his own melodrama to note the quiet
tension between the two of them. Because it was there. He hadn't seen it before, never noticed what
it was because Porsche was always making noise so it was hard to get a read on anything around
him.

But with the noise and bluster out of the way, Pete could see it. They were sitting apart, but their
knees were touching, rocking against each other like a pair of hands itching to touch but scared to
do so. Pete was such a fool. Because every time Porsche didn't spend the night in his room,
Porsche was always at breakfast, sitting beside Kinn. Always with Kinn and no one else.

Pete had asumed he was fucking someone but he never saw Porsche with another person. And
given that Porsche wasn't an omega and Kinn only dated omegas...

Pete thought back to a couple of weeks prior at the radio station, when Porsche had forgotten to
take his suppressants and was exhibiting signs of a heat.

Oh fuck.

The irony. The fact that Ohmovit had hired two omegas to play omegas on stage while they were
both pretending to be betas was hilarious. Frightening. But hilarious.

And Kinn was with Porsche. Wow. But also, what the fuck?

"You always eat my egg," Pete said to Porsche, hoping to spark some fight out of him. Because
was this what it had come to? Did the outspoken omega crumble before an alpha just because he
was getting good dick?

"I don't want it. It's fine."

"Please just eat your food," Kinn said to Pete. "You need all the protein you can get."

Protein was not the point.

Of all the fucking omega stereotypes for Porsche to be, he chose the strong, independent omega
who gave it all up for the first alpha who looked in his direction.
As someone who'd seen this a bunch of times, Pete knew this wasn't the time. Poking at Porsche in
front of Kinn wasn't the best thing to do. And yeah, Kinn always treated Porsche like precious
metal. But who knew what he was really like behind closed doors? Who knew what he’d done to
make Porsche quiet down without a fight?

At the end of the day, Pete also had to remember that Kinn was, in a lot of ways, a very dangerous
man. The fact that he let them get away with a lot didn't mean Pete could disrespect him.

Quietly, Pete ate, waiting for the director to show up as the actors were called away. As soon as
they got far from Kinn, as soon as they were all within the confines of the rehearsal space with the
other actors, Pete cornered Porsche, making sure there were a bunch of actors between them and
Kinn.

"Is everything alright with you and Kinn?"

"Is this about the egg?" Porsche asked, laughing.

"This is about you not fighting back."

"If I remember correctly, you said that in order to be a better omega on stage, I have to adjust my
way of thinking. Give way to others."

"That's not-" Pete nearly choked on his words. "This is not what I meant. Especially when it
involves someone you're sleeping with."

"What?" Porsche asked, tensing as he looked around in fear.

"Let's not waste time pretending, Porsche. I just need to know if you're okay. If he's doing anything
that you don't want-"

"He's not," Porsche said, hurriedly.

"Porsche-"

"I'm the one who fucked up."

He frowned at Porsche.

Porsche squinted then shut his eyes and sighed at the ceiling.

"I know how that sounds," Porsche said. "I swear to you, Pete, I did something... something I'm too
ashamed to even tell you because," he let out a sad laugh, running his hands through his hair. "I did
something bad and if you knew, you’d be pissed at me too."

"So he's using that to control you? Because that's not any better."

"You don’t understand."

"Then explain it to me."

“Pete,” Porsche said, sounding tired. “I’m not a child. I know what I’m doing.”

As the director called for everyone’s attention and Porsche moved away from him, Pete couldn’t
help wondering if that was true at all. Because there was nothing special about this situation.
Porsche wasn't different from the rest of them. He was just as susceptible to socialized self-hatred
and disdain. Which was why he’d fallen for this. It wasn’t what Pete would have expected from
him.

Then again, Pete would never have expected that someone like Kinn would be the kind of alpha
who subdued his partner like this.

For any reason at all.

***

Vegas was gone from camp for the rest of the week. And if Pete spent his free time listening to
Vegas' voice, pretending they were in the same room, no one had to know.

Either way, listening to the bug was how Pete found out that they were planning a sweep of the
entire compound for bugs, during the weekend. And if they swept Vegas' room, Pete's bug would
be discovered.

That Friday, after rehearsals, Pete took a cab to Vegas' home. He could afford to see Vegas one
more time. Even if he knew he was emotionally compromised, Pete was willing to risk it, rather
than get discovered. It would just be one night. He knew that if he saw Vegas, they’d end up
fucking. He could allow for it to happen one more time. One last night. That was all. That was all it
had to be.

No big deal.

As he got to the compound, the gates opened as soon as the men saw it was Pete. He was let in and
taken right to Vegas' room.

"Where's Vegas?" Pete asked the man who was leading him down the corridor.

"Khun-Vegas isn't home but we have standing orders to let you in if you ever show up."

"Oh," he said.

This was the best case scenario. He could get in and get out without having to see Vegas. As soon
as the door closed behind him, leaving him alone in the room, Pete ran to the table, kneeling down
as he felt around for the bug and pulled it out. Smiling to himself, he kissed it for no reason. As he
put it into his bag and zipped it close, Vegas' door dinged, buzzing open as someone entered into
the room.

Pete's heart sank because he'd been hoping to get in and out without having to look Vegas in the
eye.

When he turned around, it wasn't Vegas in the room.

"Hey," a boy said, leaning against the door, breathing heavily. "You must be Pete. Have you seen
my brother?"

Taking in the pointed look and the dubiously curious eyes, Pete could see the family resemblance.

"No, I haven't seen him." Pete extended his hand for a handshake. "Macau, I presume."

There was a bang at the door as Macau jumped away from the door. Getting close to the boy, Pete
noted redness on his face, the handprint around his neck and the busted lip.

Clenching his teeth, he reminded himself that Vegas' family issues were not any of his business.
He'd come here to extract himself from Vegas, not dive deeper into Vegas' world.
"Macau!" a familiar voice shouted from beyond the door.

Pete knew that voice. He heard it in Vegas' recordings. It was a voice that was often followed by
smacks and slaps and groans of pain. Kun Theerapanyakul.

Macau moved away from the door, coming to stand behind Pete.

"Is that your father?" Pete asked.

"Ye-yeah."

Walk away, Pete, he said to himself.

As Kun burst into the room, he looked around, minimally composing himself the moment he saw
Pete. He was an older man, one Pete may have conceded as handsome, if the circumstances were
different. Dressed in a gray suit, a flimsy, floral shirt and a necktie, he was the very definition of a
mafia boss.

“Who are you?” Kun asked.

“I am Pete. I am a friend of Vegas.”

Deciding that Pete didn’t warrant more of his attention, he looked at his son.

“Macau, come here.”

That was Pete’s cue to leave. Securing his bag over his shoulder, he headed for the door when he
heard the first hit land, skin to skin, loud, echoing in the quiet room. In the presence of a stranger.

Pete could remember what it felt like, to choose between pain and shame, knowing that the people
around you knew what was happening but were indifferent to stop it. At some point, Pete had
stopped looking to others to help. They had to know. If his father could hit him in public, shove
him down the stairs, violate him where others could see, they should have all imagined what he
was doing when no one was around, when the doors closed and the lights shut off.

He opened the door to leave when he heard Macau groaned at the landing of another hit.

“I was going to go,” Macau cried. “Phi-Vegas said-”

“So your brother’s word stands over mine?”

Another hit.

“Please, Papa.”

When Kun raised his hand again, Pete hissed, rushing back to grab him from bringing down that
hand on his fallen son.

“I think that’s enough, Sir.”

Hearing those words from his own lips, Pete was drawn back to his own past. The many times he’d
prayed that someone would do it for him. The dreams he’d dreamt that one day, it would stop, not
because his father had beaten him till the old man was too tired to lift another finger, but because
someone had gotten in the way. Someone had stepped up for Pete.

That’s enough, Pete had wished someone would say.

Having to say those words, himself, was elating.

Angry, Kun shoved into Pete, pushing him so hard that Pete fell on the ground.

“How dare you?” he asked, turning away from his son to face Pete. “You’re nothing but another
harlot in my son’s bed.”

“Beating your children won’t solve anything.”

Kun roared, pouncing on Pete with his foot as he rose it up to step down. But Pete rolled out of the
way, getting to his feet, just in time to dodge a heavy punch headed his way. Unfortunately, he
didn’t dodge fast or far enough because Kun caught him around the waist and flung Pete into the
wall as Pete bashed his face, breaking his nose.

This time, when he fell, there was a trickle down the front of his face. He was surely bleeding.

“I’m going to teach you a lesson,” Kun said, taking off his jacket.

Pete really should have stayed out of it.

“I’m sorry if I…” Pete’s heart pounded loudly. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“No no,” Kun said, shaking his head. “Don’t back down, now.” He folded the sleeves of his shirt,
while Macau shrunk into a corner, away from the chaos.

Pete crawled backwards, careful to keep Kun in his sight. There was a door, not far from him. But
Macau was on the other side of the room. If Pete ran, Kun might turn his anger back to the boy. As
soon as Pete’s hand hit the wall, there was nowhere else to go, so he stood up, wiping his nose to
look at his hand and yeah. Blood.

“Haven’t they taught you to mind your business?” Kun asked, strolling towards Pete.

“Violence doesn’t solve anything.”

He slapped Pete, grabbed him by the collar, pulled him forward and slammed him back into the
wall. Pete brought his hands down on Kun's elbows, weakening his hold as he decked him
sideways with his elbow. When Kun shouted and stepped back, Pete kicked him in the face,
mustering all the strength he could bring and sending Kun into a spin as he fell away. Screaming
for his guards, Kun knelt on the floor, fuming in anger.

"Macau, come," Pete said, reaching for the boy as he ran to Pete. As soon as he took Pete's hand,
he ran straight for the door, opening it. Coming into view of two bouldering men, Pete stepped
back into the room.

"Move away," Macau said to the men.

They were about to obey as Kun shouted from within, "Don't let that whore go."

Macau stood in front of Pete, but the guards moved him out of the way as two more men came in,
grabbing Pete by the hand as he struggled to be free.

"Let him go," Macau said, even as his voice quieted from him being dragged out of the room and
down the hall. "Papa, please..."

They kicked Pete in the knees, putting him on the ground as they each held a hand, securing him
by the shoulder, making sure he was unable to move.
Kun took his time to stand, groaning and cussing. He stood in place, touching his face, flexing his
jaw and neck, as if assessing the damage. At this point, Pete stopped fighting. This man was
Vegas' father. If Vegas was a menace, this was the root, the source. If there was any truth to the
stories of what Vegas got up in his many dungeons, then this man would need all the energy Pete
could muster.

"I see you have an attachment to both my sons," Kun said, squatting before Pete. "I'd like to see
what you make of that attachment when Vegas is peeling your skin from your flesh on my behalf."

Pete laughed.

"You think this is funny?" Kun asked.

None of this was funny. Pete was laughing because he was so fucking fucked. He should have
gotten his fucking bug and left. He'd never even met Macau before. Nothing he'd done had
changed anything. He'd only made it worse.

This must have been what everyone knew. This must have been why they never stepped in to help
Pete from his father. Because they knew it wouldn't actually be helpful. They weren’t indifferent.
They were aware.

Because unlike Pete, they'd all been smart enough to know that when it wasn't your business, you
really ought to stay the fuck out of it.
 The prisoner
Chapter Notes

It's been a while

Till Vegas barged into his dungeon to find Pete naked on the floor, bound hands hanging above his
head, with long, bleeding lashes crossing his chest, Vegas didn't believe it.

"Pete," he whispered, walking closer, hands stretched out to touch.

He could see it. He could understand that, as he'd been told, Pete had hit Papa, and as such, was
being punished. He'd seen many people in this dungeon, cut many people, killed some. He'd bled
men and women, tortured them within an inch of their sanity.

But to look at Pete in that state was a new kind of agony.

Passed out from the pain, Pete's head hung forward between his hands that were strained and
bleeding above him. Covered in sweat and blood, Pete slumbered, vulnerable to anything Papa
must have put him through.

Vegas could just imagine it. Judging from the way he was kept, he had to have been hanging from
the ceiling, his body dangling below as Papa whipped him into oblivion. He wondered if Pete had
cried or shouted or begged. He wondered if Pete had hissed at Papa, rendering more curses, egging
Papa on because he didn't want to show fear.

"Pete," Vegas said, checking for a pulse.

Papa had been called to a meeting, abandoning his prisoner for the time being. But he would be
back. He would require Vegas to take his place. He would ask Vegas to do things that Vegas wasn't
sure he'd be able to do. Being caught between his duty to his father and his feelings for Pete was
not the place to be. He'd never even thought he'd be here. Not in a million years.

What were the odds that Pete would visit, on the same day Macau was running from his father?
What were the odds that Pete would step in to protect a boy he'd never even met? What were the
odds that Pete would do the one thing Vegas had never had the courage to do? As an omega, what
were the odds?

Crying quietly, he knelt before Pete, holding his limp body in his arms, very aware that even
though he wanted to, he couldn't even think of unlocking the cuffs that the chains were bound to.
He didn't want to hurt Pete, but he couldn't let him go. Papa would be furious. Papa would find
Pete and do worse.

A phone vibrated through the dungeon.

Looking at the table in the corner, Vegas noticed Pete's sling bag. It was squeezed into itself, with
the sling wrapped around the body. Its tight weave allowed the light of the vibrating phone to shine
through.

Letting go of Pete, Vegas crawled to the bag, opened it and saw that Kinn was calling. Wiping his
eyes and seeing an answer to all his prayers, Vegas took the call.

"Hey, Pete-"

"Phi-Kinn, I'm going to need you to do something without asking too many questions."

"Vegas," Kinn said. "What are you doing with Pete's phone?"

"He got in trouble with Papa. You need to get back-up, come here and take him."

"From the minor family home."

"Come now. Please."

"On my way."

As soon as he cut the call, he was about to put Pete's phone back when he saw a tiny, dark blue,
square case. But he ignored it, putting Pete's phone back in the bag and wrapping it around before
placing it back on the table. When he turned to crawl back to Pete, Vegas stopped.

Because it couldn't be. He had to be imagining it. There was no way what he thought was in that
case was what was in that case. There had to be an explanation.

And yet, he couldn't crawl away. Picking up the bag again, Vegas unwrapped it and opened it. He
took out the square case, praying he was mistaken. It had to be something else. There was no
reason why someone like Pete would be walking around the place with expensive, listening
devices in his purse.

As he popped open the case to find the black, silicon bud within, Vegas tilted his head in
confusion. Why would Pete have this? Where did he find it? Was it his? Had he put it on someone
or had someone put it on him?

Vegas wanted to know. But he also understood that whatever Pete was doing was Pete's business.
He was an omega in show business. He had to be vigilant and have eyes at the back of his head.
Whatever he was doing was for his own benefit and Vegas couldn't fault him for that.

Except...

Pete had to be in trouble. Beyond the chaos that was Vegas' father, who knew what else Pete got up
to? A part of him said he should leave the case. Put it back and tend to Pete's bruised body. But
another part, the curious part, got the best of him.

He opened the case again, just so he could see the brand of the device. Then he took out Pete's
phone and went to his body, wiping the sweat from Pete's thumb, Vegas opened the phone. He
searched for the app that had the same name as the device. When he clicked on it, the app asked
for a thumbprint.

He used Pete's thumb, but it didn't work. He tried all of Pete's fingers, on both hands, but nothing
worked. He was about to give up when he thought to try toes. It was a long shot and they didn't
work.

Until he tried the small toe on his left foot.

As soon as it swooshed open, a list of items flooded the screen, titled by date and time. He clicked
the latest one and it was nothing but white noise. After about two minutes of nothing, he decided to
scroll up to the very first one.

At first, it was nothing. He raised his finger to go back when he heard a door creak and close.

"Is that for me?" Pete asked, in the recording.

"I made the kitchen add extra spice."

Vegas gasped as Pete's phone slipped from his hand when he heard his own voice. Unable to
move, he stood there, listening to the recording.

"You didn't have to-" Pete's voice cut off.

Vegas could remember why. He could remember what he was listening to like it was yesterday. It
was Pete's first visit to the mansion. He'd been pushy about visiting, claiming that Vegas had
abandoned him after they'd fucked.

That cut off in Pete's words had been Vegas kissing him. Because Pete had been so coy about the
noodles. He'd been gracious enough to eat everything Vegas was eating. But he didn't like the
salads. He didn't like the foreign food. He'd mentioned that he wished it was more spicy. So the
first chance Vegas got, he ordered spicy noodles for Pete, just so he could give Pete what he
wanted.

"Mmm," Pete moaned, as fabric rustled around. "We can't-" the sound of their lips smacking apart.
"Let's eat- Vegas," he giggled. "Stop."

"Why? You're getting hard aga-"

He picked up the phone and pressed stop, unable to listen to it anymore. His throat felt tight. He
took a couple of big, shaky breaths, but he continued to feel even more constricted. Leaning on the
table, Vegas grabbed his chest. His head felt woozy and he couldn't breathe. Crying, he fell to his
knees as he put his head on the table.

How could he have been so stupid? He'd put himself and his family in danger, over a man who
was... oh fuck, he was the leak. Pete was the reason Gambit was coming behind Vegas, scooping
up his bids and getting in his way. When he'd scrolled through the phone, it had taken a while for
him to go from the recent recording to the very first. Weeks of material that Pete was selling to
Vegas' enemies. Putting Vegas' people's lives at risk.

He must have looked like such a fool, following after Pete like a dog. How pathetic was he to have
called Pete, looking for his attention, when Pete must have been training him. Pete showered him
with attention and then took it away, causing Vegas to run to him, in desperate need. Every kiss,
every touch, marred by the reality of the ways Pete was teaching Vegas to rely on him, to let loose
in his presence.

"Stop thinking too much, Khun-Vegas," Pete had said to him.

"Just let go."

"You can cum."

Vegas hadn't understood why Pete wanted to hold on to him, so tight. Why he'd caved to Vegas'
advances, despite knowing how Kinn felt about Vegas and his artists. He hadn't understood why
Pete had grown so attached, so fast, bordering on clingy, and then suddenly pulled away to the
extent that he was jumping into bathrooms to avoid Vegas. He hadn't understood before, but he did
now.

Looking at Pete, a well of anger grew within him. He stood, wishing he could get some answers.
After all, they were in the right place for it. He'd never imagined that he would want to hurt
someone as much as he wanted to hurt Pete. He put the phone and case back in the bag and
dropped it on the table, as he picked up a small, jagged-edged knife.

He should have known. The warning signs were there, from that very first day. Vegas knew never
to trust or bed men who didn't cower away. That he'd ignored the red flags, was all on him. He'd
made a note and looked the other way because Pete was beautiful and smart and everything Vegas
could have ever wanted.

Which should have been another sign. Because perfection would always be an illusion.

He squatted before Pete, lifting the knife to his chin. But before it connected, Vegas' hands froze,
quivering, unable to move any closer. He wanted to press the knife into Pete's chin, force his head
up, wound him and wake him in the process.

But he couldn't.

Screaming in rage, he turned and flung the knife so hard it stuck to the door. Then he screamed
again, and again, pulling open his shirt just so he wouldn't suffocate from how quickly the walls
around him seemed to be closing in.

When his voice hooked, scratching against his throat because there was no sound left to make,
Vegas choked and sobbed, falling on his hands. Pete deserved it. If Papa came back to hurt him,
Vegas would stand aside. He might not be able to do anything, but Papa would. Just for the shame
he'd caused, Pete deserved it. For the actual betrayal, Vegas didn't think there was punishment
enough in the world for how he felt.

He didn't know how long he'd been there, on his hands and knees, in a torn shirt, with a sore throat,
when he heard a bang at the door of the dungeon. He looked at Pete, but he was still out cold. As
Vegas knelt up, the door burst open and Kinn came in, followed by the main family guards.

"Where is he?"

Vegas had forgotten that he'd called Kinn.

Sitting back on his heels, he wiped his eyes, watching Kinn run to Pete as Porsche came to Vegas.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Vegas couldn't find the words, or the voice.

"Did you do this to him?" Kinn asked.

Vegas wanted to mention that Pete was a spy. That he wasn't to be trusted. That he deserved to be
hurt and mutilated beyond recognition. That if Vegas wasn't such a coward, Pete would be dead.

He wanted to say it, but he couldn't.

"Let's go," Kinn said as the guards finished uncuffing Pete and carried him out.

"Come with us," Porsche said.

Vegas stood, shaking his head and removing his hand from Porsche's grasp.
"Go," he said hoarsely.

As the room emptied, leaving Vegas alone, the tears returned.

He knew he ought to stop them, but the thought of exposing Pete to the main or minor family hurt
more than the betrayal ever would.
 The beauty of mature conversation
Chapter Notes

Is that two chapters in two days?

*dancing emoji*

"Come with us," Porsche said.

"Go," Vegas replied.

Kun wasn't a fool. He would know that Vegas had called Kinn and Vegas would suffer for it. If
Vegas had taken the risk, either way, then he was preparing himself for his father's wrath. Porsche
hated that for him. Hated that Vegas wasn't even looking at him when Porsche was talking to him.

Kneeling on the floor, looking like his life was over, Vegas hadn't moved till they left. Porsche
wanted to stay and ask why but the minor house was about to be flooded with the tension of Kun's
fury. Pete couldn't be present. Pete had to be far away before anything else happened and Kinn
wouldn't leave this premises if Porsche was not in the car.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

Their entourage of Kinn, Pete, eight bodyguards and Porsche slowed down as Kun accosted them,
three doors from the entrance. Kinn stepped around the men carrying Pete, to reach his uncle.

"Are you aware that Pete is my artist?"

"Are you aware," Kun asked back. "That your artist put his hands on me?"

"Uncle-"

"What message are you sending if you let him go?"

"Look at him. He's been punished enough."

"Not in my book," Kun said, walking up to Kinn.

Kun was a spiteful man, wicked to his sons, on a good day. But if there was one person he hated
more than Vegas and Macau, it was Kinn. The fact that Kinn had stormed in to release Pete who
was essentially Kun's prisoner, was a recipe for disaster.

"I will forgive this disrespect, Kinn. But you will leave him and go."

Porsche was standing way back, having left the dungeon last. But from behind, he could see Kinn's
back straighten as he stood before Kun, rising to his full height.

"Will you attack me, Uncle?"

"You came into my home and took something from me. I imagine your father won't take kindly to
that."
When Kinn took a step toward Kun, Porsche ran to them, noting Kun's shift of eyes. The moment
he saw Porsche, he frowned and looked back at Kinn. Porsche placed a gentle hand on Kinn’s back
as he looked at Kun.

"Pete will apologize the moment he has recovered, Uncle Kun," Porsche said. "I will make sure of
it."

Kun's face twitched, looking between Porsche and Kinn like he'd been itching for a fight. Kinn had
entered his domain with armed guards. If he fought back, he would be well within his rights. And
Kinn hadn't even come with enough people to actually cause the minor family harm. If anything,
Kun would succeed in thrashing Kinn and his guards, if he had the guts to follow through. And
then when he was done, he could send Kinn back to his father, bruised and ashamed but very alive.

Kinn hadn't come for a fight. He'd been hoping a show of force would back Kun down. But, from
the way Kun was poised, he was ready for that fight.

"Please," Porsche said, stepping between them.

Kun scowled, rolling his eyes and looking away as he stepped out of Kinn's path. Immediately,
Kinn rushed through, taking his men and Pete with him, while Porsche remained behind, to make
sure they all made it out without qualms.

As soon as the last man passed and Porsche was about to go, Kun blocked Porsche's path.

"Does your mother know this is what you're doing in your free time?"

"I was just-"

"You're not a kid anymore."

"Pete was in trouble."

"Be careful of your actions, Porsche," Kun said. "Next time, I won't back down. Whether or not
you're present."

Dropping his hand, he allowed Porsche to pass. Even as he made his way out the door at a light
jog, Porsche didn't breathe until the moment he was safely in the car, and they were driving out of
the minor family’s compound.

***

Pete wasn't safe. Not totally.

Kun was a man scorned with an ego the size of Asia. He was going to find a way to get at Pete.
Directly or indirectly. Kinn remained at Pete's side, letting no one but Porsche or Pete's doctors see
him. Which was okay. Porsche didn't mind spending the remainder of the weekend with Pete.
Friday night, Saturday, Sunday, he stayed by Pete. When Pete gained consciousness, Porsche was
right by him.

Pete was a sturdy mother fucker. He woke up from two days in a coma, looking around the place
like he was merely inspecting the room. As soon as he saw Porsche, he'd relaxed back into his
pillow. But that was it. He didn't freak out, didn't try to explain himself, didn't behave like someone
who'd just been in a dungeon, getting beaten while naked.

It was all good.

Till Kinn came back into the room, on Sunday night.

"I spoke to the director," he said to Pete. "He knows you're not coming in for the week. They'll be
working with understudies."

Pete nodded. He was still in bandages and when he tried to move around the room, he moved with
a limp. He needed the rest. A week was perfect.

"You too, Porsche," Kinn said, sitting down on the empty side of the bed, beside Pete.

"What do you mean?" Porsche asked.

"I told the director not to expect you."

"I'm fine, Kinn. I can go to work."

"I don't want you going in alone."

Porsche pursed his lips, looking at Pete, who was looking at him funny. He remembered his last
conversation with Pete at rehearsal. How Pete had tried to talk Porsche into standing up for
himself. Which was sweet and all, but Pete didn't understand everything, and having this
conversation in front of Pete was already triggering a response from Pete. Porsche could see where
this would lead, so he got up.

"Can I talk to you outside?" he said. "Please."

As he walked out of the room, Kinn followed.

"I'm not sick. I'm not injured-"

"You're not going."

Porsche looked at the floor, struggling to hold back. He knew what this was. Kinn wouldn't stop
testing him, pushing him, just so that Porsche could snap back and Kinn would be justified to claim
that Porsche didn't really want him. Which was a lie. Porsche wanted to be with him. He wanted
Kinn to be comfortable enough to let go of this phase. But he couldn't push him. Normally, Porsche
wouldn't mind. But this was his fucking job.

"I have a rally on Thursday."

"Skip it."

"Kinn!"

"I said," Kinn said, getting into Porsche's face, making him back up till he hit the wall. "Skip it."

Kinn wasn't backing down. He remained in place, eyes never leaving Porsche's, as if willing
Porsche to submit again. Usually, Porsche would.

"Earlier this year, you were glad that I'd be speaking at this rally."

"Are you resisting?"

"Omega kids will be there, Kinn."

"I said no."

"Why?"

Kinn smiled sardonically, removing a tiny, square card from his back pocket. He pressed it into
Porsche's chest as it fell and Porsche caught it. It was the kind of card that accompanied flowers.
When Porsche opened it, it read: Hope you're having a wonderful day. T.S.

Tod Setely.

"Where did you get this?"

"He's courting you."

"It's just a fucking card."

"He's sent one every single day since that night, Porsche. No matter where you are, the flowers
find you. At the hotel, here, in the mansion?”

“I never got them.”

“Because I got them for you,” Kinn snapped. “He seems to know where you are, all the time. I
can’t imagine that he won’t know you’ll be at that rally on Thursday.”

“I have to work.”

“You’re not the only celebrity going. I’m sure they’ll survive.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Let me make this clear to you, Porsche. Go to that rally, and we’re done.”

Stepping away, Kinn opened the door to Pete’s room.

“When is this going to stop?” Porsche asked. “When are you going to stop treating me like this?”

Kinn paused, frowning at the handle of the door like he was giving it some thought.

“I’ll stop when I stop hating myself for loving you.”

And that, right there, was the beauty of adult conversation. Because they could have gone on for
weeks, months even, without understanding what they wanted from each other. Porsche could have
wallowed in ignorance, assuming that things were what he thought when he misunderstood the
entire situation. He could have been mistaken and woken up one morning to find that he’d been so
wrong.

But, with the benefit of a simple question, Porsche was able to learn that, one: Kinn was in love
with him, and two: this dance between them would never end.

He should have never let it get this far. He should have listened when Vegas told him to stop. He
shouldn’t have put Kinn in this position. He could tell himself that he’d never meant for any of this
to happen, but he would always know that he’d thought about it. He’d hidden his presentation for a
reason. He’d laid there and enjoyed the fruits of Kinn’s affection, regardless of what harm would
come to Kinn if things broke loose.

And maybe Kinn was trying to look past it, in his own way. Porsche could tell. Intimacy between
them wasn’t as easy as it used to be. Kinn didn’t let loose with Porsche, in or out of the bedroom.
Try as they might, a cloud of tension followed them wherever they went. Because Porsche had
fucked up. Because Kinn was fucked. Because Porsche had, on multiple occasions, witnessed Kinn
crying in his sleep. Because Porsche had to pretend that he didn’t wake up to other unpleasant
surprises that had never existed before Kinn found out Porsche was an alpha.

He’d underestimated the effect it would have on Kinn and that was all on Porsche. No one else. He
knew that.

On Monday, Porsche watched TV with Pete the whole day. On Tuesday, they read lines, practicing
for the play, regardless of the absence of a director. On Wednesday, he went to sleep in Kinn’s
bed, pulling the covers over his head and knowing that even though Kinn liked to begin the night
on the far end of the bed, that Porsche would wake up with Kinn’s hands tightly wrapped around
his body.

One of the benefits of a mature conversation was knowing that this beautiful man could love him,
while also knowing that what they had was definitely not for Porsche. Not the way it was. Not with
the amount of tension that existed. Porsche was going to burn out, longing for the Kinn that didn’t
know Porsche was an alpha. And Kinn was going to break, trying to make Porsche an omega.

On Thursday, when he woke up, Porsche showered and ate a few slices of bread.

Before he got dressed and headed to the omega rally.

 The agreement
Chapter Notes

what's that??? a third chapter in three days???

Kinn’s days were usually busy, now that he was home. Even though he made time to check in on
Pete once a day, the rest of it was spent behind closed doors, in meetings. Sometimes, with a
brother or two by his side, sometimes alone.

Not that he had to, but Kinn wanted to keep busy. A constant struggle between wanting to spend
every waking moment in Porsche’s presence and wanting to scream and nag at every single thing
he did was not how he wanted to spend his days. His nights were sad enough without his control.
His days were something he could shape so he’d rather not be steeped in negativity, 24/7.

At least, he got to see Porsche at night. Every night. That hadn’t changed since they came home.
He didn’t want that to change. It wasn’t much, but at least, he felt a wee bit calmer not having to
wake up alone.

Try as he might, Kinn needed Porsche more than he wanted to admit. Their intimacy was broken
but it still existed and Kinn was hanging on to it because his sanity depended on it. Like a shield
against his horrid dreams, he wielded Porsche, knowing that if he needed more, all he had to do
was ask. Sometimes, he didn’t even have to ask.

When he thought about it, Porsche had been there. Even when things weren’t sexual between them.
He’d arrived with his family when they were kids and had just… always been there, thereafter,
existing in Kinn’s orbit like a permanent fixture that had always been and would always be. Kinn
hadn’t even thought to keep Porsche out of the minor mansion, if shit went down. He’d just taken it
for granted that Porsche was by his side.

He hadn't thought about it, till Porsche was getting between him and Kun, quelling the situation
before it got worse. Freezing Kun’s resolve because Kun wouldn’t attack Kinn if Porsche was
there. After all, Kun was a better father to Porsche than he was to his own sons.

Kinn hadn't thought of that. He didn't want to think about it because then he’d have to admit that
he’d brought Porsche to a volatile situation, with no regard for his safety and frankly, Kinn didn’t
want to address that, at all.

“Khun-Kinn,” Big said, sticking his head into Kinn’s office. “Khun-Korn wants to see you.”

There were two men in his father’s office when Kinn walked in. One was Councilman Apinya. The
other was his tall, pretty son, Tawan.

“Ah, Kinn,” Papa said, waving him closer. “I believe you’ve met the councilman.”

“Good morning, Sir,” Kinn said, offering him a handshake.

“This is Tawan,” Papa said. “Tawan, this is my son, Kinn.”

Like he needed any introduction. Kinn had been obsessed with him and stalked him on social
media when news of their engagement first broke.

“Would you like to take him for a drink?” Papa asked. “Apinya and I have business to discuss.”

Kinn nodded. “Sure.” Bowing slightly, he walked out of the room as Tawan followed him.

“Papa didn’t tell me you were in Thailand,” he said.

“I got back a while ago. I’ve just been busy.”

Kinn wanted to ask what an omega was busy with. But then he had to remind himself that some
families didn’t care about that. Kinn’s family was one of those. His mother was an omega. His
brother was an omega. And yet, they were still active. But that was only because they were active
in the family business. Tawan had to be, too. Those were his only options ever since he declared
his status as an omega. He’d had to quit his job for it. All that remained were the few people who
were willing to take the risk and really, only family ever would.

Taking a secluded booth at the bar, Kinn called for drinks as Tawan unsheathed a golden cigarette
case, placed a cigarette in his mouth and lit it with the lighter at the bottom of the case. As he took
a puff, his eyes slid to Kinn. Realizing that Kinn was watching him, he offered the case to Kinn.

“Thanks, but I’m trying to quit.”

Tawan smiled. “I quit once a year.”

Honestly, that was also true for Kinn so he took the case and helped himself to one.

“So,” Tawan said, retrieving his case. “How are we doing this? Favorite color? Fave food? Fave
travel destination?”

“What?”

“We’re supposed to be getting to know each other.”

“Right,” Kinn said, exhaling. “But favorite color?” he asked, disbelievingly.

“Gray.”

Kinn laughed. “Which adult still cares about that?”

“I do,” Tawan said, defensively. “It’s a good color.”

“It’s not even a color.”

“Well, now you know something about me, at least. What can you tell me about you?”

“I don’t have a favorite food and as for travel destinations, I’d rather just stay at home.”

Tawan scoffed. “You’re going to be boring, aren’t you?”

“I am not boring.”

Kinn couldn’t believe he said it out rightly. The only people bold enough to say that were his
family.

“We’re making progress.”

“You called me boring.”

“You called me childish.”

Kinn sighed. “That’s fair. Let’s start over then.”

“Fine by me,” Tawan agreed, tapping ash into the tray at the center of the table. “I’m curious about
the agreement. The contract your father sent over.”

Kinn had no idea their families were exchanging contracts already. But then again, he’d been away
at camp. He’d left it all up to Papa, but he’d assumed that he’d be kept in the loop about his own
marriage.

“What are you curious about?”

Their drinks arrived.

“The mating part.”

He hadn’t been aware there’d be an actual mating. The marriage was for, all intents and purposes,
to merge families. Not for love.

“Are you worried about children?” Kinn asked.

“Since we’re both men, I didn’t mind the mention of a surrogate. I just don’t see why mating has to
be involved.”

Kinn didn't see why either, but if that was what Papa wanted, then Kinn would go along with it.

“It’s standard,” Kinn said, enjoying a sip of his drink.

When he looked up, Tawan’s jovial smile was gone. In its place was a scowl.

“If it’s in the contract-”

“This is a marriage of convenience, Khun-Kinn,” Tawan said. “There’s no need for a mating.”

“But the children-”

“I can love your children without your bite, same as you can love mine.”

Kinn hadn’t been aware that Tawan was going to have children in the marriage, as well. But he was
okay with it. If that was what Tawan’s family had agreed to, then it would be fine.

“I think it would be better if you sorted this out with your father. Not me.”

Tawan shook his head as if confused.

“So, you’re not seeing anyone?”

Immediately, memories of Porsche flood Kinn’s mind. Memories of his laughter, of him arguing
when he got passionate, of him rushing through his food while he talked and spat everywhere.

“Are you?” Kinn asked back.

Tawan looked away, frowning at the sofa.

“No one cares about that. Fuck if I’m in love. I only exist for my future alpha now.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“You don’t?” Tawan asked, eyes widening. “You’re never going to be with another person for the
rest of your life and you’re saying you’re okay with the mating?”

“Wait, what?” Kinn asked. “I don’t understand.”

“You know how the bite works between alphas and omegas. If I bite you-”

“Who said anything about you biting me?” Kinn asked.

There was a moment, a pause as Tawan blinked at Kinn, as if trying to process what Kinn had just
said.

“Oh,” Tawan said, leaning back and smiling. “Oh my god.”

“A mating requires an alpha’s bite.”

“Maybe twenty years ago, but today, an omega can request a matching bite.”

“What?”

“You’re joking if you think I’m going to get bitten and not bite back.”

“What?” Kinn asked again, still not sure he was hearing correctly.

Why the fuck did no one tell Kinn these things? Had his father gone and agreed to a mutual mating
without asking Kinn? Maybe Kinn would have been okay with this a few weeks ago. Maybe he
wouldn’t have minded when his entire goal in life was to be with an omega. That would have been
fine.

But a lot had changed since then. Kinn didn’t want an omega anymore. He wanted Porsche. His
life without Porsche in it would be devastating and the thought of never… no. Kinn was not doing
this. He couldn’t. Maybe he could have entertained the idea if he would be able to keep Porsche in
his life. But this was ridiculous. And full of shit. And Kinn didn’t think he’d ever be able to exist
without Porsche.

Tawan laughed, depositing his cigarette bud and reaching for his case again.

“I was afraid I was going to have to convince you that the mating was bullshit.” He lit another one.
“But it looks like you and I are going to get along just fine.”

Were they, though?

If Papa had signed off on a mating, if he’d gone as far as sending the contract to Tawan’s family,
then that had to mean that he wanted it to happen. And if he wanted it to happen, what were Kinn’s
options? Because none of them looked particularly appealing.

He’d have to cave and be the obedient son. Or, he’d have to lie and pretend the mating had
happened. And as horrible as either of those choices were, Kinn was afraid to acknowledge the
fact, there was still a third option.

That if he didn’t want to pretend, or go along with it, then he’d have to refuse a request from his
father.
Which was something Kinn never ever wanted to do.
 The cost of betrayal
Chapter Notes

4th on the 4th day? At this point, am I bragging? I think I am.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Pete didn’t know when he’d lost consciousness until he woke up in a hospital bed with Porsche
asleep by his side. He’d held out as long as he could, hanging from a ceiling as Kun whipped him
with varied objects. Pete could take it. Pain wasn’t new. He just had to take comfort in the fact that
as long as Kun remained in the dungeon, focused on him, he wasn’t with Macau.

But when he woke up with Porsche and Kinn, Pete knew what Vegas had done. He was too afraid
to ask, because he could only imagine what Vegas must have had to go through to free Pete from
his father’s clutches. Vegas, who couldn’t even raise his voice in his father’s presence, had
somehow gotten the courage to set Pete free.

Curious as he was about the details, Pete couldn’t ask. He didn’t want to imagine that Vegas had
stepped on his father’s toes, or that Macau was still back there, under the same roof as that
monster.

Vegas didn’t visit.

He probably couldn’t, considering the situation. Pete called him everyday. He texted every chance
he got and left a bunch of unanswered messages. He wished Vegas used social media so Pete could
have something to look at. He even resorted to listening to old recordings of Vegas from his phone
when he was alone, because he didn’t have his headphones with him.

As Kinn entered the room, Pete turned to the window as he shut off the recording.

“Fucking hell,” Kinn said, falling into the sofa with a big sigh as he tossed a bag of snacks at Pete.
“Where’s Porsche?”

“He wasn’t with you?” Pete investigated the contents of the bag.

“No,” Kinn said, rubbing his forehead in worry. “I went to see my fiancé.”

“That’s still happening?” Pete asked, abandoning the bag of snacks in favor of staring at his boss.

Kinn covered his entire face with his hands, groaning into it like he really wanted to scream
instead.

“What about Porsche?”

“What about him?” Kinn asked back, voice muffled by his hands.

“You do remember him, right?”

“Porsche doesn’t care about that,” Kinn said. “We literally started fucking because he found out I
had a fiancé.”
Pete didn’t understand what mental gymnastics Kinn had engaged in to arrive at that conclusion,
but nobody wanted to be a side piece. Least of all Porsche who had a reputation to protect. If word
got out that he was sleeping with a married man, that would tank his brand in more ways than one.
Not to mention the whole omega thing.

“He told you he doesn’t care that you’re about to marry another omega?”

“Another omega?”

“Isn’t that what you like?”

“Porsche is not an omega.”

Pete wanted to refute that. He clearly remembered Porsche showing symptoms of a heat at the
radio station. Kinn didn’t know that. Kinn didn’t realize that denying it in a mistaken bid to protect
Porsche’s secret was incredibly futile as Pete already had evidence.

But evidence of what, exactly? On closer examination of Kinn’s answer, Pete realized that Kinn
had said, “...not an omega.” He hadn’t said, “...is a beta.” Because Porsche had been pretending to
be a beta, too. If Kinn wanted to protect Porsche, the default defense would be to mention what he
was. Not what he wasn’t. Knowing that Porsche had been exhibiting clear signs of a heat… or at
the very least, a cycle, Pete realized what the issue was.

Because, why else would a traditionalist like Kinn who had a history of dating omegas, deny that
his partner was an omega when he knew that Pete was also an omega? If Kinn wanted to protect
Porsche’s secret, it would be to the public. Not Pete. Not when he knew that Pete had the same
secret.

Except, it wasn’t the same secret.

“Where is Porsche?” Kinn asked, sitting up. “What's today?”

“Thursday.”

“No fucking way,” Kinn cussed, frowning as he got up and stormed out of the room.

Pete was really playing fast and loose with his life, hanging around with a bunch of alphas on every
side. His boss was an alpha. His boyfriend was an alpha. His co-star who he’d be kissing and
grinding on for the next four months was also an alpha. One little slip, one unplanned cycle, and
Pete would have to kiss his independence goodbye.

Remembering how Porsche had quivered, holding onto Pete, at that radio station, leaning into him,
practically trying to inhale Pete, had seemed innocent when Pete thought Porsche was an omega.
Now, looking back at it and realizing that he’d willingly locked himself and Porsche in a bathroom,
while Porsche was probably minutes away from a rut, felt like a horror movie.

Pete covered his neck, as he moved from the window to his bed, replaying every moment he’d ever
shared with Porsche. The intimacy lessons in the privacy of their room. The photoshoot. God! How
many times had they been that close without Pete realizing that Porsche may have missed or
forgotten to take his suppressants?

He didn’t think Porsche was malicious. He definitely wouldn’t want to mate an omega, or do it
without consent. But anything could happen. They were roommates for fucksake. They’d been cast
to play lovers and they were playing with fucking fire.
If both of them had declared their status, they wouldn’t be roommates. Granted, Pete might not
even have the job, but even if he did, no production would put alphas in the same living space as
omegas. It was irresponsible and dangerous. Even with the compulsory daily doses of
suppressants. Things happened. People forgot. People got lazy. Hormones burned through doses
ahead of time.

Pete spent the morning in a daze. He was so lost in thought about the realization that his roommate
was an alpha, that Pete forgot to miss Vegas for a couple of hours.

***

When he woke up that afternoon, Vegas was sitting on his bed. Unable to help himself, to be sure
that Vegas was real and not a figment of his imagination, Pete reached out and held him by the
elbow. As he did, the sleeve of his shirt shifted, revealing Vegas’ hand where it was bandaged up
the wrist and two fingers were splintered together.

“Oh my god,” Pete said, sitting up, wondering if it was from a fight, or if it was his father’s doing.
“What happened?”

Vegas cocked the gun in his other hand and moved it over to the bandaged hand, chilling Pete right
down to the bone. When he looked at Vegas’ face, Vegas didn’t look back at him. Instead, he
remained sitting, facing the window, with shoulders immensely tense. Pete had never seen Vegas
this way.

“Two-hundred-and-fifty-seven million,” he said. “Dollars, not baht. One dead bodyguard. Twelve
men, injured. Two bids.”

Pete gulped, slowly reaching for his phone, under the blanket, with his other hand.

“That’s a list of everything you’ve cost me. And I’ve only known you for weeks.”

“Cost you?”

“Don’t do that,” he said, shaking his head.

Pete stopped moving his hand.

He had no idea what Vegas meant. Don’t do what? Don’t lie to me? Don’t move your hand? He
couldn’t tell. Because if Vegas had been avoiding Pete, then maybe there was a reason. Pete was
smart enough to assume the worst. If Vegas knew, then denying wouldn’t help. If he didn’t, then it
was best if Pete didn’t give anything away and didn’t move a muscle.

Survival was key, here.

“You see?” Vegas cleared his throat. “I wanted to cut you in the dungeon,” he looked at Pete. “But
I couldn’t. For some fucking reason, I couldn’t.”

“Vegas-”

“But then I remembered,” he scoffed. “That my brother could have been on one of those raids that
went south.” He turned on the bed, fully. “When shit fucked over the first time, I thought it was a
fluke. Then it happened again before we realized there was a leak. And I keep thinking: what if
Macau,” he said as his eyes filled with tears. “Had gone on one of those raids? Huh, Pete?”

Pete had never looked in Vegas’ eyes and seen as much hate as he was currently seeing. He’d
barely even registered proper anger. His family had scheduled a clean-up for that weekend that
Pete had gotten beaten up. Pete had removed the bug in Vegas’ home. But what if Vegas had found
the one in his hotel room?

What if he’d seen it and known that the only person he let in there was Pete?

“I can explain.”

“I hope you can,” he said.

“I bugged your rooms,” Pete confessed.

“Rooms?”

“At home and at the hotel.”

“Why?” Vegas asked. “For money?”

Pete opened his mouth to say yes. It was expected enough that even Vegas expected. He’d done it
for money. Simple. Maybe he would have entertained the thought of telling Vegas the actual truth,
under different circumstances. But this was a hurt, dangerous man who could do a lot of damage
with that information.

“So it wasn’t for money,” Vegas said.

“It was for money.”

“Please don’t lie to me,” he said, pressing the muzzle of the gun into Pete’s stomach.

He froze in place, feeling every bit of the gun, knowing that he was a breath away from being shot
if he moved too abruptly or if he angered Vegas further.

“I was…” he began. “I was… he said if I didn't do it, he would expose… he would tell everyone…
that…” He couldn’t say it.

“That you are an omega?” Vegas asked.

Pete’s heart jumped, trying to push up through his throat.

“How did you-”

“I’ve known for a while.” Vegas wiped the tears on his face. “Besides, you’re a convicted criminal
who everyone has seen naked. The only thing anyone can hold against you is your status.”

When the gun moved away from his stomach as Vegas stood up, Pete gasped, like he’d been
holding his breath. Feeling a tightness in his chest, Pete rolled off the bed in the other direction,
hoping to put some space between them.

“Why didn’t you tell Kinn?”

“What?” Pete asked.

“If they were blackmailing you for information, why the fuck didn’t you tell Kinn, Pete?”

At the time, Pete had thought he could handle it. After all, Vegas was just an unknown face that
Pete could fuck and leave. He didn’t know it would come to this. He didn’t know he’d get to know
 Vegas and realize that he’d found a kindred spirit. At the time, betraying Vegas hadn’t been as
important as keeping his secret.

“Wow,” Vegas said, smiling through the tears. “I mean, I get it. I meant nothing to you.”

“No,” Pete said. “I mean, I thought-”

“Would you have taken the deal if Kinn was the target?”

Pete couldn’t answer that, but in keeping quiet, Vegas received his answer.

“Well,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “This has been illuminating.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I want a copy of everything you’ve sent to them.”

“I’ll send it.”

“And access to your account on the app.”

Pete nodded, picking up his phone to send it immediately. If Vegas was forgiving him, if this was a
way to prove that he didn’t particularly want to send anything else to Wan, then Pete was willing to
surrender everything.

Instead of waiting, Vegas tucked his gun into the harness at his back as he headed for the door,
coming to pass by Pete.

“Vegas,” Pete said, reaching for him as Vegas pulled away.

“I can understand why you did what you did, so the urge to kill you is gone, Pete,” he said. “But
that doesn't mean I want you touching me.”

As Vegas left, Pete knelt, unable to hold himself up as he broke down. He wasn't sure why. Maybe
it was relief from the fact that he wasn’t dead and Vegas wasn’t going to kill him. Or maybe it was
the fact that Vegas knew. He knew everything.

Even though Pete had tried to hide it, Vegas finally knew that Pete was dishonest and disloyal and
not worthy of Vegas’ affection.

Chapter End Notes

So... this is it for the week :)

It has been fun uploading these chapters, but I've run out.
 The unwanted ally

"Where are we?" Vegas asked Nop, taking the tablet from the other man as they walked into the
minor mansion together.

"We pulled back all the men from surrounding towns. Luckily, we haven't had any breaches
outside of our central region, so we're focusing close to home. If we move some people around and
change the info-train among group leaders, we can contain this leak before Khun-Kun gets word of
it."

"Any movement from Gambit?"

"None, Boss. Their employees haven't changed. They haven't pulled back any bids. They haven't
changed their schedules. If they're the ones behind the leak, either they're still getting intel, or..."
Nop hesitated.

"Or what, Nop?"

"Or they never got it from us, in the first place."

"What?" Vegas asked, slowing down as Nop slowed down beside him.

"Think about it, Boss. If you were basing your decisions on the decisions of another person, you'd
change when they change. They'd have known about the disruption of our activities and they'd be
doing something to keep their hold. But they're doing nothing."

Which made sense. Vegas had spies in places that he could afford to have spies. In other places, he
just plucked employees from the street for a quick convo in his dungeon and got the information he
needed. Based on his dependence on a particular gang or company or group, Vegas made his
decision to suit the new information. It was normal to do so.

Sometimes, he didn't have to, though. Sometimes, the intel was so insignificant that he let it go.
Sometimes, people made changes that Vegas knew wouldn't affect his plans in the slightest. When
that happened, he didn't change because he knew their movement was futile.

But for a company as small as Gambit that had come up almost completely based on intel gotten
from Vegas' they ought to jibbing and jiving in a bid to maintain control of Vegas' destabilization of
his family's business structure. If they were getting intel from Vegas, then they ought to be moving
too. Unless...

"Someone's using them as a patsy," Vegas said as Nop nodded in agreement. "Check other gangs.
See who's moved differently in the last five days."

"Which ones, Boss?"

"All of them."

Vegas entered his room to find Macau sitting on the sofa. Gently closing the door, he asked, "Are
you alright?"

"Did you kill him?" Macau asked.

Vegas didn't need any clarification.

"I didn't."

Macau got up and came to Vegas with an outstretched hand. Sighing, Vegas pulled out his gun and
handed it over as Macau removed the clip. Satisfied, Macau put it back and handed the gun to
Vegas.

"I want to see him."

"Not this again.” Vegas dropped the gun, flexing his bandaged, right hand. When Papa had
returned after Kinn had taken Pete, he’d been so mad that he’d stabbed Vegas’ palm to the wall. It
was a miracle he could move the hand at all. Considering how many times Papa had traumatized it.
When he got angry, he slapped Vegas in the face, but that never left any mark or permanent
damage. No, he reserved the real pain for Vegas’ right hand. Focusing on it like he was hoping,
one day, it wouldn’t recover. It had hurt so much over the years that Vegas had learned to use his
left hand. To write. To shoot. To exist.

"Phi!"

"You can’t see him."

"You never tell me why."

"It's complicated."

“Make it simple.”

Vegas walked around him, heading for his desk.

“I’m not discussing this again.”

“Phi-”

“MACAU!”

Macau jerked back, eyes wide with shock and terror as he stared at Vegas. Clenching his jaw,
Vegas looked away. He didn’t want to see that look on his brother’s face. Not when it was pointed
at him. The last thing he wanted was to treat his brother like their father treated them. Which was
why he never raised his voice at Macau.

“Macau…” he started to say as Macau turned around and rushed out of the room, leaving the door
to swing shut behind him.

Sighing, Vegas fell back into his chair as he closed his eyes, allowing his weight to swivel the
chair around. He had a billion things to think about. Pending deals. Local quarrels. His father. At
that moment, ironically, the only thing that was headed in a positive direction was the leak. The
fact that he was about to get access to all the information that had gone out was a plus. And Nop
would, no doubt, find something for Vegas to work with. If there was anything to offer Vegas
comfort, that was it. That was all he had.

He really wasn't in the mood to go running after Macau.

His phone buzzed.

A message from Pete containing his login and password for the app.

And that was it. No extra information. No talk of the recordings he’d leaked. Vegas had been very
clear. He wanted to know what their enemies knew. He wanted to know what he could use and
what he would abandon. If Pete was withholding that information, Vegas was going to have to pay
him another visit…

Unless that was what Pete wanted. A way back into Vegas’ good graces.

Not in a million years.

He’d only just seen Pete over an hour ago. If he was collating files to send, then maybe that was
why it was taking so long. Vegas could give him a grace period. If the night came and went and
Vegas didn’t have what he was looking for, he was going to do something about it. This time, he
wouldn’t be going himself. His men would do it.

They’d have the balls to follow through with what Vegas had shied out of. Because people didn’t
respond to empty threats. They responded to action. Maybe Pete was taking Vegas for granted.
Maybe he thought that, because Vegas had taken a liking to him, he could drag this out, making
Vegas come to him when he pleased.

His phone buzzed again. Another message from Pete.

-Let me in-

“Let you into where?” Vegas asked the phone like Pete could hear him.

Then he jumped to his feet, refusing to believe that what he understood was what he was reading.
He clicked on his PC screen, pulled up the security footage and to his eternal horror, Pete was right
there. Standing at the front gate of the minor mansion, staring up at the cameras.

As if the patriarch of the minor family wasn’t looking to kill him.

“Oh my god,” Vegas said, heart sinking down to his stomach. “What the fuck?” Papa was going to
murder Pete. What the fuck was he doing out there? The intercom on the wall rang and Vegas
grabbed it.

“Boss?” the man at the gate said. “Pete is-”

“Let him in, right now.”

“Khun-Kun said-”

“Bring him through the green tunnels. You are to hand him over to no one but me. Do you
understand?”

“Yes, Boss.”

Dropping the phone, Vegas' hands shook as he stood in the quiet room. It wasn’t hard to recognize
what was happening, as he leaned on the wall, forcing himself to calm down. He had to pull
himself together before Pete arrived. He thought he had it under control, but the fear that had
gripped him, looking at Pete just standing out there, as if unaware of the danger he was in.

Except, he wasn't unaware. Pete was tangled with a rival mafia gang. Pete had punched Papa. Pete
had been tortured by Papa. Pete had heard Vegas threaten to shoot a man and had shrugged it off
like it was nothing.

Pete wasn’t a naïve bystander.

He had to have known what he was doing, showing up to the minor mansion in broad daylight. And
Vegas couldn’t help hating him for it. From the beginning, he’d known what to say, what to do, to
get and keep Vegas’ attention. He’d probably studied Vegas for years, just waiting for the moment
to strike. He knew Vegas enough to know that Vegas would jump into action when he was in
danger.

Vegas couldn’t believe how easily he’d fallen for it. Even with his eyes wide open. Even with the
knowledge of what Pete was, Vegas had leapt into action without thinking. Because he was too
stupid to have learned by now.

There was a sharp set of knocks at his door. Vegas turned from it, closing his eyes and taking soft,
quiet breaths.

“Wait for him outside, Kitso,” Vegas said.

“Yes, Boss.”

Pete walked in. It was incredibly pathetic that Vegas knew he was the one, not because he’d seen
him on camera. But because he’d gotten to the point that he now knew what Pete’s footsteps
sounded like… what he smelled like.

Sealing his room door from the button on his table, Vegas remained with his back to Pete.

“I should just hand you over to my father,” Vegas said.

Without answering, Pete walked closer and with each step, Vegas knew he should turn around and
ask him to stop. Tell Pete to remain by the door. Away from him. Keep him on the other side of the
room so that Vegas could successfully contain himself because all the composure he’d had at the
hospital was gone now.

But he didn’t stop Pete. Instead, he stood there, like a spineless statue, as Pete got closer and closer.

Pete stopped beside Vegas, placing a hard drive on the desk, by Vegas’ hand.

“Sixty hours of recordings,” Pete said. “I edited a lot of it to exclude my presence, but this is the
finished product.”

Vegas looked down at the drive.

“You couldn’t have compressed it and sent it?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

There it was , Vegas thought smugly. The inevitable scramble to get back in Vegas’ good graces.

“I don’t have anything to say to you, Pete.”

“We have an opportunity here, Vegas.”

When he looked up at Pete, all he saw was a man staring back at him. No remorse, no guilt.
Nothing. Just Pete, in a T-shirt and a pair of trousers, with his sunshades in his hair. He’d never
seen Pete appear before him this plainly. No gloss on his lips. No liner in his eyes. He wasn’t even
wearing cologne. Just Pete.

Vegas frowned at Pete.

“What are you talking about?”

“You have an enemy. I have an open line of communication. You can feed me whatever
information you want to send to them.”

“How about you tell me who the enemy is and I deal with them personally?”

“I don’t know who they are.”

Vegas laughed, walking away just so he could put some distance between them.

“Vegas isn’t spelled F-O-O-L.”

“I swear.” He unlocked his phone and placed it on the desk. “Go through my messages. Dig
through my life. I never met him until two weeks before camp.”

Vegas looked at the phone’s screen where a line of unlabeled numbers spanned a list in an archive.
Messages that Pete had to have saved from various numbers because whoever was calling him
never used the same number twice.

“What is this?” Vegas asked, just so he could get it out of the way. “Some misguided attempt to
get back with me? Because that’s never going to happen.”

“I’m not so naïve as to expect that, Vegas,” Pete said, looking him right in the eye. “The fact that
I’m alive is lucky enough.”

“I should have shot you.”

“But you didn’t.”

Unable to hold eye contact, Vegas looked away.

“I know you’re not a fool.”

“Now you’re just being condescending.”

“I am not asking for mercy,” Pete said, speaking over him. “I know you won’t forgive me. That’s
done. We’re over. I accept it.”

He didn’t know why his stomach churned when Pete said that, but Vegas was unable to stop
himself from pressing his belly to ease the feeling of discomfort.

“But there’s a man out there with video footage of me in heat and if I don’t send him recordings of
you and your business deals, that video will be published.”

This could all have been avoided if Pete wasn’t such a small-minded asshole. If he’d just come to
Vegas in the first place, if he’d just opened up about this, they could have worked together. But he
hadn’t. Because Vegas meant nothing to him. Even now, mere hours after Vegas had broken things
off, he’d walked it off like it was nothing.

Because it was nothing. To Pete, Vegas was nothing.

“I’ll send you the recordings when they’re done,” he said, unlocking the room from his table.
“Now get the fuck out of my house.”

Pete picked his phone from the desk, bowed slightly and said, “Thank you.”
As he walked out, he didn’t bother to look back. Didn’t offer Vegas any reason to think there was a
motivation beyond Pete’s own self-preservation. As honest as Pete was, Vegas found himself
wishing that Pete had lied a little. Asked for forgiveness. Said he was doing this for Vegas. In some
way. But no, he’d gotten what he wanted from Vegas and was out the door again.

Because, of course, Vegas had the best luck. After years of being smart enough not to indulge in
love, he’d gone ahead to fall for the most cold-hearted mother-fucker in the business.
 The offer of... more?
Chapter Notes

Taking a break from all the angst

Porsche didn’t know what he’d expected, when he left Kinn’s apartment that morning. A call? A
text? An ambush at the rally? Recent interactions with Kinn had proven that he was very capable of
cutting Porsche off. They weren’t kids anymore. Kinn didn’t believe Porsche hung the moon.

He checked his phone again. Nothing.

Sitting in the crowd with other speakers and celebrities, Porsche followed the rally, listening to
various speeches, watching the attending schools send up their representatives for mini-debates,
and some short, song performances. He’d been at these rallies a number of times to know that they
mattered more to the children and the schools than the general public. It would hardly get any
press, besides press that was specifically interested in furthering omega rights.

Still, Porsche had come with security. Vegas wouldn’t have it any other way. Rallies were out in
the open, with scanty protection. Porsche had gotten caught in a stampede, once. No injuries. He’d
found safety relatively quickly, but Vegas didn’t want that happening again. For the day, Porsche
got to have his very own squad of minor family guards posted around.

Searching the crowd, as he’d been doing all day, Porsche didn’t see Kinn. If for nothing, he’d at
least expected that Kinn would show up to try to get him to submit again. Porsche had a full
argument, locked and loaded. But that meant absolutely nothing if Kinn was never there to hear it.

Putting on his mini fan, Porsche crossed his legs and tried to concentrate on the speaker on the
podium.

“Is this seat taken?”

“No, it’s not,” Porsche said, looking at the man standing beside him. Quickly, he sat up.

“Thank you,” Tod said, sitting beside Porsche as he leaned back and crossed his legs, too.

They were in public, Porsche reminded himself. Tod wasn’t going to make a scene. Whatever bit
of focus Porsche had been sparing the event vanished, zeroing in on the man by his side. Because,
all of a sudden, Porsche was praying to every deity in existence that Kinn wouldn’t choose this
moment to show up.

“You threw my card away,” Tod said, placing his hand on the back of Porsche’s seat. “It’s fine. I
have more.”

He held out another card. Porsche stared down at it, not bothering to take it.

“I didn’t know you attended omega rallies.”

“I don’t.”
“Then what are you doing here?”

“I came for you, of course,” he said, shamelessly.

Porsche kept his face straight at the podium because pictures were being taken. With how Tod was
sitting, if Porsche turned to him, there would be no words suitable to explain that this conversation
was anything but intimate.

There was a murmur in the crowd as several people in front, the few press that had managed to
show up, suddenly started turning around, moving into the crowd to take pictures. Porsche
wondered what they were looking at. When he turned, he saw two sharply dressed men, walking
into the arena, followed by bodyguards. Ushers rushed to make room, with new chairs being
placed at the front for the men who walked up and sat.

Porsche couldn’t believe his eyes.

Frank Niran, CEO of Eventis Limited, and Songkarn Tanawat, CEO of Bloomtech, were currently
sitting in the front row of an omega rally. Two, prominent business tycoons with an aversion to
public appearances… had appeared at an omega rally, ensuring that the rally would go from being
of mere importance to omega activist groups, to nation-wide interest. The kind of exposure that
none of the celebrities in the audience could have afforded.

Porsche looked at Tod.

“What?” Tod asked, feigning innocence.

“Did you tell them to be here?”

“I didn’t force them, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“So why did they come?”

Tod shrugged.

“I merely informed my alphas of the event and said that if any of them wanted to attend, they
could.”

“Sounds like a command if it’s coming from you.”

Tod smiled. “I have more than a handful of alpha mates, Porsche. If it was a command, they’d all
be here.”

Which was interesting. Sparing the two alphas in the front, a glance, Porsche made a specific note
of them. If they’d chosen to be here, then there was a possibility that, in the future, Porsche could
reach out. If he had their contacts, he could give it to the organizer of the event. It might not mean
much and they might not show prolonged interest, but it could be something.

The only problem was that Porsche didn’t have their contact. Tod did.

“What do you want?” Porsche asked.

“For you to take my card,” Tod replied, offering the card again.

This time, Porsche took it.

“What is it for?” He looked at Tod, hoping that if he moved closer, the people behind them
wouldn’t hear the conversation. “A new mate? I don’t qualify. I’m not a businessman.”

“I don’t want a mate.”

“What is it, then? Sex?”

“I don’t do sex.”

“You have almost twenty alphas at your beck and call. And you want me to believe-”

“I only have sex during my cycles.”

“That’s a lie,” Porsche said, searching Tod’s eyes for any sign of untruths but he found none.
“What?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Tod asked, frowning at Porsche, looking defensive, for the first time
since they’d met.

“An asexual omega?”

“If you want to throw labels around.” Tod pulled his hand from behind Porsche’s chair to cross
them over his chest.

He’d heard about people who didn’t feel the need for sex, like most people did. But for an omega?
That must have been one hell of a transition, going from being a beta, to an omega whose body
craved sexual gratification. Porsche could not even begin to imagine the confusion (or agony, if
there was any). No wonder Tod was on suppressants.

I have a cycle that’s about six weeks, too late and I’m losing my mind, Tod had said that night on
the rooftop. Porsche could just imagine Tod, delaying his heat as long as possible because the
thought of sexual intimacy was still, after all these years, a source of discomfort. Waiting so long to
go off suppressants that it was beginning to affect him mentally, regardless of the fact that he had a
bunch of alphas just waiting in line for him.

“Sorry,” Porsche said.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Tod said. “It’s not an illness.”

“I never said it was.”

“Then stop looking at me like that.”

Porsche blinked, trying to straighten his face as he looked at the speaker on the podium.

“Fine,” he said. “If you don’t want me-”

“I never said I don’t want you.”

As Tod spoke, his hand returned, behind Porsche’s seat as he moved to the side, his leg leaning
against Porsche’s. For a second or two, the familiar gesture of his easy movement, rocking his
knees against Porsche, brought back memories. Porsche would have given anything to share this
moment with Kinn, to be sitting at the rally, listening to speeches and enjoying performances. But
he couldn’t have that.

And if he couldn’t have it with Kinn, Porsche was not in the mood to have with anyone else.
“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling Tod’s hand from the back of his chair as he dropped it in Tod’s lap.
“But I’m seeing someone already.”

“Who?” Tod asked, his fingers closing around Porsche’s wrist in a tight grip.

“Hey,” Porsche said, trying to pull away without causing a scene.

“Tell me,” Tod urged. “Is it your pretty, little co-star?”

“Let go of me.”

Tod shook his head, as both his hands encased Porsche’s, caressing him softly.

“The more you resist, the harder it is to resist you.”

“For crying out loud,” Porsche said, yanking his hand away.

Tod chuckled.

“Is this funny to you?” Porsche asked, irritated.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned the sex thing? Was it the sex thing? Because I know of your…
affinity with sex.”

“Heh?”

Tod tilted his head, frowning slightly.

“Do you think I didn’t do my research? Men and women. Alphas, betas and omegas. Everyone’s
had a piece of you. But then, suddenly, you get in a production with the lovely Pete Saegnthem
and… whoosh,” he waved his hands. “Your sex life just vanishes.”

Of course it vanished. Why would Porsche bother with anyone else when Kinn was right there?

He checked his phone again, wondering, hoping that this time, there would be an unlikely
message.

“I’m not dating Pete.”

“I wouldn't blame you. He’s everyone’s type. And you’re roommates. And you’re working on a hot
play,” Tod said, speaking breathily. “One that requires you to stare into each other’s eyes twenty-
four hours a day. And that’s when you’re not simulating sex for the cast and crew in the name of
“practice”.”

“What exactly do you want from me?”

“I want you to answer your phone when I call.”

Porsche waited for the rest of his demands, but Tod just sat back, watching the podium like he was
listening to what was being said.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Tod said as he stood, straightening his jacket. “Think about it.” He smiled at Porsche.
“But before you get rid of this new card, you might want to look at the back.”
Bowing at Porsche, he walked from the arena, heading straight to his row of bodyguards that had
been waiting at the very back.

Porsche checked the card. It looked very much like the old one with the phone number and the
digital strip on it. But when he looked closely, embossed into the card were two new names and
two phone numbers.

The contact information of Frank Niran and Songkarn Tanawat.

When Porsche looked back, Tod was gone. It was like he’d read Porsche's mind. But then again,
he’d boasted about knowing how to read people. He’d come with the two CEOs, dangled them in
Porsche’s face and dropped them in his lap. He wanted Porsche, for whatever strange reason, and
he was willing to do anything to get him to… to what? Porsche wasn’t still sure he understood
what was on the table, between them.

“Our next speaker,” the MC was saying on the podium. “Is someone we’ve been working very
closely with for years now. An actor, a bold ally and a true friend. Please help me welcome,
Porsche Kittisawad, everybody.”

When the crowd erupted in applause, Porsche stood to his feet with a wave. Taking his place
behind the podium, Porsche checked his phone, one more time. No call. No text. No appearance.

Porsche cleared his mind, reminding himself that he’d come to the rally for the kids. Not to piss
Kinn off. Not to get Tod’s attention. To encourage kids whose lights hadn’t yet been dimmed by
society.

That was what was important and that was all he was going to focus on, at the moment.
 The father to the future husband

When Kinn left Pete’s hospital room, he wanted to call Porsche. It was Thursday and Porsche
wasn’t in the hospital. Kinn could think of only one reason he’d be gone, but he didn’t want to
believe it. Porsche would never do that to him. Porsche loved him. Porsche wanted him. He didn’t
want to believe that Porsche had gone to sleep in Kinn’s bed the previous night, planning to wake
up in the morning and break Kinn’s heart.

The small bag of toiletries and underwear that Toss had dropped off for Porsche during the
weekend, was nowhere to be found.

Hailing Big to bring the car around, Kinn got in. He couldn’t drive to the rally and worry about
parking. As he sat at the back, he scrolled through Instagram. Porsche’s stories were filled with
videos of him, from afar. No doubt, Toss’ doing. The only new reel was a selfie of Porsche talking
as he arrived at the rally, earlier that morning.

When he checked Twitter, disaster struck.

Pictures of Porsche and Tod, from various angles, flooded his timeline. Of course people would
care. Porsche fan accounts were going crazy, as well as press accounts, tweeting about the
possibility of Tod Setely branching out to betas… or the possibility of Porsche being an undeclared
alpha. Multiple accounts were already speculating about which was likely.

Kinn hated it for two reasons. The first of which was that, the idea of Tod showing up to the rally,
sitting beside Porsche, the way that Kinn was supposed to, was torture to watch. Seeing that Tod
had brought two of his alphas with him was not helping. Because Tod had that to offer Porsche, but
what did Kinn have? Porsche knew about as much as he did about what Kinn had or what he could
offer and Kinn was at the end of that rope. There was nothing left. Nothing else.

But there Tod was, in his shiny new suit, offering Porsche alpha support for his omega cause. In a
way that Kinn had never been able to. And Kinn hated it.

Another reason for the hate was the fact that the rally might get overshadowed. Even as he scrolled
through the various hashtags for the day, people were more concerned about Porsche being a
Setely alpha or being Setely’s beta boyfriend. People weren’t talking about the omega rally. They
weren’t tweeting about the issues discussed. They weren’t showcasing the talented omega children
that were surely at the event.

Because Tod Setely had chosen to show up.

“Drive faster,” Kinn said as Book stepped on the gas.

As they turned into the highway, he wondered what his plan was.

Was he going to tell Porsche to step away from Tod? That hadn’t worked when he’d told Porsche
not to come. Porsche cared about the rally too much to cause a scene. So much that he’d chosen
the fucking rally over Kinn. If stepping away from Tod jeopardized any part of it, Porsche might
resist Kinn. Again. In public. In front of Tod.

Was he going to request a civil conversation? He didn't think he’d get one. He closed his eyes as he
remembered that Porsche had tried to have a civil conversation with him, outside of Pete’s hospital
room. He’d tried to remind Kinn that this rally was important. But Kinn hadn’t listened. He hadn’t
heard. How could he? He’d been so busy trying to get Porsche to do as he was told that Kinn had
pushed Porsche so far away.

Was he going to beg? Was he? He had no idea. All he knew was that he wanted Porsche. He
wanted to talk… to explain… to kick Tod Setely in the balls and watch that smug look slip from
his ugly face.

A black car rode into Kinn’s left side as a second car cut in front of him.

“What the fuck?” Big asked as Book slowed down minimally. “They’re boxing us in.”

And truly, when Kinn looked through the back, another car was closing in behind them. The three
cars, moving in tandem, shepherded Kinn’s car off the road till they were all slowing down in the
secluded curve of a sidewalk.

“What do we do, Boss?” Big asked.

“Remain calm,” he replied.

With the engine still turned on, Kinn watched a tall man in dark shades and a black suit emerge
from the car behind and walk up to his window. He knocked and Kinn wound down the window.

“Can I help you?” Kinn asked.

“My boss would like to see you.”

“Where is he?”

The man opened Kinn’s car door and stood aside, waiting for Kinn to get out.

“Khun-Kinn,” Big said.

“Like you said, we’re boxed in.” Kinn adjusted his jacket. “Wait for me.”

He didn’t have time for this bullshit. He wanted to see Porsche and some unknown asshole was
keeping him away. Biting his lips, he got out of the car. The sooner he saw this through, the sooner
he could leave. Besides, a part of him was curious to put a face to the disrespect that anyone would
summon him this way.

He got out, allowing the bodyguard to close the door, before the man ran ahead of him and opened
the back door of the car behind his car, for him. Wringing his neck to ease tension, Kinn shrugged
his shoulders and entered the car.

“Hello, again.”

Kinn smiled as soon as he saw the man sitting in front of him. With the roomy chairs facing each
other, Kinn was afforded the seat backing the drivers, so that they could talk freely.

“Councilman Apinya,” Kinn said, clenching his fist as he rested his elbow on the armrest between
the seats.

“I know you’re a busy man, Kinn, so I’ll try my best to make this quick.”

Apinya pulled a lever that was placed over them, on the roof of the car and suddenly, the car was
reversing and hitting the highway again.

Releasing this was going to take more time out of Kinn’s already tight schedule, he clenched his
fist even harder.

“Do you need something, Sir?”

“A couple of things, actually.” He picked the manila envelope and tossed it into Kinn’s lap. “First
of all, I’d like you to sign those.”

Kinn took out the papers in the envelope, noting the names on it being his and Tawan’s, for the
agreement. It wasn’t the marriage certificate. That would obviously contain more parties and
officials, as any regular marriage could. But an agreement between Kinn and Tawan was,
essentially, an agreement between their families. The kind of agreement that stipulated roles and
rules and regulations for their union. The kind that stated that a mating was compulsory.

Something that neither Tawan nor Kinn wanted.

“Shouldn’t I be signing these with Tawan?”

“Don’t worry about him.”

“He’s the one I’ll be getting married to.”

“My son doesn’t need to be included in this part of things.”

Kinn scoffed.

“You mean you’re doing this behind his back.”

“Sign it, Kinn.”

“What would my father say about this?”

“Korn and I understand each other.”

Kinn doubted that that understanding would extend to abductions in broad daylight. He carefully
put the papers back in the envelope.

“I make it a habit not to sign anything that I haven’t thoroughly vetted.”

Apinya opened the compartment on his side of the car, took out a gun, cocked it and pointed it at
Kinn.

“I don’t think you understand just how serious this is.”

Kinn’s face morphed into an angry sneer as he looked from the gun to Apinya, realizing that there
was no going back from this.

“My father-”

“I thought you were the Theerapanyakul alpha. I thought you were the one with the ring.” Apinya
said. “Sign those papers or-”

“Or what?” Kinn asked, sitting forward as he tossed the envelope to the side. “You’re going to
shoot me?”

“Don’t test me, son.”

“You better make sure that gun goes off and I die because if I leave this car alive, you’re not
surviving pointing a fucking gun at me.”

“Your family will not use my son and toss him away like he’s nothing.”

“I was never planning to.”

“Then sign the papers.”

“Fuck the papers,” Kinn said. “The moment you raised that gun, you made sure this will never
work between your son and I.”

“You were never going to make things work unless I made you.”

The audacity in the old man astounded Kinn beyond measure.

“Made me?”

The car slowed down as the bodyguards emerged from the other cars, heading right for the one
they were in. This was Kinn’s chance. When Kinn’s door opened, he slammed the door into the
bodyguard on the other side and closed it back. Before the councilman could react, Kinn threw his
weight against the man and punched him. He picked up the man’s gun and twisted him around,
keeping his back to the seat as he placed the man between himself and the bodyguards.

When they opened the door again, Kinn put the gun on Apinya’s head.

“Close the door,” Kinn commanded calmly.

The man closest to the door stared at Kinn in shock.

“Sir-”

“Close the fucking door.”

The fact that they thought they could take him was hilarious. When the door closed, he pulled the
lever overhead and the window between the front seats slid open.

“Take me back to my ca-” Kinn started to say as a tranq gun appeared in the window.

Kinn tried to move Apinya, but the man pressed back against him, keeping Kinn there as a dart
pierced into Kinn’s neck.

“Fuck,” he said, pull it out.

Apinya shifted out of the way as another dark hit Kinn in the chest. Quivering, he tried to lift the
gun but his hands had gone limp on him. Unable to move, Kinn looked up at Apinya who had
come back into view.

“Don’t…” Kinn started to say as his whole body, including his mouth, dulled into immobility.

“I’m sorry it had to come to this,” Apinya said to Kinn. “But I’m not letting you out of my sight
until you and Tawan have bitten each other.”
 The place to find comfort
Chapter Notes

So... this is the last one for the week :)

A quiet couple of days followed, with Pete enjoying his last days of solitude and rest, away from
everyone else. Porsche video-called him every night. The first time, Tem, Time and Tay were in
the background, asking Pete how he was doing, offering their pity and giving him empty gossip.
The second day, when Porsche called, he was alone in their room, talking about everything, but
skimming clear of Kinn. Like he wanted to mention Kinn. Like he wanted Pete to mention Kinn.
But Pete knew about as much as Porsche did.

He hadn’t seen Kinn either.

“He’s fine,” Tankhun had said, when he showed up Sunday morning to help Pete back to camp.

“Why haven’t I heard from him?” Kinn would have wanted to see Pete off. Or at least, talk to him.
Or text him. Or call him. But Pete had received neither.

“He called Papa before he disappeared.”

“Disappeared to where?” Pete asked.

“Who knows?” Tankhun shrugged, slowly urging Pete into the car as he protected Pete’s head.
“Kinn does that sometimes. He gets in his head about something and just lists off to fucking
nowhere for a few weeks.”

Which didn’t make sense. Kinn was adamant about being a part of “Overheat” and if he wanted to
leave, he’d tell Pete. He’d give him a call or something.

“Don’t worry,” Tankhun said. “When Papa told me, I called Big. He’s fine. They’re fine. Kinn just
likes to sulk.” As he entered the car, he fixed Pete with a serious stare. “Do you know why he
would do that?”

“Do what?” Pete asked.

“Leave. I know my brother. He likes his space, but only when something happens. Last time, when
he called me to come be with you, he sounded sad. But then the next day, he was okay again, like
nothing happened.” Tankhun moved closer. “Is something going on that I should know about?
Something that’s got my little brother fucked up like this?”

Pete kept his face neutral, trying not to give anything away. The truth was right there. It hadn’t
been hard to put two and two together. Kinn had a sordid history with Awut that he would never
want to replicate. But then he’d started fucking Porsche, who no one knew was an alpha. He’d
been so caught up in Porsche that all his free time was being sucked into his personal time with
Porsche. They were in a relationship, from everything Pete had seen in the hospital. If Kinn had
found out that Porsche was an alpha, after the fact, that would explain his recent, flaky behavior.

But Pete couldn’t tell Tankhun that. It was Kinn’s business. Porsche’s business. Private stuff that
Pete would hate to be revealed about himself if he were the one being discussed.

“Nothing,” Pete said, shaking his head. “He’s been fine, lately.”

Tankhun sighed and sat back.

“Something’s going on,” he said. “Maybe he didn’t tell you but Kinn’s going through it and I hate
that he’s gone off to god-knows-where on his own. He does this shit. He won’t share until it’s too
late and it’s breaking him apart.”

Pete could understand the sentiment.

“If they were blackmailing you for information, why the fuck didn’t you tell Kinn?” Vegas had
asked. He was too ashamed to have been caught. He was sure he could do it, anyway. As blessed
with the gift of foresight that he was, he’d never seen a future where he would care about Vegas.
He’d thought he could handle it by himself.

And he’d ended up being so, so wrong.

***

Pete was met with a cheerful welcome, Monday morning. After his fellow cast members had
hugged him and asked about his recovery, the director took Pete up to his room and asked him to
strip. Tankhun was in the room, legs crossed as he pretended he was busy with his phone.

“My god,” the director exclaimed, frowning as his eyes traveled down the length of Pete’s body.

“The doctor assured me I’d be scar-free in a month.”

“Pete,” the director started to say.

“I have ointments. I’ll be fine.”

“How do you know that?”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been wounded. I can handle it.”

This did nothing to reduce the director’s worry as he sat on his bed, shaking his head.

“Is this something we should worry about?”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s a possible scandal, Pete,” the director said. “Ohmovit doesn’t know about it because I told
them you were sick but if there’s something we should be worried about-”

“It was a family matter. It’s been solved.”

“A lot of people have invested in this production. If one of our leads is in trouble, Ohmovit
deserves to know.”

Pete looked at Tankhun, who was also frowning at Pete. He, unlike the director, was aware of the
circumstances that led to Pete’s injuries. He wasn’t frowning out of worried curiosity. He was
frowning because he was aware that the probability of problems arising was not zero.

“It will be alright, Sir,” Pete said, pulling his baggy joggers over his tights and reaching for his T-
shirt. “I won’t wear revealing clothes for a while, but I’ll be good as new in no time.” He tried to
smile. “Just don’t tell Ohmovit.”

As they left the director’s room, the man still had a frown on his face. Pete hadn’t managed to
convince him that all was well. But he hoped the director was married enough to Pete’s work that
he wouldn’t want to replace him. Whatever he’d been doing before, Pete would have to do more.
He had to show the director that he was the best man to play Pawat.

“Are you alright?” Tankhun asked, strolling beside Pete.

“I’ll be fine.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Well, Pete didn’t have an honest answer to give that would satisfy Tankhun. So he just shrugged,
got into the elevator and punched for the rehearsal floor. He’d lost a whole week of practice
because of his injuries. He had to get back to work. A lot was riding on this and he was going to do
his best to make sure Ohmovit didn’t regret hiring him.

***

Slipping back into a routine was relatively easy. With the addition of a few new occurrences,
everything was going smoothly. Wake up; go to the gym; go to rehearsal; eat; go back to rehearsal;
train; take a bath; go to bed while pretending he couldn’t hear his roommate crying himself to
sleep. Every night. Like clockwork.

Porsche had never asked about Kinn. Not once. Not that he needed to. Tay had asked. Time had
asked. The director had asked. People had asked enough times that, at some point, Porsche must
have gotten the gist of Kinn’s absence. But he didn’t ask, himself.

They had work to do. As long as Porsche was doing his part, as long as he focused when they were
centerstage, as long as he spoke his lines with the correct affect, as long as he met Pete halfway,
Pete was okay with whatever or whoever Porsche wanted to be when they weren’t working.

Unlocking the door to the room, Pete kicked off his shoes and pulled off his shirt as he walked in
to find a black hard drive on his bed. It was the same one he'd given to Vegas. Which meant that
Vegas had come into the room, dropped the drive and left, without saying a word to Pete.

Kneeling by his bed, Pete held the drive, like a favorite toy, imagining Vegas walking into the
room, dropping the drive, and maybe, taking a moment to sit on Pete’s bed. In Pete’s mind, Vegas
missed him, as much as Pete missed Vegas.

He’d been trying his best, so far. He’d put his energy into working and clearing his skin. He hadn’t
allowed himself to think about Vegas because it hurt to remember how Vegas looked at him, how
Vegas had wrenched his arm from Pete’s grasp like Pete was diseased and dangerous.

He couldn’t think of that. Reality was too cruel. Just once, if he was ever going to buy a fairytale,
just to survive, Pete was choosing to spend his money on this moment, on believing that in some
way, on some level, Vegas was thinking about him, too. Vegas was trying to focus on work, so he
wouldn’t remember how good it was between them.

Because it was so good. Pete had never known pleasure like he knew, being with Vegas. The
pleasure of looking in someone’s eyes and seeing himself, and loving what he saw, because what
he saw was beautiful, was a medicine on its own.
Pete took his phone, opened Instagram and made a story of himself with the peace sign and his
tongue out. That was Wan’s sign. Pete had no way to contact him since he always used new
numbers. In the next twenty-four hours, Pete would receive a text and information on where to
send the recordings.

He showered quickly, got ready for bed and loaded the new recordings into his laptop. He hadn’t
heard Vegas’ voice in days. He wasn’t worthy of a call or a visit. But he had the recordings again.
Going under the covers and cradling one of his pillows, Pete listened to the soft, clear voice of
Vegas, as he went about his day.

When Porsche returned, he was careful about his movements. He always was, whenever Pete was
already in bed. Even though he was a clumsy, loud runt, staggering tiredly around the room, Pete
appreciated the effort. As he’d done, many nights before, Porsche took a bath and got into his own
bed as he switched off the lights.

Pete was lucky to have the recordings, but Porsche didn’t even have that. Whatever had happened
between him and Kinn, Porsche was alone and broken about it. Even as Pete listened to Vegas’
beautiful voice, he wanted to be held. He wanted to hold someone and share comfort. If it was that
bad for him, he could only imagine how horrible it was for Porsche who had nothing.

Switching off the recording, Pete got out of bed, took one of his pillows and shuffled over to
Porsche’s bed. He couldn't see but he could hear Porsche’s crying stop as he turned around in bed.

“What happened?” Porsche asked.

“Move over,” Pete said.

“Why?” Porsche asked, making room for Pete on the bed.

“I want to sleep.”

“You literally just got out of your bed.”

“Yeah, well, I want to cuddle.”

Porsche let out a short laugh as Pete adjusted himself under the covers.

“I don’t think this is what the intimacy director meant when he said ‘get into each other’s skin’.”

“Turn,” Pete said as Porsche backed Pete on the bed and Pete slid his hands around Porsche’s
waist. “Sleep. We have work tomorrow.”

It wasn’t much. Every bit of Porsche’s body was intricately different from Vegas’ and Pete
couldn’t help making silent comparisons. But this was better than nothing. Holding someone,
falling asleep with the warmth of another person, was something Pete had grown used to, ever
since he started dallying with Vegas.

Even if it wasn’t perfect, but it was… something. Pete could not believe it, but he found himself,
for the first time in a while, realizing that he, just like everyone else, was also in need of some little
bit of comfort.
 The look at the end

The thirty-foot high billboard on the bridge pass by Ankam was activated. Vegas was on his way
to Graham Blitz, when he spotted the three-second clip that was on repeat, on the board. Clearing
off to the side, he got out of his car to get a better look. He’d seen the samples on his tablet, but
they were nothing compared to the mega-sized clip of Porsche on his back, in a scanty, traditional
omega attire that had been censored by a couple of gold trinkets to the nipples. The draping, red
fabric that covered his arms and legs, that were attached to the band around his waist, lay on the
shimmering ground beneath Porsche, that reflected what was going on above.

Pete was leaning down, his hand on Porsche’s chest as they stared into each other’s eyes, blinking
slowly. “Overheat” hung above them, a dull, yet twinkling banner of text that sat against the dark,
endless, reflecting ground in the background. Pete was almost unrecognizable with the amount of
make-up they’d put on him.

Sexy. Alluring. Daring.

When Vegas noticed the Ohmovit logo, at the bottom of the screen, centered between the other six
logos, Vegas frowned.

Chasing the drain of the leak had led to unfortunate assumptions. Because the ramifications for
what was shaping up would take them all down if Vegas didn’t tread lightly. It would have been
easy to get Kinn involved but Kinn was, as Vegas had been told, taking some time off. And even if
he wasn’t, Vegas didn’t have any concrete proof of anything to go running to Kinn.

Gambit was a small company. Just like a thousand others. But their CEO was a recluse, a young
mogul who’d come out of nowhere. Which wouldn’t have been a problem, if he wasn’t a young
alpha seen in the company of a certain alpha collector.

Then again, that could have been for a bunch of reasons. It was foolish to side-eye any alpha just
because he was talking to Tod. Porsche was talking to Tod and that didn't mean anything. Vegas
had been planning to talk to him, himself. That didn’t mean anything, either.

But Vegas was hearing too many whispers of The Omega. Not many people knew Tod was an
omega. After all, they referred to him as “the alpha’s alpha”. But how many omegas were business
giants with dubious means? One. Vegas knew of exactly one such omega. And that omega had
made moves on Macau and Porsche. Two people who were directly affiliated with Vegas. It
wasn’t a stretch to assume that he might want something from Vegas.

But what?

Ohmovit hired Porsche, even after he’d disclosed his CCD and his undeclared status as an alpha. If
they also, somehow, knew that Pete was an omega, that would be something they’d use against
him. That would explain why they knew to kidnap and tape him. Ohmovit was affiliated with data
companies, communication companies, etc. With Tod’s network of alphas, he could know
everything about everyone in the “Overheat” production.

Getting back in his car, he headed for the camp. He had a simple way to clear or confirm his
suspicions. The fabricated recordings had helped Vegas catch one of The Omega’s men. Judging
from the amount of protection he had, and the respect he got from the men around him, he wasn’t
just anybody.
And no matter what Vegas did, the fucker refused to talk. He had recently been rid of three toes on
his left foot and still, he held his tongue, offering up nothing but a mouthful of spite to Vegas’ face.

When he got to Graham Blitz, the cast and crew were scattered around the hotel. He saw a bunch of
them across the street. He saw a lot in the hallway. He even found some of them in the bar.

“Isn’t it time for rehearsals?” Vegas asked one of the actors.

“Yeah, Pete and Porsche are working on a sex scene, so the director gave us a break.”

Vegas arrived at the rehearsal room, so much faster than was humanly possible.

The door wouldn’t open. When he knocked, there was a turn in the lock and the door clipped open.

“What are you doing here?” Vegas asked.

“Hello to you too,” Tankhun said, opening the door wider to allow him in.

The normally full room was empty, and felt so much bigger with just the six of them present.
Tankhun returned to his place by the glass divider, sitting and crossing his legs as he read a book.
In the corner, at the back, sat Toss, with his headphones on. He hadn't even realized that Vegas
was present. Vegas decided not to disturb him.

On the rehearsal floor, Pete and Porsche were lying down, this time, with Porsche on top. One of
his legs was between Pete’s while the other was hanging off to the side at a weird angle. Vegas
didn’t know if he was disappointed that they had on clothes or if he was happy about it.

“Can’t I just…” Porsche asked, moving the hanging leg.

“Nope,” the director said. “That leg is blocking your penis from the east gallery.”

“What if I-”

“Look,” the director said with a sigh. “You signed a contract for one showing that won’t be filmed.
Which means, the epilogue sex scene. So, even though I desperately want to show the whole world
what you’re working with, we cannot do that.”

Giving up, Porsche fell back on the floor.

“Are sex scenes this tiresome?”

“You need practice,” Pete said with a laugh, leaning over Porsche, their faces so close together.
“When you get comfortable with it, you won’t even notice.”

“How won’t I notice that I’m trying to hide angles and whatnot?”

“Trust me.” Pete put his head on Porsche's chest. “When you know what to do, once the scene
starts, it’s easy to get into it.”

“You think so?” Porsche asked.

“Really?” the director asked, his voice etched with slight displeasure. “I’ve been saying that for
weeks. Yet one word from Pete and you’re listening?”

Shaking his head, the director got up and left them on the rehearsal floor, giggling together. The
clip of them together flashed the billboard through Vegas’ mind, once again. The intimacy they
had with it. Three seconds that should have been nothing. Three seconds of Pete and Porsche
staring into each other’s eyes. And yet, it seemed like the world had fallen away. Like the rest of
them were forgotten in the vast emptiness of the reflecting glass that was in the clip. If Vegas
didn’t know any better, he would believe there was something there.

Maybe on Porsche’s part. But Pete? He was too good of an actor. He’d “fallen in love” with too
many of his co-stars for Vegas to believe what he was looking at was anything more than Pete
clocking in on his nine-to-five.

Clearing his throat, Vegas caught Pete and Porsche’s attention.

“Hey,” Porsche said. “You’re back.”

“Not really. Pete, can I speak to you for a moment?”

Looking confused, Pete extracted himself from Porsche’s embrace and jogged over to Vegas.

“Is there a problem?”

“Do you remember what the man who took you looked like?”

Scratching his eyebrows, Pete shook his head.

“I didn’t see his face. There was a huge floodlight in my face, the entire time.”

“Did you see his silhouette? Did it remind you of anybody?”

He thought about it and shook his head again so Vegas brought out his phone and opened a bunch
of pictures.

“This is Tod Setely,” Pete said, scrolling through. “I don’t know. His body kinda fits a bit. Tod is
tall and slightly built with a bit of muscle. And yeah, that guy’s silhouette looked like that. But so
do a million other people.”

“Did you remember anything about him?”

“His scent. I was in heat so everything about his scent was really,” he gestured towards himself. “In
my face, kinda.”

“Like an alpha’s scent? Or like a fellow omega?”

Pete closed his eyes and frowned.

“No, not like that. He wasn’t rutting or in heat or anything. He was just giving off regular vibes.
Like a beta. But distinct. I can’t explain it. If I’m around him again, I’ll know.”

Tod Setely was on suppressants 24/7. His scent would read neutral like a betas to an omega in
heat.

Vegas was going crazy. He’d have to find a way to get Pete and Setely in the same room.

When he turned to go, Pete called to him.

“What?” he asked.

“Do you need me for anything?” Pete asked. “Anything at all. I’m here.”
He wanted to be useful. Vegas knew that. But to what extent, Vegas wasn’t aware.

“I’ll let you know if I need you.”

Flashing Vegas a grateful, happy smile, Pete nodded and returned to rehearsal. Vegas couldn’t help
himself. He couldn’t stop himself from sparing Pete one last look, watching him walk away in that
breezy, sexy way he carried himself. Especially when he knew Vegas was looking.

Catching himself, Vegas looked away.

To find Tankhun watching him with one raised eyebrow.

Oh fuck.

“Not a word,” Vegas said.

“Hey,” Tankhun said, locking his lips and throwing away the key.

But that meant fuck all, because if Vegas had ever met someone who was the biggest gossip, it
would be Tankhun. Shaking his head, Vegas let himself out of the rehearsal room, knowing that
before dinner, Tay and Time and all their combined group of friends would surely know that Vegas
had stared at Pete for a little longer than was professionally necessary.
 The unidentified feeling
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

He realized, days earlier, that he’d forgotten his shaving kit in Kinn’s home. But Porsche didn’t
want to go back there. He didn’t want to send the wrong message. Toss had gotten him a new set,
just so Porsche wouldn’t have to worry.

But he’d worried. The new set didn't feel as good as the one he’d broken in and gotten used to. By
the time it was confirmed that Kinn was away, Porsche made a note to go check during the
weekend. He’d be in and out as quickly as possible.

At least, that had been the plan.

Waltzing into the main family compound wasn’t the problem. As the guards greeted him, going
about their day as they usually did, Porsche headed straight to Kinn’s room. As he opened the door
and stepped in, he paused, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths. Kinn’s cologne still hung
in the air. Even after days of being away.

He couldn’t stay longer than he had to. But he couldn’t help himself. Pulling out a drawer of
undershirts, Porsche sat on Kinn’s bed, nose buried in the familiar scent. He wanted to remember it
better when he went to sleep. He wanted to arm his senses with pieces of Kinn for later. Because
who knew when next he’d be allowed in Kinn’s presence.

Opening the box of Butiel tabs, Porsche hesitated. Kinn always burned a tablet whenever he was
home. He liked the smell. It calmed him. Porsche did it for him, whenever he woke up before
Kinn, because Kinn liked to wake up to the flowery, leathery corn smell wafting through the room.
Porsche had lit one the morning he left. He remembered distinctly, because he’d opened a new
packet. He’d taken out just one, lit it and left.

Looking at this packet, it was still the same one. Kinn hadn’t lit another one, that day. Either he
hadn’t come home, or he’d come home so quickly that the one Porsche lit was still burning.

Which was impossible.

Porsche opened the cabinet where extra supplies were, in Kinn’s room, and surely, the set of Butiel
packs were exactly as Porsche had left them. If Kinn was taking a trip, he’d have taken a packet, at
least.

He went to Kinn’s cupboard, throwing the doors open as he counted all six sets of boxes in place.
He dragged them out, checking for the one that Kinn might have packed his things in. Whenever
he took trips on a whim, he liked to use the smallest box, or the bag in the set. So Porsche opened
each box set, from the biggest, till he got to the smallest one at the center. When he was done,
Porsche sat in a sea of open box sets and dialed Vegas’ number.

“Do you know where Kinn is?”

“I thought we were avoiding him,” Vegas said.

“I’m serious.”

“What’s the problem?”

“Do you have a tracker on Kinn?”

“Nope.”

“Vegas.”

“I don’t. I swear.” Then a pause. “But the main family does.”

Porsche rose up on his knees.

“Where is he?”

Vegas sighed.

“Porsche, he needs his space.”

“I’m not trying to disturb him.”

“I thought you guys had worked it out but then he ran away. And I know it had something to do
with you, so just… give him a moment.”

“Something’s wrong, Vegas.”

“Nothing’s wrong. This is how he is.”

“No, it’s not. He didn't pack a bag. His incense is still here. And even Tankhun hasn’t spoken to
him. Doesn’t that seem sketchy to you?”

“I don’t know-”

“Just find him for me. Please, Vegas.”

“I don’t like this, but give me a moment.”

As the call cut, Porsche went to Kinn’s drawer. They’d had that conversation a bunch of times.
Even though Porsche’s parents didn’t believe in guns, even though they always frowned at the
possibility of Porsche and Chay being around guns, Kinn had other plans. Since Kinn got his first
gun, he’d made sure that Porsche knew where he stored it. As the cache of guns grew, spreading
out across Kinn’s favorite places, such as his room, his office, Porsche’s apartment, Kinn had made
sure to stock up the place. Porsche didn’t own a gun. He didn't carry one. But if he ever needed it,
he knew where to look.

Picking two guns, and a few packs of bullets, Porsche put them in a bag, just as his phone rang.

Leaving the mess behind in Kinn’s room, Porsche spoke as he exited.

“He’s in the middle of nowhere.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ve sent you the coordinates. But it’s nothing, Porsche.”

“Have you ever been to that place before?”

“No.”

“And you don’t think it’s fishy?”

 “I have safehouses around the country that the main family has no idea about. It’s safe to say that
Kinn has secret places that I’ve never even heard of.”

“In the middle of nowhere?”

“That’s the best place to keep safehouses. Look, just be careful. You don’t want to make things
worse between you two just because you’re being impatient.”

“I’m not being impatient. It just doesn’t feel right.”

Vegas was quiet.

“You’re sure about that.”

“I feel like something happened to him.”

“Okay then,” Vegas said. “Check out the place. If it’s fine, don’t approach him. Turn the car
around and come right back.”

“And if I’m right?”

“Call me immediately.”

Porsche tossed the bag into the front seat, put his car in reverse and left the compound. He knew he
was right. This wasn't just some ploy to spy on Kinn or some desperate attempt to beg for Kinn’s
forgiveness. He could feel it in his bones, now. Something was definitely up. Kinn was in trouble.

Porsche wasn’t going to let it go until he knew what the fuck was going on, for sure.

Chapter End Notes

fret not. a second chapter will up in a moment

 The mating
Chapter Notes

Trigger warning: Non-con

We're getting two chapters back-to-back because Porsche's chapter was a little short

Kinn groaned when he woke.

He gave himself a moment or two to acclimate to the bright lights. When he finally opened his
eyes, it was to the sight of a dimly lit room, with marble floors and cream-colored walls, that were
lined by the fluffiest chairs. The chairs covered all four walls, leaving space for two doors, one of
which Kinn assumed was a bathroom, while the other led out of the room. There was a mini
chandelier above head, with tiny bulbs of yellow and blue, that rotated in slow motion, casting dim
colors upon the walls.

He was in a four-poster bed, with the curtains of the posts, pulled up, but still draped over the side.
The air was scented. Kinn could smell the added fragrance. But it had nothing to do with the red
petals that were spread all over the room; on the floor, on the bed, on the chairs. In the corner,
there was a trolley of wine, with two glasses leaning against each other.

He could see what they were going for, and honestly, under other circumstances, Kinn would have
thought it was romantic. But given that, currently, both his hands were cuffed to opposite corners
of the bed, it was hard to feel the love.

There was movement outside the door. When the door opened, Tawan walked in. He had a phone
in his ear, his coat and bag in his hand, and he was still dressed like he’d just come from the office.

“What the hell?” he said, flipping the switch. As the room brightened, Tawan jerked back, his
phone slipping from his hand as the door behind him slammed shut. “What are you doing here?”

“Ask your father,” Kinn said.

Tawan shook his head, reaching for the door as he attempted to open it. But the door he’d just
come in from was locked, unwilling to budge.

“No, no, no, no, no.” Tawan banged on the door. “Papa! Please.”

“Uncuff me,” Kinn said, but Tawan didn’t seem to hear him as he knelt down, picking up his
phone and dialing.

“Papa,” Tawan pleaded. “I said I would handle it. Please open the door.”

Kinn didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved that Tawan was as much a prisoner as he was.
Because, on the one hand, he didn’t want to imagine what it felt like for a father to sacrifice his son
like this. But on the other hand, if Tawan was still against the bite, then Kinn didn’t have to worry
about being in such a vulnerable position.

As he listened to Tawan try to reason with his father, Kinn couldn’t help wondering why his own
father hadn’t come. Big and Boot would have reported his predicament by now. He had a tracker
on him. If he was in trouble, then the main family guards ought to be knocking down doors.

Unless Big and Boot were also somewhere in the compound. Bound. Unable to call for backup.
Fuck, they needed to update their protocols if present ones weren’t keeping them safe.

“Papa!” Tawan called. “Fuck!” He banged on the door. “Open this fucking door.” He kicked it and
kicked it till he gave up and sat by it, raising his knees and burying his head in them.

“Tawan,” Kinn said, drawing Tawan’s attention. “Uncuff me.”

Tawan’s lips trembled like he was on the verge of tears as he got up from the door and headed for
Kinn. He found the keys by the side of the bed.

“We can wait this out,” Kinn offered. “My family will come.”

“When?” Tawan sat by Kinn’s right hand, turning the cuffs around to unlock it.

“Do you have any suppressants?”

“I don’t take suppressants.”

“Fuck,” Kinn said, realizing that they were in trouble.

“It’s fine. You’re right. We can wait this out. My last heat was two months ago. It’ll be another
four months before I see another heat.”

“We can’t wait this out.”

“Why not?” Tawan asked, looking concerned. “You just said-”

“I’m on suppressants.”

Tawan stopped trying to turn the cuffs as he quickly got off the bed, like Kinn had a disease.

“Take these cuffs off, please,” Kinn said, as calmly as he could.

“Wait, so if we’re in here another twenty-four hours and the suppressants wear off, your rut will
trigger?”

“Tawan-”

“I’m not on suppressants so if your rut triggers, you’ll trigger me and then we’ll both just be trying
to fuck.”

“We can control ourselves. Now get these cuffs off.”

Tawan shook his head, cradling the key to his chest as he moved even further away.

“No!”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You’re bigger than me. You’re stronger than me. You’re an alpha.”

“That doesn't mean anything.”

“We’re locked in a room, about to go into cycles, Khun-Kinn. Surely, you can see how this isn’t an
ideal situation for me.”

Tawan had experienced two heats. He was new to it and unable to regulate his hormones and
emotions so Kinn could understand his fear. There was a certain mindlessness about cycles the first
few times. He could understand why Tawan would think it was the same for everyone.

“Fine,” Kinn said. “Uncuff one hand, at least.”

Tawan shook his head again.

“You’re as much a threat to me as I am to you, Tawan.”

“I won’t bite you.”

“How do we know that?” Kinn asked.

Tawan’s eyes roved on the ground, from side to side, like he was thinking. He shook his head,
blinked and nodded, before looking up at Kinn.

“Okay.” He headed for the bathroom door. “I’ll- I’ll- I’ll… lock the door.”

He removed the key, entered the bathroom and locked the door.

“That won’t work,” Kinn shouted. “You could just open it and come out if your hormones get in
your head.”

“Fine.” There was a rattling going on, on the other side of the door. Seconds later, the door key slid
out from under the door.

Kinn sighed, staring at the ceiling in frustration.

“How long does your heat last?”

“Five… six days?”

“Will you stay there for six days? What of feeding? What if I need to use the bathroom?”

“Okay…” Tawan hesitated. “So maybe we didn't think this through.”

“We?” Kinn asked, trying not to get mad.

They were so fucked. Their best chance was in uncuffing Kinn before their cycles hit. At least, he
could have tried to break the door or get the windows open. Tawan had just locked them both apart
from each other. If he’d listened to Kinn, they would have been together, with better chances.

But as it stood, they were separated by a door, unable to help each other. And unable to escape.

***

Kinn couldn’t sleep that night. His hands cramped and relaxed a bunch of times. His wrists were
raw from pulling at it, but the posts held up. No matter how hard he tried, he was stuck, unable to
do more than shuffle about the bed. With his hands apart, hanging slightly above his shoulder,
Kinn’s back was strained, as well.

However, he was thankful for the discomfort. He couldn’t imagine relaxing and falling asleep. In
someone else’ bed. The nightmares had reduced significantly. At least, he didn’t wake up covered
in sweat, with fear gripping his chest. But there were other things… other nightly happenings that
he didn’t want to occur.

Porsche never talked about it. The few times it happened, they usually just woke up, changed the
sheets and aired out his mattress, like it was nothing. Because Porsche was safe enough for Kinn’s
shame. Porsche would back Kinn up, no matter what.

He didn’t expect the same treatment from Tawan. Fiancé or not, Tawan was still just a stranger.

As morning dawned, Kinn was already beginning to feel the tinges of a rut. His nipples were
getting sore, his dick was hardening and the promise of a knot was already forming. He hadn’t
taken a pill the day before, so it was way past twenty-four hours. The longer he went without
stimulation, the harder the pounding in his head got. It also didn’t help that he could smell Tawan.
Sometime around dawn, Tawan’s scent had started wafting through the gap in the bathroom door,
soaking into Kinn’s senses, surrounding him, drowning him in the intoxication of an omegas’
presence.

The first moan from Tawan was all it took for Kinn’s knot to nudge, pushing against his pants,
itching to be let out. He envied Tawan his freedom to move about in the bathroom. At least, he
could jerk off. He could masturbate. He could cum.

Kinn was stuck, trying to hump the air, trying not to moan too loud, pulling against the cuffs
desperate for some friction beyond light fabric. As the second evening came, Kinn was in tears. He
was practically licking the air to get a taste of Tawan. A rut that he could have ridden out, alone,
had become nothing but torture. He’d knotted twice to dry orgasms that were forced out of him. He
needed to jerk off before another knot popped again. He needed to cum. He needed to jizz all over
the fucking bed, rub his dick till the knot expanded, giving way for a seamless, blissful orgasm.
But he couldn’t have that.

Not. When. His fucking. Hands. Were. Tied!

There was a knock at the door as a guard opened it, rolling in another trolley, but this one was
filled with food. As soon as he saw Kinn, he pulled out his walkie-talkie.

“Khun-Kinn is still cuffed to the bed, Sir. And Khun-Tawan…” at that moment Tawan moaned
loudly; deep and guttural. “He’s in the bathroom, Sir.”

“Bring him out,” the gruff voice of the councilman said.

“No…” Kinn said, his voice scratchy and dry. “Please, don’t do-don’t do that.”

The guard picked the bathroom key, opened the door and the moment he opened it, Kinn was hit in
the face with a blast of omega pheromones. Turning away, choking on want and desire, Kinn
coughed. The guard went in and gently dragged out the weak-looking omega that he lay by the side
of the bed.

Kinn knew he could have taken this chance if he wasn’t cuffed. He was weak and hard and his
joints were stiff, but he was sure he’d be able to take the guard. As the man put the trolley off to
the side, he retraced his steps, shut the door and locked them back up.

In the silence of the room, Tawan sniffed, mewling quietly on the ground, like he was in pain. He’d
lost his pants and underwear, at some point, but he was still wearing his undershirt. He was
breathing and judging from the smell, Kinn just knew that man was covered in cum.
“Are you… are you okay?”

Tawan mumbled something that Kinn couldn't hear.

“What was that?”

“You smell like heaven,” Tawan said.

Whatever concern Kinn felt, vanished as his stomach sank.

Slowly, with a lot of effort, Tawan sat up, his head peeking up from the side of the bed, as he
stared up at Kinn with tired, bloodshot eyes. There were blisters around his mouth and his nose was
dripping. When he put his hand on the bed, Kinn shifted his leg away.

“Tawan?” he said. “Calm down.”

Carefully, hissing in pain, Tawan climbed the bed, hand grabbing Kinn’s ankle as he crawled
towards him.

“You’re so hard,” he said.

“Don’t,” Kinn said, kicking off Tawan’s hand but Tawan got between Kinn’s legs, spreading them
apart with his body.

“I could smell you before.” His voice was just as scratchy as Kinn’s. Tawan sniffed, rubbing his
nose, making it even redder. “You’re practically bursting with need. I can feel it. I can smell it. Oh
god, I want your knot.” He moaned, reaching for Kinn’s zipper.

“You’re drunk on pheromones.”

He hummed, lips searching for Kinn’s, but Kinn turned away. Tawan’s lips brushed against Kinn’s
cheek as he sucked on it, licking and moving down till he was nibbling at Kinn’s neck.

Kinn’s head went blank, for a second. Scared, he froze, unable to move, as Tawan’s lips sucked
and his tongue licked. He could feel every inch of Tawan’s body, on his own. He could feel
Tawan doing away with Kinn’s zipper, forcing his pants down his hips in a frenzy, freeing Kinn’s
dick as it came up for air. He was super sensitive, his knot itching to expand, to usher in another
orgasm.

“Ple…please,” Kinn whispered, clenching his eyes shut as he finally regained movement in his
body. “You don’t want this-”

Tawan’s hand had found Kinn’s knot, rubbing it as a long moan choked out of Kinn, because
FINALLY, something… someone was touching him. Kinn’s hands strained against the cuff,
pulling as the cuffs cut into his skin.

“Fucking stop!” he yelled.

Tawan wasn’t listening to him. He probably couldn’t even process what he was doing, as he jerked
Kinn off, staring down at Kinn’s dick with desperate lust.

He climbed into Kinn’s lap, positioning his dick beneath his hole. Kinn tried to buck him off, but
Tawan was deceptively strong, pressing Kinn’s shoulders against the wall.

“Tawan!” Kinn said. “TAWAN!”

But Tawan couldn't hear him.

“Snap out of it.”

Tawan’s sleek, welcoming asshole slid down on Kinn’s dick, gripping his knot as Kinn’s entire
body vibrated with the pleasuring pressure of it. He couldn’t help it. His body was responding to
something he really didn’t want. Tawan didn’t want it either. Neither of them had asked for this.
And yet, there they were, Tawan riding Kinn’s knot, moaning, his ass gripping and releasing, a
soft caress, alternating with a hard hold, driving Kinn mad with a desperate need to ejaculate.

Snapping his head back, Kinn’s teeth extended, as the urge to bite the omega in front of him was
too strong.

Not knowing what he was doing, he lunged up at Tawan, but the cuffs held him back. Tawan, too
gone to care, didn’t even protect himself. His eyes were closed, too, neck exposed, as he braced
himself on Kinn’s shoulders, moaning, fucking himself on Kinn’s dick, moving faster and faster as
the tension just kept building and building and building, till Kinn shouted, and came, flooding
Tawan’s insides with cum.

This time, when the knot expanded, inside of Tawan, inside an omega, after a satisfying orgasm,
Kinn was delirious with joy, unable to help the wrecked smile that spread on his face.

Even as tears flowed down the side of his eyes.

***

When he woke up, Tawan was snoring lightly against Kinn’s chest. They were bound together by
Kinn’s knot. Kinn tried not to think about it, tried not to hate himself for liking it. Because he
hadn’t. He hadn’t even had enough energy to see it through till the knot finished expanding,
locking Tawan from moving away. It would be hours before the knot receded enough for Tawan to
move.

Still very tired, Kinn barely had time to assess his surroundings before he passed out, once again.

***

There was a new trolley when he woke up.

Tawan was gone. Kinn’s clothes were gone. Someone had cleaned him up and covered him with a
blanket.

And the best part? His wrists were no longer cuffed.

Sitting up, he found a set of house clothes waiting for him on one of the fluffy chairs. As he went to
put it on, moving slowly because everything still ached, he could hear movement inside the
bathroom. His stomach growled and he went to the trolley, noting that some of the food was
tampered with. As he ate, he could hear Tawan, going at it, again.

Kinn could manage. He was still hard and Tawan’s pungent scent wasn’t helping. But he needed to
eat. He needed to rest. He had no idea how Tawan still had energy to still be masturbating.
Everything in Kinn’s body felt old and unused, like a forgotten machine in need or oiling.

Even as he ate, Kinn’s eyes felt heavy. But he kept going. Fluids, carbs, protein. He needed those
as much as he needed to cum, during a rut. And if he was going to hold out for help to find him, he
needed all the strength he could muster. Chewing and drinking and chewing, Kinn fell asleep in the
chair, with food still in his mouth.

***

“I’m sorry,” Tawan said as he placed a tiny, blinking tracker on the bed, beside Kinn. “I’m s-sorry
for what I did, but I’m also sorry for everything that happened when I woke up.”

As Tawan spoke, Kinn picked up the tracker. It was still blinking a bright green.

“I was going to leave you like that, but there was cum all over you and… other disgusting bodily
fluids. So I took your clothes off and cleaned you up. I’m sorry I did that, too.”

Kinn closed his fist around the tracker.

“But I found that when I was sorting your clothes to be washed,” Tawan said, gesturing at the
tracker. “It’s broadcasting your current location, right?”

Kinn nodded.

“It’s been five days. Six,” he corrected. “And yet, no one has come for you, Kinn. Your family
hasn’t heard from you and there’s a functioning tracker, and yet they haven’t used it.”

“Maybe they don’t know I’m missing.”

“After six days?” Tawan asked. “Do you usually go missing without a word?”

Never. Kinn always made it a point to tell someone. Papa, Mama, Tankhun. Someone. With the
amount of attempts on their lives, they’d grown up knowing that no matter how angry or sad or in
need of some personal time that you were, you had to check in. Someone had to know that you
were alright, or guards would come for you.

“We already knew my father did this to us. I guess now, we know your father was in on it, too.”

Kinn didn’t want to believe it. Papa wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t make such a permanent decision
without discussing it with Kinn, first. Mama wouldn’t let him. A mating? That was serious shit. If
something had gone wrong, if Tawan had been too frenzied and had bitten Kinn, while Kinn was
unable to reciprocate… if Tawan had refused to let Kinn bite him back, things could have been
incredibly fucked for Kinn.

Not to mention the fact that Kinn didn’t even want to be bitten by Tawan in the first place.

If Papa had agreed to this…

Kinn didn’t know what to say to that.

Which meant that Kinn was all on his own. No one was coming to get him. If he was going to be
free, he had to get out all on his own.

***

Tawan drew him a map, laying out the many routes Kinn could take to leave. Kinn’s wrists were
bandaged, and beginning to heal, but his body wasn’t quite hundred percent. He hadn't fully
recovered from the rut. He wasn’t even sure the rut was over. But he could walk around the room,
so he was sure he could jog his way out. He’d need a gun. The guard who always brought their
food had one.
When he came to give them lunch, Kinn jumped him from behind as Tawan closed the door. They
pushed the trolley off to the side.

“Go,” Tawan said, giving Kinn the guard’s walkie-talkie. “So that you hear how they’re moving.”

“You’re not coming with me?”

“I’ll slow you down.” Tawan searched for sheets to use to tie the guard. “I’ll keep him here so you
have a head start. Go.”

“But-”

“He’s my father. What’s he going to do to me?”

Kinn could have pointed out the many things a kidnapping, coitus-forcing, dart-shooting father
could do to his child. He could have mentioned just how dreadful things could get for Tawan if he
stayed behind. But he didn’t. Because, in that moment, Kinn was feeling a little selfish. Tawan was
right. He would slow Kinn down and Kinn needed to worry about himself out there.

When he got free, he’d come back for Tawan. He’d make sure Tawan was fine. He just had to set
himself free, first.

“Be careful,” Kinn said.

Tawan pushed him towards the door. As soon as Kinn was out, Tawan locked the door behind him.
Checking the gun for bullets, Kinn stayed close to the wall as he ran down the corridor, leading to
the elevator.

He’d come into the house unconscious, but he had Tawan’s map and info. He’d be out in no time.
The next time he saw the councilman, Kinn would be armed with so much more than a tiny, hand
gun.

And then they’d be able to have a proper conversation.

 the kiss, long awaited

Pete walked into the minor mansion with the ever-present feeling of dread. Porsche had promised
his apology to Vegas’ father but Pete hadn’t gotten around to it just yet. He wondered what would
happen if that man saw Pete now, if he looked out a window and saw Pete walking into his home
without an escort, without Vegas, without an apology.

If he could, Pete would have offered it sooner. But he had other things on his mind as he let
himself into Vegas’ wing, closing the door to the corridor gently as he made his way to the
dungeon.

“Vegas has my man,” Wan had said when he called Pete. “Get him out of there.”

It was a test. It had to be. Pete had listened to the twenty hours he’d sent. The very same twenty
hours that had led to the capture of one of Wan’s men. Vegas set him up and it had yielded fruits.
Even Vegas had said so when he’d come to find Pete. He had a man in his dungeon that he was
torturing for information and he wasn’t getting anywhere with him.

If the recording had been a trap, Wan would know by now and this little, not-so-little request had
to be a test to see if Pete was still loyal. If Pete had had a say, he would have asked Vegas to not be
so obvious. They’d had one chance to fool Wan and they’d failed. And now, Pete was the one
bearing the consequences.

“What do you expect me to do?” Pete had asked.

“I don’t know,” Wan replied. “You don’t have to do anything. You can watch your career go down
the drain when our lovely home video is uploaded for the whole country to see.”

Pete hesitated when he got to the dungeon door. The last time he’d been here, he’d been dragged
in, his knee knocking against the frame as his ankle toe knocked against the sharp divider on the
ground. Khun-Kun had been ruthless, taking Pete by the hair as he slammed his face into a wall
and everything went dark.

When he’d awoken, he was strung up, dangling from the ceiling, wearing nothing but a pair of
boxer pants. His jaw was swollen, one eye couldn’t open and the skin on his chest and back hurt
like they’d been flogged till he peeled. He’d been unconscious for most of it. But that didn’t stop
Khun-Kun when he realized Pete was, once again, conscious.

Pete opened the door and peeped into the dimly lit room. Entering in, he gently closed the door.
With every step he took, he couldn’t help walking the path his unwilling body had taken, while he
was dragged in here. A reminder that Vegas was cut from unfriendly stock. Pete had been fucking
with a man who was capable of just as much as his father was, if not more.

Closing his eyes to bring some peace to his mind, Pete focused on why he’d come. The pillars in
the dungeon hide most corners, but by the time he came around the second one, he found a man
seated in a metal chair, his hands and feet bound to the ground, where spikes from the binds grazed
against his skin. He was just as naked as Pete had been. He’d bled onto the floor, with his head
hanging over his chest as spit drooled from his mouth.

And this… this wasn’t Khun-Kun’s doing. This was all Vegas. This was the doing of the man Pete
had casually fucked to get information. Once again, he was reminded of just how screwed he could
have been if Vegas wasn’t being so lenient with him.
Without wasting time, Pete found a bunch of keys hanging on the wall and went to the man’s foot
to unlock the first ankle. The clanging of the keys startled him into consciousness as he tried to
shift away.

“Shhhh,” Pete said. “Please be quiet.”

“I’m not telling you anything,” the man said, bitingly as he flinched in pain.

“I’m here to help you,” Pete whispered, raising the keys to the man’s eye level.

As his eyes moved from the key to Pete’s face, they widened in shock.

“Pete Saengthem?” he asked.

“Wan sent me.”

“Oh thank god,” he said. “Get me out of here.”

Trying to steady his hands, Pete found the first key for the first lock.

“How did they capture you?”

“You gave us false info,” he accused.

“It’s from the same source as everything else I’ve ever given you,” Pete said, unwilling to reveal
that he’d been compromised. If he did, he wouldn't be useful anymore. If he wasn’t useful, Wan
would release that video.

“Then you’ve been made,” the man said as his second foot was unlocked.

“No, I haven’t.”

The man stamped his foot and Pete looked up at him in surprise.

“If he hasn’t confronted you about it, it’s because he wants to feed us fake information. You’re
compromised.”

It was foolish to keep arguing this point, because even Wan seemed to think so. If Pete wanted to
survive, he had to come at this from another angle.

“What do I do?” Pete asked, mouth hanging open in feigned fear. “If he knows… if he gave me
false info, then I’m… I’m not safe here. I can’t come back here.”

The man grabbed Pete’s face with his only free hand that was covered in scabs and dried blood.

“You have to stay.”

“My life is in danger-”

“Wan needs you. You must stay, or else.”

One problem solved , Pete thought as he nodded, looking into the face of a man that was
attempting to sacrifice Pete for his own objectives. When Pete unlocked his second hand, the man
flexed his fingers, flinching with every single bit of movement.

“Here,” Pete said, picking one of Vegas’ leather coats from the wall. “Cover yourself with this and
follow me.”

Carefully, following the hidden door at the end of the corridor, Pete led the man through the green-
walled tunnel that he’d been shown. He remembered coming to confront Vegas and forcing Vegas
to see him. He’d been so sure Vegas would punch him or shoot him, but Vegas had reacted
frantically, asking the guard at the gate to bring Pete in through this secret tunnel so that his father
wouldn’t see Pete. He’d been trying to protect Pete.

Even as he was mad and betrayed, he didn’t want to see Pete suffer.

As they got to the mouth of the tunnel, Pete turned in the direction of a round, metal gate that
didn’t lead to the main gate. Retrieving the keys, he opened up the gate for the man. When he
moved to leave, Pete stopped him.

“I’m risking my life here,” he said.

“I know.”

“You’re asking me to stay in danger,” he said. “I hope Wan knows this.”

“I’ll let him know.” As he walked through the gate, he turned to Pete. “Thank you.”

“Go,” Pete said, as the man walked into the night, disappearing into the bushes beyond the gate.

He’d done his part. Wan wanted his man back. They knew his cover was blown, but he was, at
least, still useful.

At least, Pete hoped, he was still useful enough to keep his secrets secret.

***

After he’d locked up the gate and made his way back through the tunnel, he let himself into Vegas’
room. As he closed the door, he rested against the frame, tired, worn out and even if he didn’t want
to admit it, a little afraid.

Bracing himself, he pushed away from the door. Any moment spent in Vegas’ presence, had
become a source of discomfort. Where they’d found companionship in the past, Pete found nothing
but hesitation and physical avoidance. At least Vegas was talking to him again. Vegas was seeking
him out, asking him about Wan. At least Pete could take solace in that. But beyond that, there was
nothing else.

Moving close to where Vegas stood at his desk with his back to the door. He’d turned his laptop
around to face him.

“How’s it going?” Pete asked, peeking over Vegas’ shoulder.

“It’s alright,” Vegas said with a shrug.

Pete stood beside him, looking down at the video footage on the screen of Vegas’ laptop. It was a
very shaky camera, galloping from side to side as if attached to the collar of a person’s clothing.
The camera was moving quickly through the dark evening, stopping only when the sounds of other
people could be heard, before he started moving again.

When Pete looked away from the laptop, he found Vegas watching him, intently. Going red from
head to toe, Pete forced himself not to look away. Having Vegas’ attention was a rare occurrence,
these days. He wanted to bask in it, a little. He wanted to let him remind him of when things were
good and easy between them.

“What?” Pete inquired, carefully.

“I don’t know what to think of you when you lie so easily.”

Unable to hold Vegas’ gaze, Pete blinked, looking up at the ceiling.

“What was I supposed to do?” he asked.

“Exactly what you did,” Vegas replied. “You sold the lie to him and now he’s going back to Wan
with a coat that has a camera on the collar.” Vegas gestured at the footage before them of the man
who was still running through the woods.

“Then why are you saying it like I did something wrong?” Pete could stop frustration from seeping
into his voice. “Why are you-”

“Because I’m not supposed to have people around me who can lie better than I can.”

Pete laughed, looking away as he wiped away the wetness gathering in his eyes.

“I only did what you asked me to. If you can’t trust me, why am I here?”

“Because I need you.”

“Right,” Pete said, putting his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Since I’ve done what you needed
, I’ll see myself out.”

As he turned to go, Vegas held him by the neck, pulling Pete to him in a hard, clashing kiss.
Excellent reader of people that Pete was, he hadn’t seen that coming. He didn’t understand how
Vegas had gone from avoiding him, to staring at him to kissing him so desperately in the span of a
few seconds.

Pulling away, Pete wanted to clear his head. Assess the situation. Ask Vegas what the fuck was
going on. But as he pulled away, Vegas went right to him, keeping their lips locked as he slipped
his tongue right into Pete’s mouth, fingers threading through Pete’s hair at the base of his neck. A
soft reminder of Vegas’ loving caress.

Unable to help himself, Pete melted into the kiss, wrapping his hands around Vegas and allowing
himself to have this. He didn’t have to think about it. He’d obsessed over it enough for weeks now.
He’d missed this, longed for it, wished that Vegas would spare him a tiny glance.

And now that Vegas had given him this much, Pete was going to take anything he could get.

At least until Vegas was shaken back to his senses and remembered that he didn’t want Pete
anywhere near him anymore.
 The care that comes after
Chapter Notes

I had this chapter written and didn't want to wait so... y'all get another one. yay!

Vegas moaned, sucking on Pete’s lips as Pete’s shock drained right out of his body. When Pete
kissed his jaw, moving down to Vegas’ neck, he had to bite his lips to keep from saying Pete’s
name. He was desperate for Pete’s touch, but it hadn’t been so long that he was ready to abandon
all reason and call on Pete like a weak-kneed fool. It was enough that he was hard and aching and
keening right into Pete’s hands, as it was.

When Pete started fussing at Vegas’ belt, Vegas helped, trying his best to get out of his jeans just
so Pete could do whatever he wanted to do. Vegas hadn’t been abstaining. He’d been fucking other
men in the time since he’d stayed away from Pete. But none of them had managed to ignite this
feeling of helpless lust, to the point that Vegas was sure he’d lose his mind if Pete stopped
touching him.

And yet, even with how good it felt, there was a sharp, painful tugging at Vegas’ chest. Every time
he looked down at the man before him, Vegas wanted to cry. How he’d let himself be fooled into
falling for someone who saw him as nothing but means to an end. Pete had been so easy. He’d
been so accepting of everything Vegas was. He’d offered himself up on a platter.

Only because someone was threatening him. He’d come on to Vegas, because there was a gun to
his head. And Vegas had fallen for it, quickly and everlastingly, to the point that he couldn't
function if he didn’t talk to Pete in days.

And it had all been a lie.

Pete lied for a living. He’d knelt at that prisoner’s feet, feigned fear, pretended to be shocked and
made the man think that he was smarter.

Just as he’d done to Vegas. Just as he was probably doing to Vegas, at the moment. Maybe Vegas
had kissed him first, but how was he to know Pete hadn’t willingly pushed him to the point that he
couldn't’ hold back? How could he trust anything Pete did? But also, even with all that in mind,
how could he quit Pete?

Unable to stand the confusion, Vegas turned to his desk, hands quivering, fighting to control
himself. As his jeans pooled around his ankle, Pete stood behind him, kissing him on the neck,
unbuttoning Vegas’ shirt. He knew just how to touch Vegas. He knew how to make him ache with
want as he waited eagerly for every kiss on his neck, every lick on his shoulder. With his shirt
gone, Vegas’ back was exposed, open to the enemy.

If Pete was pretending, he was more deadly than Vegas knew. Because he sounded just as weak,
just as desperate, moaning in Vegas’ ear, urgently moving against him, his dick digging into the
small of Vegas’ back as he struggled to rid himself of clothing. Vegas couldn’t see his face. Didn’t
want to. But with the way Pete was whispering his name, touching him, lifting Vegas’ bent knee
onto the desk for better access as he spit in his hands to prep Vegas, Vegas had to believe that this
bit… this moment… was genuine.
Curious as he was to see, to witness Pete’s lust again, Vegas didn’t have it in himself to turn
around. He loved it when Pete touched him, when Pete pressed down on his back, putting Vegas
over the desk as he eased into him. This way, he could tell himself that it wasn’t Pete. That even
though he knew those soft hands, they weren’t Pete’s. That Vegas was with a client. Vegas was
anywhere else than where he currently was… with someone else than who he was with.

Opening up, loving every bit of it, Vegas bit his lips to keep from uttering the name that was dying
to fall from his mouth. He couldn't do that. Not now. Not anymore. It was bad enough that he was
whimpering against his own desk, his dick hard and dripping like he was seconds away from
cumming even though Pete hadn’t even yet gotten to his dick.

Stretched, as Pete moved in and out, friction biting and exciting Vegas as tears sprung to his eyes,
he held onto the desk. Maybe it was because it had been too long. Maybe because every other
partner had been mediocre at best, but with Pete, Vegas was beyond his understanding, unable to
know why his touch sparked such desire and broken need in Vegas. Even when Vegas knew that
he should know better.

As they rocked together, moaning against the desk, Vegas was trying his best to hold on to his
senses, but when Pete reached around to take hold of his dick, Vegas moaned, cumming in Pete’s
hand as he set a steady pace, moving Vegas between his dick and his hand as he hit the right spot,
just as Vegas’ dick slid into his welcoming palm.

“Oh god,” Vegas said, finally letting go of his bleeding lip. “Oh Pe-uhh!”

Pete fucked it right out of him, jerking him off till Vegas had nothing left. And still he continued,
fucking him, cumming in him in a quiet hiss as his hand tightened on both Vegas’ waist and his
dick.

In the static silence that followed, both their breaths were the only things that could be heard. With
the tension in his body easing out, Vegas wondered where to go. Whenever they fucked, they
tended to go multiple rounds, alternating between each other. But now, they’d both cum and Pete
didn’t seem to want to leave.

Vegas didn’t want him to leave.

He didn’t know how to say that. He didn’t want to say that. Pete wasn’t welcome in Vegas’ bed.
People he didn’t trust didn’t get into his bed.

Usually, they never showered till they had fucked for so long that Pete convinced Vegas to fall
asleep, while Pete spoke to him in soft, calm tones, stroking Vegas’ hair, till all he knew was the
sweet embrace of oblivion. His body had grown so accustomed to fucking Pete and receiving his
softness. Fucking Pete and being pampered like a sleepy child, not like the adult man who’d just
done very adult things.

In that moment, a part of him wished Pete would pull him towards the bed, get under the covers
and shush him till he fell asleep. He was so wrung out that he almost asked for it, almost turned
around to look at Pete and beg that Pete treat him as he’d always done.

Gently getting up from the desk, he pushed Pete away.

“I have to shower,” he said, as he made his way straight to the bathroom.

Too weak to stand, he sat in the mini-jacuzzi as the warm water filled in, wishing he’d let Pete
touch him some more. He pulled his knees close, hugging himself as the water rose and rose, slow
and pattering, a dry solace to his raging thoughts. When he heard the door to his room open and
close, he sighed, resting his head back on the marbled pavement. Because of course Pete wouldn’t
beg. He wouldn’t stoop so low. To him, Vegas was never worth the trouble anyway.

When the bathroom door opened, Vegas was too weak to react that all he could do was look up.
Everything faded away into nothingness as he stared into Pete’s eyes, as if for the first time. The
lying idiot hadn’t left. For all his smartness, he couldn’t take a hint and realize that Vegas didn’t
want him to be there.

“Tell me to go and I’ll go,” Pete said, standing there with his hand on the ajar door.

Vegas couldn't open his mouth. His entire body was frozen in place, fighting with itself to choose
which he wanted. But then again, that was nothing new when it came to Pete. There were always
two options. Vegas had known this since that first day at camp when Pete had eavesdropped on his
phone call.

Try as he might to put all the blame in Pete’s lap, Vegas had always had a choice. To see Pete or
not to see Pete. To want him or not to want him. To believe his lies or not to believe. Vegas had
made the choice, time and time again. Not that he’d done it blindly or ignorantly, no. He’d seen the
red flags but he’d chosen to love the color rather than run away.

Gently, as if afraid he’d spook a skittish animal, Pete closed the door while he kicked off his
sneakers. Tightening his hands around his knees, Vegas watched Pete take off his clothes and fold
them onto the basket in the corner, before he approached.

“May I?” he asked, just as he got to the jacuzzi.

For all the reasons in the world, Vegas didn’t understand why his head nodded slightly. Pete
seemed to take that as permission, stepping in and sitting with his shoulder to Vegas’ shoulder.

They’d never stayed this way before. Either Vegas was behind Pete or Pete was behind him. Or
one of them had their back to the wall while the other faced them, sitting in the other’s lap. But this
way? It felt awkward just sitting there with Pete by his side, as the pulsing water rose around them.

Sighing, Vegas dared to move a little closer. He didn’t think he was ready to be wrapped in Pete’s
arms just yet. But he could take a little bit of contact. So he dropped his head on Pete’s shoulder,
closing his eyes as the tension in his body he hadn’t even known was still there seeped right out.
Moaning at the feeling, he turned till his forehead was on Pete’s shoulder, inhaling Pete’s skin,
missing him even though he was right there.

“Can I…” Pete began. “Can I hold you?”

Vegas wanted it more than anything he could think of. He wished he didn’t. But his body had
learned to crave more than just sex from the man sitting stiffly beside him. When Pete turned
around, opening his arms, Vegas went to him, head resting on Pete’s chest as their legs got tangled
up together till Pete’s ended up above Vegas’, with Pete almost in Vegas’ lap.

And there it was. The feeling that everything was far away, outside the bathroom, beyond the
walls. Just the two of them, sitting in water, listening to nothing but each other’s heartbeats as
Vegas tried to let go, tried to find what it was he’d always had with Pete.

As his breathing calmed, with Pete gently stroking Vegas’ hair, he had no idea what was
happening, but a few minutes later, Vegas drifted off into oblivion.
 The power of a single number
Chapter Notes

long chapter because... guilty absence

Porsche’s heart pounded as he drove through town that evening, looking down at his phone every
minute, just to be sure that the tracking beacon was, indeed, still active. Something was wrong. He
could feel it the closer he got to the target. If he turned out to be wrong, he would gladly receive
whatever ridicule Vegas sent his way. If he was right… well, then he was going to have to use
those guns in the bag he’d carried.

Guns that he’d never used before. Guns that had been nothing but an idea, props for training,
plastic toys they’d played with as kids, not real, not useful. Not something Porsche was ever
supposed to come in real contact with. Touching the bag in the passenger’s seat, Porsche gulped
down his anxiety, shaken to his core by the fact that he was even considering firing a real gun.

The stretch of land surrounding the compound where Kinn’s tracker was, was huge. From the map,
he could see where the entrance lay to the main gate. But as he was heading to it, Porsche noticed a
hop in Kinn’s position. Maybe his network was lagging, but for some reason, Kinn’s tracker had
moved from the compound and into the bare clump of trees.

Clearing off to the side of the road, Porsche zoomed in to find Kinn’s mark making slow
progression away from the house and deeper into the forest. If Porsche kept driving to the main
entrance, he would miss Kinn entirely. When he looked at the tall trees that lay by the roadside, his
resolve wavered. It would be a long walk into the forest. He wondered if he should wait. He
wondered if it made sense to just follow Kinn’s trajectory till he got to this side of the forest.

Then again, there was the nagging feeling that something was wrong. If this was Kinn’s property,
then he was just on a leisurely walk through the throng of trees that he owned. But if it wasn’t… if
it wasn’t, then Kinn was probably running through the forest, trying to get away.

Porsche got out of the car, dragging the bag with him. He strapped on a harness, loaded two
handguns and slipped them into the harness on his waist. He wore a mask over his mouth and nose,
pulled on a pair of night vision goggles and took a few deep breaths. He was going to do this. No
going back.

Hoping to intercept Kinn, Porsche jogged into the forest. From where he was, he could see that he
was moving a lot faster than Kinn was. Ten minutes into his jog, Porsche stopped by a tree as he
heard movement. When he checked his phone, Kinn wasn’t as close as the voices that he could
hear, so he hid.

“...can’t just let him pass,” one of the men said.

There was scratching of radio static sounded.

“That’s what the boss said,” a voice from the radio said.

“Does that make sense?” one of the men in front of Porsche said.
When Porsche peeped out, there were two guards in uniform, crouched behind stacks of bagged
covers. They each had rifles in their hands and stools by their side. Judging from the kettle and
stove and supplies behind them, this was their regular station.

And they were waiting for someone.

“If we let him go, he’ll return to his people and come back for us.”

“ You heard the Councilman. Let him go.”

“But it’s Kinn Theerapanyakul,” the man said. “We could end it here. He’s weak and tired. One
bullet and we can claim we made a mistake.”

Porsche had heard enough.

He hit the guard speaking, in the back of his shoulder and ran forward to the mini campsite. By the
time the other guard turned around, Porsche took a small, metal cupboard from the floor and
rammed it into his head. As he fell, Porsche pointed his gun at the guard he’d shot. The man was
laid out on the ground, his hand over his bleeding shoulder.

“Which councilman do you work for?” Porsche asked.

“Go to hell,” the guard said.

He kneed the guard in the nose, sending him into unconsciousness.

He checked his tracker and Kinn was getting closer. As he was about to leave, the radio on the
floor buzzed.

“What was that?” Porsche picked up the radio. “Cover Six, do you read?”

“Fuck,” Porsche said, realizing that the loud gunshot wasn’t best for his situation. Which was
probably why he should have brought a silencer. “Porsche, you never forget the silencer.
Infiltration 101, you dumb ass.”

How many action movies had he been in that he’d forgotten something so simple? Now, every time
he fired any gun, he’d be giving away his position. Fuck!

“Cover Six, are you there?”

Tossing the radio away, Porsche continued towards Kinn. No need to dwell. He’d fucked up. Best
not to dally. Closer and closer he got, praying that the men had exaggerated. “He’s weak and
tired,” they’d said. Weak and tired? In the midst of guards who were ordered to “let him pass”?
What sort of sick game were they playing with Kinn?

When he heard more voices, he ducked out of the way, hiding behind a large tree trunk as a group
of armed guards came rushing, heading for the checkpoint Porsche had attacked. It was incredibly
lucky that he had, because then he would have missed the lonely silhouette of a man running, a few
yards over.

Kinn.

He was… he wasn’t even running. He was barely moving, his hands lax at his side as he struggled
to pull himself along. The guards had been right. Kinn wasn’t a difficult target to hit.

“They’re alive,” one of the guards who’d just passed Porsche said, as they got to the checkpoint.
“We can’t have any other witnesses except Kinn. Find the person who did this.”

“Yes sir.”

Porsche turned to the other side of the tree, watching in frustration as Kinn got further and further
away. It was dark and Kinn wasn’t wearing any goggles. He was just running in the dark, moving
like he was a few seconds away from dropping on the ground.

“Oh hell,” Porsche said, rushing out from behind the tree as he headed to intercept Kinn.

“There’s movement over there,” one of the guards yelled.

“Stop!” another joined in, but Porsche didn’t listen, heading straight for Kinn.

The men opened fire on Porsche as he jumped, tackling Kinn to the floor. Feeling Kinn struggle
against him, Porsche turned him around, keeping both of them lying low as he said, “Kinn it’s me.”

Breathing heavily, looking up at Porsche, Kinn blinked and flinched.

“Porsche?”

“Yes, it’s me. We have to go.”

“Wait,” Kinn said, pushing Porsche off his body as he sat up, pointed the gun in his hand and
opened fire on the guards.

As the guards took cover from Kinn’s shots, Porsche pulled him up, leading him away in the few
seconds of reprieve they’d gotten. Taking cover behind a tree, Porsche peeped out to see how far
they’d come as the guards slowly advanced. When Porsche fired, the guards halted, running back
to hide.

“Come on,” Porsche said, hooking Kinn’s hand over his shoulder as they rushed ahead.

“How are you… how are you here?” Kinn asked.

“We have to get to my car.”

When the guards started firing, Porsche moved Kinn behind another tree.

“They’re gaining on us.”

“How far away is your car?”

Porsche frowned. “About a ten minute run?”

“Fuck me,” Kinn said, resting his head against the tree.

“See that clearing over there?” Porsche asked, pointing at the bald patch of earth a few yards
ahead. “We’re going to have to run across.”

“With no trees for cover? We’ll be target practice.”

“We can’t go around it. The longer we take, the quicker we’ll get surrounded.”

“Oh,” Kinn said, breathing heavily as his knees gave out beneath him.

“What did they do to you?” Porsche held him up.

“I’ll be fine.”

When Porsche touched Kinn’s forehead, he pulled away at the hotness of Kinn’s skin.

“What the fuck?”

“It’s nothing. It’s just a rut.”

There was no way they were making it out. The one thing Porsche hadn’t anticipated was having
Kinn in a rut, this weak and unable to defend himself or move. Porsche wanted to smack himself in
the head. The kidnappers were going to let Kinn go. It was all a part of whatever fucked up plan
they’d concocted. But with Porsche's interference, they were now being hunted. And Kinn could
barely move.

Porsche leaned out, crouching to the ground as he aimed at the two men closest to them. In quick
succession, he got them in the knees. This stopped the others in their tracks, giving Porsche time to
move to the other side of his tree as he aimed at three more men. He managed to get the first one,
but the other two hid.

“Did you come alone?” Kinn asked.

Before Porsche could answer, they were bombarded with the loudness of a chopper’s propellers
and engine, hovering over their heads. There was no hiding from it as the chopper’s lights flooded
the area, giving away Porsche’s and Kinn’s position.

“Stay down,” Porsche said, leaning over Kinn as Kinn held on to his gun.

“I’m not going back there, Porsche,” Kinn said, shaking his head.

“Stay calm. It will be alright.”

Porsche lifted his gun to the chopper. If he could take out their lights, then-

He saw a man leaning out from the chopper with a rifle. But he wasn’t pointing at Kinn and
Porsche. He fired on the guards, taking out all the remaining men who were after them, much to
Porsche’s confusion.

Porsche’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He wanted to ignore it as he watched the chopper lower
itself onto the clearing they’d been planning to run across. But he answered it anyway.

“Now is not the time.”

“Get in the chopper, Porsche.”

Porsche checked the caller ID.

“Tod?”

“Thank you later. Move now!”

Two men got off the chopper, heading straight for Porsche with military swiftness and precision.
As soon as they got to them, they lifted Kinn up, taking his weight between the both of them, as
Porsche followed behind, covering their backs.

After Kinn was lifted in, Porsche entered, coming face-to-face with Tod who was sitting at the
center of the opposite seat with his hands clasped in his lap.
“I thought you only did this in front of the big screen,” Tod said.

“How did you know where I was?”

Tod smiled as the pilot lifted them out of the clearing. Porsche was about to repeat his question
when Kinn slipped off the seat.

Porsche pulled Kinn into his arms, while Tod’s men fired down on the guards. Kinn was getting
hotter and hotter, sitting on the floor, between Porsche’s legs as he clung to Porsche’s calves and
hands like his life depended on it.

“Is he alright?” Tod asked.

Kinn groaned.

Porsche didn’t understand. He’d been in a handful of ruts, since his first time. It was unpleasant, at
best. Yeah, he’d had headaches and body pains and the compulsion to cum had been irritating, but
he’d never run a fever as high as what Kinn was exhibiting, or writhed in pain like his body was
covered in pins and needles.

“What did they do to him?” Tod asked.

Porsche didn’t answer. He couldn’t bring himself to voice his assumptions. He couldn’t understand
why Kinn was in so much pain, but there were a few things that were adding up to things that
Porsche was too afraid to face. Kinn didn’t even have to tell Porsche for him to put two together
and figure out what had… what might have happened.

He’d seen the bandages on Kinn’s wrist. One of them tore and he’d seen the cuts inside his wrist.
Not outside. Not visible at the back of his hand. On the inside. He’d been fitted and made up for
kidnapping scenes. He knew what it meant to have certain injuries.

The deep, angular cuts in his wrist were reminiscent of cuff marks from a man who’d fought
against the binds, trying to go free. In his mind’s eye, Porsche could see Kinn, struggling to get
free, pulling so hard that the cuffs carved themselves into his skin.

On the inside of his wrist.

If his hands were cuffed together, the injuries would be on the outside, when he pulled down, or
pulled closer to himself, the metal would have dug into the outside. But if they were inside then…
it could only mean that Kinn’s hands were cuffed apart. Far apart enough that he could only pull
forward to go free. Pull forward enough for the cuffs to cut the inside of his wrists.

Porsche didn’t know everything. What he did know was that -

1. Someone kidnapped Porsche.

2. Someone forced him into a rut.
3. Someone cuffed his hands apart.
4. He was in more pain than was normal.

Kinn’s head lulled into Porsche’s lap as his teeth extended, peeping through his lips.

Inhaling in shock, Tod pulled away from Kinn as one of his men got up from the corner, allowing
Tod more space from Kinn.

“Fucking hell,” Tod said, covering his mouth. “Oh god.” He looked outside the window like he
was considering not being in the chopper with them anymore. “He’s rutting.”

“He’s in pain,” Porsche said, not knowing what to do to help. “I didn’t know ruts could be this
painful.”

“He’s been exposed to an omega,” Tod replied. “Rutting alphas react this way when they’ve
scented an omega that they cannot fuck. Fuck!”

Porsche wanted to throw up. Gulping, afraid of what he might find, his fingers slipped beneath
Kinn’s shirt, touching his skin, feeling for bite marks, wondering if he would be able to take it if an
omega had bitten him. To his greatest joy, there was no mark under his shirt, or on his neck.

“We need to help him.”

“Don’t fucking look at me,” Tod said, eyes wide in fear.

“I’m not…” Porsche hesitated, remembering that Tod was an omega. “I’m not asking you to
offer.”

“You better the fuck not.”

Pulling Kinn closer, he looked outside, taking in the dark night as street lights below lighted their
way into town.

“How far away are we from the hospital?”

“How far away are we?” Tod asked the pilot.

“E.T.A twenty minutes,” the pilot replied.

Porsche couldn’t leave Kinn to wait that long. Kinn was in so much pain and Porsche couldn’t help
him… or could he? Kinn was an alpha, and yeah, Porsche was also an alpha. But that just meant
that he could offer Kinn something that an omega couldn’t offer. It wouldn’t solve everything, but
it would be a distraction, a momentary balm to hold till they got to the hospital. Porsche could take
it. He could withstand it. He’d never had someone do it to him, but he remembered what it felt like
to do it to someone and it had granted him so much relief that he couldn’t help but offer the same
to Kinn.

“Sit up,” he said, pulling Kinn up as Kinn moaned with every bit of movement. “Come on, bite
me.”

“What?” Tod asked.

“Kinn, open your eyes.” He put his arm before Kinn, cradling him close. “Come on.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Tod asked.

Kinn roused, holding Porsche’s hand to his mouth.

“Porsche, don’t-” Tod started to say as Kinn bit into Porsche’s flesh. “You fucking lunatic.”

Moaning, waking, sitting up, Kinn dug right in as Porsche flinched, pain shooting right from his
hand and spreading all over his body. Closing his eyes, he leaned back, allowing Kinn to sate
himself on Porsche’s body, because he knew Kinn was not in his right mind.

It went on for a while, with Kinn pressing deeper every time Porsche’s body began to acclimate to
the pain, like his instincts were getting their pumps from causing Porsche the maximum amount of
pain possible at every given second. Clenching his other fist into Kinn’s shirt, Porsche waited.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Tod asked, watching Porsche with a worried frown.

“The bite isn’t permanent.” Porsche said.

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

Clenching his fingers into Kinn’s shoulder, Porsche adjusted them again.

“How did you find me?” Porsche asked, trying to change the subject. He needed to distract himself
because the longer Kinn held on, the deeper the pain felt.

Tod twirled his phone in his hand as he offered no reply.

“How did you know I was in trouble?”

“Shouldn’t you just be glad that I did?”

“Tod!” Porsche chided.

“I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Did you bug me?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Am I under surveillance?”

Tod looked away, idly pressing his finger against the glass.

“All this time,” he said. “I’d been thinking Pete was my competition. Turns out, your boyfriend's a
fellow alpha.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

He frowned at Porsche.

“No?” he asked. “The bite is something you would offer just any alpha?”

“It’s none of your business.”

Kinn’s grip on Porsche’s hand lessened as he snored lightly.

With the propellers rattling outside the chopper, Porsche held Tod’s piercing gazing, realizing that
for once Tod wasn’t smiling about anything. He was looking right back at Porsche. Meeting his
eyes with equal resolve, like Porsche ought to owe him something.

Porsche wondered what that was about. Tod never answered. He never said. He just showed up
whenever he wanted, like a roach with a million lifetimes. Their stare went on for so long that
Porsche began to consider looking away. But then Tod looked away first.

“We’re here,” he said, as they began their descent to the helipad on top of the Theerapnayakul
main family mansion.

There were a bunch of nurses, a doctor and stretcher waiting for them. As soon as the doors
opened, Tod’s guards lifted Kinn from the floor as they moved him out of the chopper and onto the
stretcher. When Porsche got down, Tod caught him by the arm.

“It’s the phone number I gave you.”

“What?” Porsche asked.

“It’s a beacon.” He let go of Porsche, now that he had Porsche’s attention. “That’s why I give
different numbers to different people. It helps me keep track.”

“Keep track?” Porsche sneered. “Like we’re tagged cattle?”

He scoffed. “More like essential commodities.”

“Commodities?” Porsche repeated, raising his head to the sky as he fought to understand Tod’s
audacity. “You are the absolute worst.”

A dark, wounded look crossed Tod’s face as his smirk disappeared.

“That very well may be, Porsche. But I’m the one who just saved you and your boyfriend from god
only knows what they were going to do to you.”

Porsche shook his head, trying to repress the tiny guilty regret that reared its head at Tod’s words.

“It’s your choice,” he said. “If you never want to hear from me again, delete it.”

Before Porsche could reply, he leaned back into the chopper as his men shut the door and the pilot
raised the chopper into the sky.

Porsche wished he didn’t know. He wished he didn’t find out. He wished he hadn’t asked. Because
now he had to make a choice. He hated that Tod was a looming, leering presence over his life. But
if that presence hadn’t been there, Kinn would still be…

Porsche pulled out his phone and went into his contacts, scrolling till he found Tod’s number.

It had to be more than a beacon. Tod was a tech guy. He could have done anything to a number
that became a beacon, just by being in someone’s contacts. Maybe it monitored Porsche’s heart
rate. Maybe it recorded his conversations. Maybe it gave Tod access to Porsche’s camera roll. The
possibilities were endless.

They had to be. How else would Tod have known to come to that exact spot, at that exact time?

He’d never thought anyone could touch a Theerapanyakul. And yet, someone had taken Kinn from
his bodyguards. They’d fired upon Kinn when they were escaping and hadn’t relented until Tod
made them fall back.

He didn’t want to, but Porsche slowly came to the realization that a day might come again when he
was in real big trouble, and no Theerapanyakul would be able to save him.

So, as he’d known he would, Porsche quietly slid his phone back into his pocket and decided to
leave it at that.
 The son, like his mother

There was always the possibility that Kinn may have judged Awut a bit too harshly. Kinn had
never gone through a rut without an omega. If he was between relationships, there were services
available for alphas in need of omega partners. It was never negotiable to spend the rut without
mouth guards. He didn’t want any omega biting him, same as he wasn’t planning to bite any
omega. So he got sated and did only things that would never have permanent, lasting effects on
himself or his partners.

Which meant that, in his entire life, Kinn had never bitten anyone before.

But now, with the memory of Porsche's delicate flesh giving way to Kinn’s penetrating mating
teeth, the feeling of euphoria that rushed to his brain as Porsche’s blood seeped into Kinn’s body,
an almost endless exchange of possibilities… Kinn could understand why Awut hadn’t been able
to help himself.

Touching his lips as he lay in bed, in the seclusion unit that the hospital had put him in, Kinn kept
playing the hazy memory over and over in his head, trying to hang on to the feeling of the bite,
trying to hang on to Porsche. He’d already masturbated thinking about it, about five times that day
alone. His knot was popping smaller and smaller, each time. His rut was finally coming to an end.

But the memory lingered.

He’d just come out of yet another shower when there was a knock at his room door. Hoping that it
would be Porsche, Kinn was immensely disappointed when his father walked in.

The glass screens the hospital set up cordoned off the sofa and the door, giving him room for
visitors. He could see them and they could see him. But their scent was cut off, as well as their
voices. With a fitted speaker and mic on either side of the glass screen, they could, at least, talk.

Not that Kinn wanted to speak to, or see his father, at the moment.

“I see you’re doing fine,” Papa said.

“Why did you do it?” Kinn asked, getting straight to the point.

Papa’s face remained the same, a slight tilt and a small frown that he’d worn since he entered the
room.

“It was for your own good.” He didn’t bother to deny it.

“You let Apinya lock me up for my own good?” Kinn didn’t want to raise his voice at Papa.
“Please explain yourself.”

“I shouldn’t have to.”

“Papa,” Kinn said sternly.

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Papa asked.

Usually, this was the point in the conversation where Kinn would have backed down. But he
needed to know. He needed to understand why his father would sell him out to someone else. This
was the type of shit even Uncle Kun had never done. All the things he’d made Vegas do, none of it
had ever been so permanent that it would affect Vegas’ life the way Kinn’s would have been
affected if one wrong move had led to Tawan biting Kinn.

“I am talking to my father.”

“As your father-”

“How can you trust me to lead this family if you pull stunts like this?” Kinn asked. “Why did you
do it?”

Papa sat, his eyes filled with contemplation. Kinn had seen that look for years. He knew when his
father was running the numbers, weighing the pros and cons. He wondered what would matter
more to his father: Kinn’s understanding or Kinn’s obedience.

“I see where you’re headed and I’m worried about you.”

“What does that mean, Papa?”

“Porsche, Kinn,” Papa said. “I’m talking about that boy that has you wrapped around his finger. It
will never end well with you.”

Confused, Kinn leaned on the wall, hoping it would take the weight off his mind.

“What does Porsche have to do with it? You asked me to marry Tawan and I-”

“You were never going to marry Tawan unless it was made permanent. Not as long as Porsche is in
your life.”

“You don’t know that," Kinn said. "Is it because he's not an omega?"

“That's the least of my concerns."

"Then what is it?" Kinn asked, frustration coloring his words.

"Porsche is his mother’s son. At the end of the day, he will ultimately make the same decision she
made and then what?”

What little confusion Kinn had before grew. What did Porsche have to do with Tawan? And what
did Aunty Nam have to do with Porsche's relationship with Kinn?

“Nampheung and Kun were in love when we were in college. They were going to change the
financial eco-system of Thailand when they graduated. He was reading business law, she was in
accounting.” Papa let out a sad laugh as his eyes drifted to the ceiling. “We could never hang out
without them breaking into some diatribe about the future.”

Kinn and the other kids often speculated on the level of intimacy Aunty Nam shared with their
parents. She knew things about Kinn’s parents and his uncle. Things that mere acquaintances
didn’t know. Things that anyone not on the Theerapanyakul payroll would be killed for knowing.

Not to mention the amount of shit Papa and Uncle Kun let Aunty Nam and her kids get away with.

“Kun didn’t want to be in the family business, but he was an obedient son. He never told her, but
when he had a job from Papa, he took it. When she found out, she got so mad. She was meant to be
in Japan for only one year of inter-min study. But the year turned into two, and two turned into
four. Before we knew it, it was eleven years later and she was returning to Bangkok with a six year
old son and a husband that none of us knew about.”
“What does this have to do with me?”

“Porsche will never accept this part of you,” Papa said. “You will get your hands dirty. You will
do things he can’t stomach and he will leave.”

“No he won’t. I saw him shoot people.”

“To protect you. Do you know what Nam did when she found out some architecture boys had
roughed up Kun?” Papa asked. “She trashed their common room and set fire to the auditorium.
While there were people inside!”

Kinn hadn’t known that.

“She has a hotter temper than Lydia, but that temper only extends as far as protecting those she
loves. Porsche isn’t different.”

“I don’t want him to be.”

“He’s a human rights activist and you're the alpha of a crime syndicate. That relationship was
doused with gasoline from the start. One little match and disaster will strike,” Korn said, his voice
shaking with emotion. “I have seen my brother change. I watched him become a shell of anger and
remorseless rage, the longer Nam was gone from our lives. She may have known what he was, but
she stopped being his the moment she saw him snap someone’s neck. Right now, Porsche is still
viewing you with tainted goggles and I’m sure I’m the bad guy.”

“No-” Kinn tried to say but Papa got up.

“I’m the one making you do bad things,” he said, his voice brimming with aggressive fire. “I’m the
evil father who is poisoning dear, innocent Kinn, but the day will come when Porsche will see. The
day will come when he will leave you.” He stopped talking, his chest heaving rapidly. “But that
won't happen if you’re mated to an omega, Kinn.”

“I don’t want that.”

“An omega mate will not leave you. An omega mate will not break your heart. An omega is what
you always wanted.”

“I don’t want that anymore.”

“Can’t you see that I’m trying to protect you?”

Before Kinn could reply, there was a knock at the door. Both Kinn and Papa looked in the
direction as it opened. Even though Kinn had spent hours wishing to see Porsche, he couldn’t help
the uncertain dread that weighed down his belly the moment Porsche walked into the room and the
two of them locked eyes.

“Ah, Porsche,” Papa said, his voice completely void of the heavy emotion it had carried just mere
seconds prior. “You’re here.” Papa cleared his voice as Porsche walked in.

“Uncle Korn,” Porsche bowed slightly, his hands clasped in front of him as Papa patted him on the
back.

“How’s your father?”

“He’s doing fine.”

“And my Nam?”

Porsche laughed. “She’s fine too.”

“Good, good,” he said, nodding. “Greet them for me when you see them. Eh?”

“I will.”

Sparing Kinn one last look of worry and mild anger, Papa walked out, closing the door gently
behind him.

Kinn didn’t know what to say or where to look. Papa’s conversation kept replaying in his head,
jumbling itself with the last conversation Kinn had had with Porsche. Before Papa’s visit, Kinn had
his mind ready to face Porsche. To say what needed to be said between them. To have another
mature conversation that, this time, might yield positive results.

But now, Papa had thrown all that into chaos.

This relationship was doused with gasoline from the start.

Papa wasn’t even wrong. Porsche had already walked away from Kinn before. But that was only
because Kinn had been a fool. He knew better now. He knew what Porsche wanted. Kinn was
willing. Kinn would do. Kinn would be. Just as long as Porsche stayed by his side. This was
different. He wasn’t Uncle Kun and Porsche was not his mother.

Porsche dropped his keys and phone on the stand as he sat in the spot where Papa had just vacated,
gingerly perched, with his knees apart as he rested his elbows on them.

“How’s rehearsal going?” Kinn asked, to break the ice.

“Is that what you want to talk about now?” Porsche asked instead of answering.

Kinn licked his lips as he shook his head. “Not really.”

“Do you know who took you?” Porsche sighed, rubbing his head in his hands. “I know I have no
right to ask, considering the last conversation we had but-”

“We can pretend that conversation never happened,” Kinn said immediately as he sat up in his
hospital bed. Because they were going somewhere. Porsche had come to save him. He didn't want
Porsche to think he… he didn’t want Porsche to… if he could, Kinn would have gone back in time
to wipe that entire conversation from existence. “If you want,” he said. “We can just forget it.”

Porsche looked at Kinn, sadness in his eyes. “That easy, huh?”

Kinn’s stomach growled in uncertainty. It wasn’t enough that Kinn had evidence that Porsche
could and would leave him if he fucked up. But his father’s words just kept playing. Over. And
over. And over.

“I’m not saying it’s easy, I’m just… I have other things to worry about now.”

“Do you know who did it?”

Porsche was like a dog with a bone, sometimes. They were going to keep going around and around
in circles and honestly, Kinn would much rather talk about this than go back to that conversation.

“Tawan’s father.”
Porsche’s forehead creased in slight frown as he stared up at the ceiling.

“Tawan?” he asked. “Why is that name familiar?”

“The omega Papa wants me to marry.”

“His father-” Porsche cut himself off. “Fuck!” He got up, placing his hands on his hips as he paced
the small space between the seclusion glass and the sofa. “You do know you’re not marrying him
after this, right? Just wait till Phi-Tankhun-”

“Tawan didn’t do anything.”

“Please be serious.”

“His father was the one who kidnapped me. Look at me,” he said, as he crawled over the bed to get
closer to Porsche. “Don’t tell Phi-Tankhun about this.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Porsche-”

“I know what he did to you, Kinn.”

“He didn’t even know what he was doing.”

Kinn held his breath, watching the ease in Porsche’s posture slowly drain away as his shoulders
tensed and the worry on his face morphed into narrowed, draining anger.

“Let me get this straight. You were tied up and in a rut. His father brought in an omega in heat and
left him there, knowing what would happen.”

“It wasn’t his fault.”

“Oh really? Was he tied up too?” Porsche asked.

“No, But-”

“So you were the only one who was tied up and he got to do whatever the fuck he wanted to-”

“Stop,” Kinn said, feeling bile rise up in his throat. “Stop it now. I know what you’re trying to
insinuate.”

“I am not insinuating. I am stating very clearly that you will not marry the man who raped you.”

Kinn’s bold chilled all over at those words as any reply he may have had died on his tongue. He’d
been here before. They’d been here before and he was so fucking tired of it.

“I know you think you’re helping by trying to rid me of any responsibility, but I assure you, I am
not a victim.”

“Bullshit!”

“You weren’t there. You don’t know what we went through.”

“You mean what you went through.”

“Sometimes, some things just… they just happen and we have no control.”
“I can’t listen to this,” Porsche said, picking up his phone and keys as he headed for the door.

The day will come when he will leave you.

Kinn’s entire being burned with fear he’d never known. Moving across the bed, Kinn crawled
towards the door, saying, “What are you doing?”

By the time Porsche’s hand got to the door, Kinn’s heart was pounding in desperation.

“Okay, fine,” he said. “Fine. I won’t marry him. Please don’t go.”

Porsche slammed the door back as Kinn flinched.

“Do you think that’s what this is about, Kinn?” Porsche asked. “I don’t give a fuck who you
marry?”

“Please, don’t say that,” he pleaded, getting off the bed and going to the glass screen.

“You did this with Awut, for years,” Porsche said, facing him. “Every time he had a rut, you’d
spend the week in my house just so you wouldn’t have to go home and explain why there were
fresh bite marks on your neck.”

“That was-”

“Exactly the same thing you’re doing now.”

“I’m not excusing him, Porsche. He was just as powerless as I was.”

“Then why didn’t he bite you?”

Kinn’s brain stuttered to a halt. “What?”

Porsche folded his arms across his chest. “You said he was out of his mind. He was in heat. You
were rutting. Pheromones were all over the place so what the fuck stopped him from biting you?
Because it sure as hell wasn’t you if you were cuffed and served up on a fucking platter?”

He hadn’t thought about that. Then again, there were a thousand other things he hadn’t thought
about in the past 24 hours. He was recovering from the fever and the rut, but his mind was still a
little foggy. He hadn’t exactly had enough time to think about it.

Yet, even as he thought about it, he couldn’t make sense of it. He could remember what Tawan had
felt like, how he’d looked, his eyes lidded with desire and nothing else, unable to comprehend the
precarious position he had put them both in when he climbed into Kinn’s lap. There’d been
nothing there but an innate need to mate. He’d kissed Kinn, touched his dick, fucked him, taken his
knot, done everything… except the actual mating.

Kinn had been right there for the taking. More instinctive, more primal than the need to fuck, was
an omega or alpha’s need to bite.

But that hadn’t happened.

“Why?” Kinn asked himself out loud.

“What did he want from you?” Porsche asked, looking uncertain as the fire in his eyes dimmed just
a little. “Tawan’s father.”
Kinn tried to remember his last conversation with the councilman.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight until you and Tawan have bitten each other,” Kinn said, word
for word as the creepiness of that promise sent renewed chills down his back.

“Is that what he said?” Porsche asked.

“Right before he drugged me in his car.”

“That’s weird. If he wasn’t going to let you go until you got bitten, then why did he let you go if
that didn’t happen?”

“He didn’t let me go. I escaped.”

Porsche shook his head, deep in thought. “He let you go. I heard the guards talking about it. They
were supposed to stand aside and let you pass.”

“But they fired upon us.”

“They were firing on me, Kinn. Until I showed up, they were clearing the way for you, practically
herding you towards the main road.”

Kinn sat back on his bed, realizing that Porsche was right. He’d thought he was being stealth
enough, evading the guards, hiding in the nick of time, as he made his way out of the compound.
He’d been weak in every inch of his body, but he’d prevailed. And he’d thought it was because he
was doing good. But it made more sense that trained guards would have found him long before he
got out of that forest. They should have found him much sooner.

Unless they’d let him go.

“Why?” he asked again, unable to comprehend it. “What did that accomplish?”

Try as he might, Kinn wracked his brain looking for an answer.

But still, nothing could come of his unpleasant stint in Tawan’s house. Or the nefarious intentions
of ex-fiancé and his ex-future father-in-law.
 the thing with kinn and pete
Chapter Notes

It's been mentioned before in previous chapters, but I feel I need to put some people's
worries to rest:

Male omegas cannot bear children in this universe.

Even after Vegas left the bathroom, Pete sat naked on the jacuzzi pavement. They hadn't talked.
They'd stayed in silence, slept, woken up, leaned against each other, till Vegas made the first move
to leave. And now, Pete was scared that it was all over. Once he walked out of the bathroom, he'd
have to leave, and once he left, he didn't know if Vegas would let him come back again.

Pete had rehearsals. He had to go to work in the morning. Sleeping over at Vegas' was probably the
best idea that existed, but he didn't want to push. He'd pushed when he had ulterior motives. He'd
asked to visit. He'd followed Vegas all the way here. If Vegas wanted this, after everything, it had
to be Vegas who made the moves.

Hard as it was to admit, Pete knew he had to take a step back.

Vegas was a hard man, but he was also funny and smart and indulgent. It wasn't Pete's fault that
he'd fallen in love with a mob boss. A boss who was so very worth it. At least, when he wasn't
pulling people's toenails from their feet. But, at the same time, Vegas was in pain.

And he needed time.

Pete got dressed in the bathroom and by the time he got out, Vegas was seated at his desk, still in
his lemon-green bathrobe, his legs folded into the chair as he stared at his laptop. Since he was in
his seat, with his back to the wall, Pete couldn't see the screen.

"Uh..." he began. "I'm going back to camp."

Vegas looked at him.

"Rehearsal is in the morning. Don't want to bank on traffic."

Vegas pursed his lips, still staring at Pete intently.

"Okay, then," Pete said.

He grabbed his phone and keys and headed for the door.

"Pete?"

"Yeah," he said, turning back immediately.

Vegas licked his lips nervously as he blinked at Pete. Then he said, "I guess... I guess I'll see you
around."

Pete couldn’t help the amount of sheer joy that spread through his body at those words. I'll see you
around . Easy words to utter that felt like a lifetime promise to Pete's ears. Vegas wanted to see him
around. Vegas wasn't done with him. There was hope. He could come back. He could... see Vegas
around.

"Okay," he agreed. A smile broke on his face as he spoke.

He'd been so worried that this would be the last time that Pete hadn't taken the time to enjoy every
moment he could with Vegas. Fraught with fear, he'd counted every second, like a starving child
about to run out of food.

As he drove back to Graham Blitz, Pete revisited those moments, seeing them anew, witnessing
them in fresh, bright lighting that wasn't darkened by the fear of finality.

I'll see you around , Vegas had said. A blessing that Pete knew he didn't deserve.

***

The next day, Porsche missed workout, breakfast and the first few scenes. But that was okay
because neither Beon nor Niran were in those scenes. Pete didn't even need to ask to know that
Porsche had spent the night with Kinn. What a coincidence that it happened just as Pete and Vegas
fucked again. They'd been cuddling a lot, in the absence of the people they really wanted to be with
and now, Porsche was probably back with Kinn. And maybe his situation wasn't as tentative as
Pete's was with Vegas. If Porsche was spending the night, maybe they were properly back together
and Porsche was healing again. Maybe Pete was about to be left behind, with no misery-fellow to
keep him company.

Pete tried really hard not to be jealous about that.

"For god sake, Niran," the director said, looking directly at Pete. "Where is your fucking Beon?"

"I'm here!" Porsche yelled from the door as he rushed in, dropping his bag in Toss' lap as he made
his way through the crew and support staff, till he got past the screen and had to wade through
actors, to the center of rehearsal. "I'm here. I'm sorry."

The director rolled his eyes as he waved his hand for Porsche to begin the scene he shared with
Tem, The Emperor.

In a palace rife with murder and betrayal, Emperor Ritnen's suspicion of everyone had grown to the
point of abuse, where close confidants such as his most prized omega, Beon, was faced with
constant rage, violence and accusations.

Watching Porsche bend to Tem's will was an incredible bit of progress from the first few weeks
where Porsche had struggled with submission. Pete had tried to help him work through it, and now
he knew why. Porsche was an alpha. A privileged rich boy who'd never taken an omega role in his
life. He'd never had to put himself in the place of the very people his activism cared about. It was
all new to him.

But Porsche was learning. He was fluid on the stage, bowing to Tem, pleading with him, leaning
against make-shift furniture seductively.

The director had struck gold. He'd hired Porsche for his name, but now he had the added bonus of
getting a damn good Beon.

When Porsche was done with his scene, he rushed to Pete's side, falling into Pete's lap, sweaty and
icky.
"Sorry I was late."

"At least you made it."

Turning on his side, but keeping his head in Pete's lap, Porsche watched the rehearsal.

Pete's mind roamed while he played with Porsche's hair. His body sat in the rehearsal room, but
Pete's mind and soul remained in Vegas' home, Vegas' jacuzzi, silent and still, as they leaned
against each other. It had been enough, just to be there, but knowing that Vegas had let him, Vegas
hadn't rejected him, was a balm to Pete's soul that he hadn't known he needed.

"Hunh," Porsche said, quietly, drawing Pete back to the present.

Tem and Time were still in the scene, but something was different.

Because Tem wasn't perched on his make-shift bed, like he always was when he was in a scene
with Time. Unlike a relationship between omegas that was always done by having two
hypersexualised omegas, when it came to depictions of alphaxalpha pairings, it was an unspoken
rule that traditional roles were established. For the actors' sake as well as the audience. One alpha
was The Alpha, while the other alpha was... for a better term... less of an alpha. And for as long as
they'd been rehearsing, the emperor was always the latter. With Beon, he was the alpha, the man,
the one in charge. But with his bodyguard, the emperor took on a more submissive role.

"The emperor is different," Pete said.

"Yep," Porsche agreed.

Now that Pete thought about it, the director hadn't been showing the alpha scenes since Pete got
back. He'd assumed they were working on it in private. After all, the director had private rehearsals
with Pete and Porsche. It wasn't strange that he was doing the same with the alphas.

But this? This was a whole new level of different.

Together, they watched the emperor play the role of an alpha, the same as he'd done when he was
with Beon. His voice didn't lilt, his shoulders didn’t slant, and his hips weren't swayed. And as they
spoke to each other, voices loud and steady in the way stage voices were supposed to be "quiet"
and intimate, Pete felt the tension build. Not like it used to be before, where they walked to each
other, only to reach just before the curtains closed. This time, both alphas watched each other,
chests heaving in anticipation of a kiss that was written in the book but would never be played on
stage. Why? Because no one wanted to see two alphas kiss each other.

Still, closer and closer, they walked, speaking low, drawing each other in, till the very last line of
dialogue.

"I'm right here, Your Majesty," the guard said. "Take what you want."

When Tem kissed Time, Pete's heart leapt out of his chest as he sat up in shock. Beside him,
Porsche sat up as well, gasping loudly.

"Ok," the director said. "Cut. We're still working on the sex scene so let's stop here."

"What sex scene?" Porsche asked, as Time and Tem walked off the stage, allowing the next scene
to begin.

As Tem was passing, Porsche pulled him down to sit by him and Pete.
"What the fuck?" Porsche asked, as Pete leaned closer to hear. "A kiss? A sex scene? Since when?"

Tem laughed.

"The director's been making some changes, is all," he said with a shrug.

"So there's an actual sex scene?" Pete asked. "Like the one with Porsche and I?"

"Like the one in the book."

"Pssh," Porsche said. "A bunch of books have alpha sex scenes but director's just ignore them."

"Not this time."

"But why?" Pete asked, unable to understand it.

"The posters of Phi-Time and I came out and changed the director's vision for the emperor and the
guard." He looked towards Time. "I have to go."

As he tried to stand, Porsche held him down.

"So who's top and who's bottom now?"

Tem's eyebrow rose as he smiled sardonically.

"What a progressive question?"

Porsche sputtered, as Pete held back a laugh.

"You're having a sex scene," Porsche eventually said. "Someone has to go in and someone has to
be... gone... into."

"I guess you'll just have to wait and see," Tem said, smiling dubiously as he quickly crawled in
Time's direction.

"I hate you," Porsche called after him."

"Shush!" the director harshly said, looking in their direction as Porsche and Pete quietly sat back to
watch the rest of rehearsal.

***

"I still think Time will top Tem," Porsche said from the room as Pete brushed his mouth that night.
He was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, shirtless. His scars were still visible, but some of
them were clearing. Very slowly.

"Who cares who tops?" Pete asked.

"I think Phi-Tay had something to do with it. The director is smitten. Did you see how he was
listening to Phi-Tay during the photoshoot? Tell me he didn't whisper "alpha sex scene" into the
director's ears and make that man change his entire worldview. I dare you."

Pete spat, rinsed his brush and came out, just in time to see Porsche pulling on a long sleeve shirt.

"I think an alpha sex scene would be nice."

"Nice?" Porsche asked. "An alpha sex scene would be the bomb." He frowned. "They might even
overshadow our sex scene." He looked up at the ceiling, a dirty dreamy look on his face.

Pete shook his head as he got into bed.

"Stop picturing your friend having sex, Porsche. It's creepy."

"No, no," Porsche said, waving his hands as the sleeves of his shirt fell back, revealing his forearm.
"I'm not thinking of my friend having sex. I'm picturing the emperor fucking his bodyguard.
There's a big difference."

"What's that?" Pete gestured at the bandage on Porsche's left arm.

"Oh, um." Porsche quickly put his arm down as he pulled the sleeves back into place. "Nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing," Pete said, shuffling towards Porsche's bed as Porsche moved away,
dragging the sleeves down, past his finger tips.

Pete's stomach churned at images that flew into his mind, as he watched Porsche. He didn't want to
press beyond the boundary Porsche was currently setting, but he couldn't ignore it. Without being
told, Pete was sure this had something to do with Kinn. With that knowledge, the dread grew. Kinn
was controlling. But Porsche had disobeyed and left. And now, a week later, Porsche returned from
spending the night away, with a bandage on his arm.

Did Kinn grab him so hard he hurt? Did he cut Porsche? Did he hit Porsche, while Porsche was
trying to protect himself with his forearm? And if any of that was true, did Porsche choose to stay
with him, given how he was hiding the injury?

Pete had to know because, first thing in the morning, he was going to go find Kinn and give him a
piece of his mind. But first, he had to make sure.

Pete lunged at Porsche, grabbing him from behind and pressing him down to the bed as he took
Porsches hand.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

When Pete tried to open the sleeve, Porsche pushed him off, turning around and rolling them both
off the bed. Fortunately, Porsche landed on his back, and Pete took the advantage, grabbing the
arm again as he ripped off the bandage.

The sight was nothing Pete could have ever predicted. Shocked to the spot, Pete wasn't ready when
Porsche smacked him across the face and he fell off.

"What the fuck?" Porsche screamed, crawling away from Pete and putting his bed between the
both of them.

"Was it Kinn?" Pete asked, even as his ears were ringing from Porsche's slap.

"It's none of your business."

That was as good as a "yes".

Nursing his hurting cheeks, Pete pulled himself up and sat on his bed, looking down at Porsche.
He'd imagined that Kinn did everything to that spot on Porsche's arm. But he'd never imagined that
Kinn would go as low as biting Porsche to make him submit.

"I know what you're going through."

"Oh god," Porsche sighed, turning away. "Not this again."

"When an alpha bites another alpha, the pain-"

"I'm not an alpha."

"I know you are. Don't lie."

"Believe what you want, Pete."

"I'm an omega."

And there it was. The stopped breath, the widened eyes, the stiffening of his features as he
replayed every moment he'd ever been careless around Pete. Just like any unmated alpha would,
when confronted with an omega.

"Yeah, I know we've been really lucky and stupid sleeping in this room together for three months."

Still shocked, he asked, "What?"

Pete gulped, bracing himself for what he was about to say.

"I presented when I was sixteen. My father, before then, used to bite me. Whenever he had a heat,
he... sated himself on me."

Slowly, Porsche's mouth fell wide.

"I could take the bites. Beyond the wounds, it was nothing. Not until I presented. The first time he
bit me on my back, after I became an omega, I felt like that spot was on fire. Like someone had
stabbed me open with a blazing sword. I bled for days. It was the same thing he'd always done. But
for some reason, my presentation made it worse. Which is how I know that that bite must have hurt
you like hell."

"Pete, it wasn't-"

"And considering the shit Kinn went through with Awut, one would think that he knows never to
bite another alpha."

"He didn't do it."

"Oh please, Porsche." Pete could barely believe his ears. "You must have heard every story. Surely
you're aware of how textbook your case is."

Porsche shook his head as he climbed on his bed, kneeling on it as he faced Pete.

"Kinn will probably kill me for telling you this but," he hesitated. "I'm sure he'd rather you not
think he was abusing me."

"Porsche don't make excuses for him."

"He was kidnapped eight days ago."

"Wait what?" Pete's brain struggled to comprehend what Porsche had just said.

"They took him, tied him up and forced him into a rut."
Pete's head erupted in alarms as Porsche's words registered. Triggering as they were, Pete was
reminded of the time when he was kidnapped, tied up and forced into heat. Thinking back to hard
metal beneath his naked butt, biting into his skin as he fought to close his legs, as he prayed his
heat would stay away as long as it could. With a camera capturing every moment as his dick got
harder and harder even though nothing about his surroundings was worth the reaction.

The thought of Kinn going through the same thing was horrifying. Pete's kidnappers hadn't wanted
him to infiltrate the main family. They'd wanted him to go after Vegas. Maybe because they
already had plans to go after Kinn. He wondered if that was why.

"By the time I found him, he was barely able to move. He was running a fever. I was scared so I
made him bite me."

"You did?" Pete asked, still shocked and unsure whether to believe it.

"Yes," Porsche said with conviction.

If it all was true, if the person who took Pete had taken Kinn, then he had to talk to Vegas.

As Pete went to his phone, Porsche frowned at him in confusion.

"What are you doing?"

"I need to talk to Vegas."

"Hell no," Porsche said, grabbing the phone from him. "You can't tell Vegas someone kidnapped
Kinn. He'll tell Phi-Tankhun. That family shoots first and asks questions much later."

"I have to tell Vegas. We've been tracking someone who might be the same person."

"I don't understand," Porsche said as his hands relaxed enough for Pete to take the phone back.
"Tracking who?"

Fuck, Pete thought as he dialed Vegas' number.

Because once he told Vegas what was happening, Vegas was going to want to talk to Kinn about it.
And when that happened...

Kinn was going to find out that Pete had betrayed, not only Vegas, but Kinn's entire family.
 The unlinked clique of-

Vegas didn’t sleep well. He woke up with joint aches, a headache and very slight fever. Slight,
because he didn’t want to have to admit to anyone that he was clammy and sweaty and… fucking
hell, everything just sucked, the rest of the day.

“He slept in a motel last night,” Nop said, seated on one of the short sofas in Vegas’ office as he
gave a report. “He’s still got the coat Pete gave him, so we’ve been able to visually monitor him.
He made a call to an untraceable number last night. He’s meeting with someone today.”

“How did he pay for his room?” Vegas asked.

“He’s a regular. They gave him a room and sent food up as soon as he arrived.”

“Who owns the place?”

“Iteli Turner. An American businessman.”

“Any ties to Gambit?”

“No.”

Vegas sighed, rubbing his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. He didn’t want to be there. He
wanted to go back to bed and cover himself and pretend Gambit was a fucking dream.

“I’ll let you know once he’s on the move, again,” Nop said, getting to his feet.

Vegas waved him off, as Nop left. He pulled out a drawer, grabbed his bottle of suppressants,
poured two into his palm and swallowed, his head tipping back as his eyes caught sight of Ken,
standing by the door, watching Vegas.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Vegas said.

“It’s been seven months, Boss,” Ken said, quietly. Standing still, at the door. Like the permanent
statue that he was.

“Thanks,” Vegas replied. “I know how time works.”

“You’re taking five doses a day. You’re burning through your suppressants and it’s not healthy.”

“I just have to wait three more weeks.”

“For what, if I may ask, Boss.”

It was stupid. Vegas knew it was stupid. But he couldn’t help it. As crazy as it was, he didn’t want
to be… unavailable if Pete ever came looking. And the cast and crew of “Overheat” were due for a
cycle break in three weeks. If Vegas waited, he could go off suppressants around the same time,
thereby reducing the amount of time he’d be away from Pete. Because if he was having a rut, while
Pete was having a heat, then they’d be done in a week, two tops.

It was stupid but Vegas didn’t care.

“If you’re doing this for Pete, Boss-”

“Be very careful what your next words are, Ken.”

When Ken opened his mouth to speak, Vegas' phone rang.

Pete was calling.

"Hey," Vegas said, as soon as he answered.

"Are you busy?"

"What is it?"

"I... I need you to come to Phi-Kinn's place. The hospital."

Vegas' first thought was that something had happened to Porsche. After all, the last time he'd heard
from Porsche, he was arming himself and going after Kinn. Vegas had assumed that since he didn't
get a call for backup, that Porsche had been overreacting and that Porsche was okay.

"What happened?"

"I can't tell you over the phone."

"Pete-"

"Vegas," Porsche said, voice loud like he'd taken the phone from Pete.

"Oh thank god," Vegas said in relief.

"Come to the hospital. We need to talk."

"Tell me what's going on."

"I don't want you to overreact before you know the whole story. Get here first."

Porsche cut the call.

Vegas grabbed his keys, headed straight for the door.

"Boss-" Ken said.

"Not now Ken," Vegas said, abandoning his bodyguard in his office because he wasn't in the mood
to continue that conversation.

***

As soon as Vegas entered the room, Pete and Porsche stood.

"What's going..." Vegas' words trailed off as he saw the seclusion unit Kinn was standing in. "Why
are you in there?"

Porsche moved Vegas out of the way, standing between Vegas and the door.

"I was abducted?" Kinn said with a shrug.

"By who?"

"Can you sit, please?" Pete said.

"Fuck that," Vegas replied, facing Kinn. "Who was it?"

"I knew he'd overreact," Porsche said, locking the room door.

"Overreact?" Vegas asked, looking at Porsche in disappointment. "You do realize that we trade in
fear, right? You do know that all this," Vegas said, waving his hands around the hospital room. "Is
bought and paid for by people's ability to recognise that you don't kidnap a Theerapanyakul
without fucking consequences. Why the fuck didn't you call me earlier?"

"We’re telling you now,” Porsche replied.

"Fine. Who took him?"

"I appreciate your concern for me," Kinn said.

Vegas scoffed.

"Who gives a shit? I'm more worried about our collective reputation as a unit."

"Whatever you say," Porsche said, rolling his eyes. "The point is, no one is running out of this
room half-baked. We need to share information so that we can come up with a plan."

Vegas was neck-deep in Gambit bullshit. The fact that he had to worry about people kidnapping
Kinn was just too much. He needed to let off some steam.

"A plan for what?" he asked. "What's going on?"

Kinn sighed, looking away as Vegas realized that even Pete was avoiding looking at him. As well.

"We know about the issue with Gambit," Porsche said. "Pete was just filling us in when you
walked in.

Vegas pursed his lips, anger draining down to his fingertips as his hands itched to punch
something.

"What?" he asked. "You told them?"

"The person coming after you might be the same person coming after Phi-Kinn. I had to tell them."

He had a point. Weeks now, and Vegas still didn't have any solid leads. If something was going on
with Kinn then-

Vegas phone vibrated.

"What?"

"We got something,” Nop said. “I just sent you a video clip. You're not going to believe who that
cockroach works for."

Vegas cut the call and checked his messages. There was a one-minute clip.

"Who was that?" Porsche asked.

"Nop has a lead on who might be bothering me."

"Let me see," Porsche came around as Pete followed.

Vegas played the clip of the man walking through corridors. He couldn't believe the fool had worn
that same coat, taking along the camera on the collar. He turned into an elevator that took him right
to the roof. As soon as the man stepped onto a helipad, a chopper slowly drifted onto the roof,
landing as the doors shot open. Two bodyguards stepped out.

Then the boss followed.

"Holy fuck," Porsche said.

"Wait," Pete said, as the video fizzled and stopped abruptly. "Who was that?"

"Oh my god," Porsche said, as he grabbed Vegas' phone from Vegas' hand.

"Was that-" Vegas started to say, but Porsche pressed a finger to Vegas' lips to keep him silent.

"Give me your phone, Pete."

Pete handed over his phone."

"Where's your phone?"

Kinn held up his own phone.

"Okay," Porsche said. "Get a coat, wrap the phone in the coat and put it under your pillow. Now!"

As Porsche spoke, Porsche picked his and Pete's coat, and wrapped all three of their phones. Then
he put them under a couch cushion and sat on it.

As soon as he was done, everyone was looking at him like he was crazy.

"What was that for?" Vegas asked.

"You saw who was in that video, right?" Porsche asked.

"Who was in it?" Kinn asked.

"Tod Setely," Vegas and Porsche replied in unison.

"Wait, what?" Kinn asked, looking even more confused.

"Tod is a tech genius,” Porsche explained. “Every phone in this room is a potential monitoring
device. Trust me. We don't want to be talking about this with phones lying around."

Vegas frowned.

"If you're saying the same person who's messing with me is the same person who is messing with
Kinn, are you saying Tod Setely kidnapped Kinn?"

"No," Porsche said. "Tawan Apinya kidnapped Kinn."

"Actually, it was the congressman," Kinn added.

Vegas took a deep breath.

"You guys aren't making any sense. Now, let's all take this from the top. We're here to share
information, right? Let's share."
Everyone hesitated.

"Someone has to start talking."

"Okay," Pete said. "I'll start."

"Thank you," Vegas said, taking a seat beside Porsche.

Pete sat up straight, clasping his hands together.

"Two weeks before camp, I was abducted and filmed in heat by an unknown man."

"What the fuck, Pete?" Kinn said, voice coated in concern as he got up from his bed and moved to
the glass screen.

Without looking in Kinn's direction, Pete gulped and continued. "They wanted information on
Vegas, so when Vegas found out," Pete's voice shook. "We came up with a plan to capture one of
the men and set him loose so that he'd lead us to his boss."

"And as you've all just seen," Vegas cut in. "Said boss is Tod Setely. Now, Your turn, Kinn."

"Wait," Kinn said. "Why go to Vegas? Why not spy on me? Pete, you were already close to me
anyway."

"They wouldn't need to spy on you if Tawan was about to marry you anyway," Porsche said.

Kinn sighed, but held his tongue from replying to that.

"What's that about?" Vegas asked.

"Kinn's fiancé-"

"His father-"

"Abducted Kinn and tried to get them mated."

"What the fuck?" Vegas asked, eyes wide in horror. "Tawan Apinya? Really?"

"Do you know him?" Porsche asked.

"We dated," Vegas said. "Barely a date. He thought it was a date but Papa just wanted me to fuck
him for a deal with his father. Tawan wasn't into that at all."

Porsche frowned like that was not what he'd expected.

"See?" Kinn asked Porsche. "I told you he's not like that."

"I thought he was a beta," Vegas said.

"He presented last year," Kinn offered. "Lost his job and everything."

"Did he bite you?" Pete asked, going to Kinn.

"No, I'm fine."

Porsche scoffed, frowning while he sat. Vegas looked at him. This was not the whole story.
Something was going on between Porsche and Kinn and whatever the fuck actually happened
during his abduction. Vegas wanted to ask but he refrained. When it was just the two of them, he
was going to get the real juice of it out of Porsche.

"So what do we know?" Kinn asked. "Tod Setely went after Pete for information in Vegas and
Congressman Apinya went after me to force his son into the family. Is it safe to say they're
working together?"

"Makes sense," Vegas said. "Tod was after Macau earlier. Then he met Porsche and started
pursuing Porsche instead."

Pete shook his head. "Something still doesn't feel right. If Tod wants an in with your family, why
go through Porsche? You're close but Porsche is not a Theerapanyakul."

"Maybe he already got information about me. He could afford to use Porsche for something else."

"Got information from where?" Kinn asked.

"There has to be a connection. I mean, we know Gambit is involved, but maybe we're just not
aware of the CEO's link to Tod Setely or the congressman."

"What information?" Kinn asked again.

Porsche looked between Pete and Vegas, as if sensing that Vegas was evading Kinn's question.

Vegas hated himself for uttering those words. He was so caught up in the moment... in the
possibility of unveiling his enemy that he'd spoken too much. Now, Kinn was latching on to it.
Vegas had noticed the careful language Pete used to explain their side of things. He hadn't
specified much and it had gone over Kinn's head. But now...

"Vegas," Kinn said, quietly. "Look at me."

Cringing inwardly, Vegas turned to Kinn.

"What information?"

"There was a leak but we’ve plugged it."

"A leak?"

"Yes, but it's fine."

"A leak to Tod Setely?"

Vegas nodded slightly.

Kinn's face hardened as his eyes slid over to Pete, who was staring at the ground.

"When you said he abducted you for information and Vegas found out, I guess you skipped the
part where you actually gave him information."

"Hey now," Vegas said, standing. "We've resolved the issue."

"Sit," Kinn said.

Vegas obeyed, hating that he was sitting so far away from Pete. When Kinn returned his attention
to Pete, Vegas wanted to go over there. He wanted to get up and get between them.
"How long?"

"Up... up until last month," Pete said.

Kinn let out a hard laugh as he took a step back from the glass screen.

"You didn't tell me."

"He has a recording of me in-"

"Did you think that wouldn't matter to me?" Kinn asked. “Did you think that if you came to me
about that, that I would what? Abandon you?"

"I was trying to spare yo-"

"By spying on my cousin?"

Pete lowered his gaze again.

"I'm sorry."

"Get out."

Porsche looked up. "Kinn."

"We're trying to strategize and I would rather not do that in front of a leak."

Pete got up and left, as Poreche went after him.

"Porsche- '' Kinn said just as Porsche slammed the door on his way out.

Kinn gasped, blinking at the door like he expected it to give him answers.

"Okay," he said, turning to Vegas. "How am I the bad guy now?"

"Are you looking for a real answer or should I just keep sitting here, obediently?"

"Pete lied to you. He sold your information."

"To save himself."

"He didn't have to do that. He could have gone to you."

"We barely knew each other."

"He could have gone to me."

"He thought he could handle it and to be fair, he was handling it."

"How many deals did you lose? How many men?"

Vegas rubbed his neck, remembering how he'd felt in the dungeon, realizing what Pete had been
doing. And he'd only known Pete a few months. Kinn had worked with him for years.

"I'm not saying he's innocent."

"No, you're just defending because you want to keep fucking him."
Something inside of Vegas clenched tight as his anger fluttered in his stomach. Kinn looked up at
him.

"That was unfair.” He waved at Vegas. “I'm sorry," he said, sitting on his bed as he rubbed his eyes
in weariness. "I can't... I don't even know where to start from. Fucking Pete."

"He's on my side now."

"How can you be sure?"

"I caught him-"

"Exactly," Kinn cut in. "He didn't confess. You caught him. He's sorry. He's working with you
now, because he got caught."

"What would you have done?"

"I would have confided in people I trust."

"No," Vegas said, shaking his head. "I mean, what would you have done if you were me?" Vegas
really wanted to know. "If Pete was Porsche and he'd done something atrocious and disloyal, what
would you have done?"

Kinn opened his mouth to reply, but no words would form. Not that Vegas needed any words.
Kinn's answer was right there on his face. The broken helplessness was evident. If the roles were
switched, Kinn wouldn't even bat an eyelash.

He'd be bending over backwards to find a way that he and Porshce could continue to be. He'd
rationalize Porsche's decision like his life depended on it. Vegas didn't need to assume, he'd seen it
before.

Recently, Kinn had learned that Porsche was an alpha. Rather than running in the other direction,
Kinn had gone back to Porsche.

Considering that, how could he judge Vegas for his feelings? How could he not understand that if
Pete was making the attempt, if Pete was sticking his neck out for this to work, how could Kinn
think that Vegas had any other choice than to fall right behind him again?

Pete wasn't perfect. He was just as human as the rest of them. But Vegas wasn't looking for an
angel. He was looking for Pete. For a man who could catch him covered in blood and drag him to
get a shower. For a man who could fuck him and cuddle him till slumber. For a man who wasn't
trying to change Vegas or disregard the work that Vegas did for his family.

"He betrayed you."

"And he'll pay for it," Vegas said.

Kinn spared Vegas a concerned look.

"I thought you'd forgiven him."

Vegas shrugged. He was in love with Pete, but he wasn't a forgiving fool. Actions had
consequences.

"We need him, Kinn. We can't shut him out of this."

Kinn clasped his hands, tapping his toes on the ground, deep in thought.

"You're sure you have a lid on him."

"I do."

"And you trust him?"

"I do."

"Fine then."

Vegas smiled as he got up from the chair and headed for the door.

"Vegas," Kinn called.

"Huh?"

"Be careful."

Vegas smiled.

"When am I not?"

As he went in search of Pete, Vegas laid out all he'd learned, like a map in his head. Tod Setely.
Tawan Apinya. Pete Saengthem.

Three omegas, well stationed around the Theerapanyakul alphas... and Porsche. Vegas shuddered
to imagine what could have happened. It all could have gone unnoticed and they'd have never seen
the pattern.

They still hadn't even seen the pattern completely. They were still running around like headless
chickens with no plan in sight. Kinn was right. Vegas ought to be careful.

If Pete hadn't ended up in that dungeon, Vegas would have never found the bugs. And if he'd never
found the bugs, the Theerapanyakul dynasty would have been infiltrated... or toppled by an
unlinked clique of omegas.
 The lover's trauma

Porsche caught Pete just as he left the room, but Pete wouldn't wait.

"Stop for a second," Porsche said, grabbing him by the arm.

"You don't have to-"

"Pete," Porsche stopped him from talking. "You were protecting yourself."

Pete stared at him, a look of suspicion and hesitation in his eyes. For a moment, Porsche felt like
they were in a scene and he wasn't looking at Pete anymore. Porsche felt like he was Beon, looking
at the despicably dubious Niran. One moment, Pete was normal, the next he'd drawn a blanket over
his features, blocking Porsche from approaching him in any way. This wasn't the first time he'd
seen the look on Pete's face. But whenever he did, there was an understanding that they were
acting. They were working.

But at that moment, witnessing this Pete in the real world was a little unsettling.

"It's not your problem, Porsche. Let it go." He shrugged his hand out of Porsche's grasp, but
Porsche blocked him from leaving.

"Kinn will calm down. Just give him a minute."

"He has every right to be mad," Pete said, moving aside as Porsche moved as well.

"Why are you both so strong headed? What are you planning on doing? Are you going to resign
from his company? Are you going to quit "Overheat"? You're not doing either of those things so
both of you are going to make up eventually."

Pete sighed and stopped trying to get around Porsche as he looked at him.

"I understand that this is weird for you and you feel like you're in the middle, but I promise you
Porsche, this isn't your battle. You don't have to involve yourself in this."

"I don't want you to leave here feeling like-"

"It's my business, Porsche. Just leave it alone."

When Pete moved to the side, this time, Porsche didn't block him.

"We need you for the plan to work."

At those words, Pete slowed to a stop, placing his hands on his hips as he turned back around.
There was a tight smile on his face.

"Of course. I have the contact and I'm the one who can recognize my abductors. Fine. I'll help, but
I'm going back to camp."

Porsche shook his head.

"You're listening to me now that you think I need you."

"We were already trying to catch who is responsible."

True. But Porsche could read the minutely relaxed pose on Pete's entire frame. He'd been so tense
when Porsche was asking him to stay. But now that he remembered they were working together,
now that he remembered there was an objective reason for him to be around, he was suddenly
trusting of Porsche's advances.

Moving towards him, Porsche said, "You do realize you don't have to do anything, right? You can
just walk away."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Kinn and Vegas, they have resources of lifetimes. You don't have to put your neck on the line."

"My career is on the line. Wan has a video of me in..." Pete's words lowered to nothing as he
looked around, finally remembering that they were in public. "This isn't just about the leak in
Vegas' businesses. I'm doing this for me too."

Porsche wanted to cry. Pete was approaching everything with the clinical familiarity of a man
who'd been doing this all his life and Porsche just wanted to scream. This wasn't something to see
as normal. Porsche wasn't even really involved in it and he was freaking out. He'd taken a gun and
gone after Kinn and sometimes, Porsche lay awake at night, thinking about it. Wondering what he
would have done if they'd caught him or shot him or killed him. He'd been so foolish to run
headfirst into that kind of danger and he was still very shaken about it.

He wasn't even the real target, but Porsche felt like someone was watching his every move. Every
second. Of everyday.

Yet, here was Pete, willing to brush off his experiences like it was nothing. He'd been bound to a
metal chair and left alone for hours. He'd been exposed and practically sexually assaulted, seeing
as he was forced into a heat. But to him, it was nothing.

Unable to stand it anymore, Porsche walked right into Pete's space and pulled him into a tight hug.
Cradling Pete's head into his shoulder, Porsche blinked away tears.

"Uh... Porsche?"

"Just give me a minute," Porsche pleaded.

Together, in the middle of the hospital hallway, they stood, in probably the most awkward hug
known to mankind. Porsche didn't really care. He just wanted to hold Pete. Feel him. Believe that
he was real. He wondered what kind of love a person like Pete thought himself to deserve, if he
was so unwilling to accept affection unless he thought he was being useful to other people. Porsche
resented Kinn and Vegas in equal measure, as men who were supposed to be intimate with Pete.
Because they had to have been some failing on their part if Pete was still this way.

"You're awesome, do you know that?" Porsche asked.

"You're being a weirdo."

"I know."

"Can I go now?"

"In a second."

"And here I thought the cuddling was going to stop now that we both know what we really are."
Porsche pulled away, frowning. "It's better now. We can be more careful."

"I'm not cuddling an unmated alpha."

"You need it just as much as me."

Maybe not as much. Pete was definitely more emotionally regulated than Porsche had been. But he
could still tell Pete enjoyed the cuddling. He may not have needed it, emotionally. But as an
omega, even without leaning into stereotypes, Porsche was aware that cuddling an alpha did good
things to Pete's state of being, as a whole.

"I'm going to step away from you now," Pete said.

This time, Porsche let him go completely.

"Be careful."

"I just want to clear my head. I'll be back in dorm before dawn."

He hated watching him leave, but Pete was a grown man. If he wanted to take a walk, he was
going to take a walk. It wasn't as if Porsche could just bundle him and store him in his pocket, in
safety, away from Wan and Tod and god only knew who else was out there staring at Pete with
evil intent.

When he turned back around, Vegas was leaning on the wall, watching Porsche with hooded eyes.

"I'm making a note, now, for the sake of our friendship and our professional relationship," Vegas
said. "That you stop touching Pete outside of work."

Porsche scoffed, casually strolling towards him.

"You should see us cuddle at night."

"Excuse me?" Vegas said, pushing off the wall.

"I guess that's what happens when an alpha neglects his omega and the omega goes running into
the arms of the next alpha he can find."

He walked past Vegas, heading for Kinn's hotel room.

"Okay," Vegas followed him. "I feel like you're joking, but I'm about to start taking your words
very seriously."

"Boohoo," Porsche said, reaching the door at the same time as Dr. Top. "Good..." he checked his
watch and it was a few minutes after two in the morning. "...morning, doctor."

"Porsche," the doctor nodded. "Kinn called for a checkout. At 2am. Just what every insomniac
wants."

He opened the door and entered as Vegas held Porsche back.

"Seriously."

"Oh stop your whining," Porsche said. "I wanted a hug and he was right there."

"And the cuddling?"

With his hand on the door, Porsche feigned contemplation, complete with a furrow in his brow.

"The cuddling has been happening. You know. Just to relieve a bit of emotional stress."

"You're going to stop that or-"

"Or what? You'll return the favor?" Porsche laughed. "I'd like to see you cuddle your own cousin."

"You're disgusting."

"You do realize that cuddling is platonic and something that you can do with your actual cousins?"

The look of disgust didn't leave Vegas' face as he let go of Porsche, giving him the middle finger as
he headed away.

"Tsk. I love you too, Khun-Vegas."

When Porsche entered the room, Dr. Top was standing at the glass wall, a screen of information on
Kinn's vitals laid out before him as he questioned Kinn, quietly. Porsche went to the cushion to
retrieve the phones and found that Vegas had taken his phone but Pete's and Porsche's were still
there. He would give it to Pete when he got back to camp. He was about to leave.

"Porsche?" Kinn said. "Can you wait a minute?"

Porsche looked at Kinn. Then he looked at Dr. Top.

"He'll be out soon," the doctor said, as if Porsche wanted to hear those words.

The last thing he wanted to do was interact with Kinn without a wall of glass between them. And
yet, he sighed and sat on the arm of the couch, just as his phone vibrated in his hand.

Rolling his eyes, he picked the call. "What?"

"You're sending me mixed signals," Tod said.

"What do you want?"

"You didn't delete my number."

"How astute."

"And yet, you're hiding your phone and trying to block me out."

"I'm not a rat in a box, Tod."

As soon as he said the words, he regretted it because Kinn's head turned in Porsche's direction, his
brows set and unhappy.

"If you want my protection, don't hide from me."

"I have things to do."

"I can't help if I don't know what's going on with you."

"I'm sure you'll survive."

"Porsche."
"I'm hanging up now."

He cut the call. Five seconds later, he received a message with a kissy face emoji. Porsche
clenched his fist around the phone, unsure what to think of the man. They hadn't really discussed a
proper plan to deal with Tod and Tawan. In the meantime, Porsche figured he'd best remain exactly
as he always was. If he was suddenly nice to Tod, warning bells would go off. Plus, it was
exceptionally hard to be nice to him. One word out of Tod's mouth and every nice bone in
Porsche's body just tapped out.

“No fever, no raging mating hormones, no rut. From what I can see,” Dr. Top said. “Can you take
a deep breath?”

Kinn inhaled and held it in, as Dr. Top swiped a few things on the screen and the unit was sprayed,
as the sound of the decompressor went off. When the air cleared out, Kinn exhaled. Dr. Top
unlocked the door with a tiny pfft sound as a gust of wind went rushing into the unit.

“You can come out now.”

Kinn held the small handle of the glass door and pushed it aside as Dr. Tap switched off the unit
and exited the room.

“I’m done,” Kinn announced, eyes bright as he came towards the couch.

“You asked me to wait.”

“Right.” He sat on the other end of the couch. “I was going to brush it away, in the hopes that we
could move on. But it seems like you want to talk about it.”

“About what?”

Kinn flinched. “The… uh… the thing I said. Why you left?”

Porsche didn’t reply. If Kinn wanted to talk, he could talk. Porsche was too busy being aware of
the fact that they were, once again, in a room alone, with no injuries or Tod or glass screens
between them. Kinn had had the tiniest decency to sit far away. But that didn’t mean that Porsche
couldn’t smell him, or remember what it felt like to be close to him or rub against him. Porsche was
holding it together. He could do this. He wasn’t going to put himself in a position to be treated that
way again. He wasn’t that naïve.

But he was also very aware that this was Kinn. If Porsche was to survive this encounter with his
dignity intact, he had to keep his walls up. And that included not moving or talking too much.
Because that was always the danger with Kinn. He listened. He let Porsche talk. He let Porsche
dance around like a hapless kid, oversharing his feelings and acting on his impulses so that Kinn
knew everything there was to know about Porsche.

After all, it had been Porsche’s loose lips that had led them down this road. “What do you want
from me?” Porsche had asked, that night on the rooftop. “Do you want me to kneel before you?
Bow to you? Kiss your feet?”

And like always, Kinn had listened till he found an opening, only to offer a simple “yes” and send
Porsche’s world crumbling down.

So no. This time, Porsche wasn’t going to be the one to overshare.

“I didn’t mean what I said. I was just… I was going through something and I was… I was trying to
punish you.”

Porsche silently gave him points for self-awareness.

“I admire the work you do with omega children. I hope you never change. I’m just really sorry that
my anger extended into your job and your work with the kids. I had no right.”

Porsche gave a few more points.

“I was thinking we could start over.”

Without warning, Kinn shifted closer. Even though Porsche was sitting on the arm of the couch, he
couldn’t help the need to move away. But there was no more room, so he settled for crossing his
leg and turning, slightly, away from Kinn.

“Please look at me.”

“Kinn-”

“Please.”

Porsche couldn’t do it. There wasn’t much to hide anymore, anyway. If he wasn’t already so gone
on Kinn, he’d have been able to look him in the eye. But Porsche couldn't. He needed to get
through one conversation with Kinn without feeling like his world was upturned. Again. He
couldn’t do that if he was looking Kinn in the face, or staring into his pretty eyes.

When Kinn took Porsche’s hand, his entire body froze as Porsche looked down at their joined
hands. His skin tingled at the contact, sending tiny spasms of shock up his arms, to his chest as his
heart beat erratically.

Get up, Porsche, he thought to himself. Get up and leave.

But he couldn’t move. Not with Kinn’s fingers rubbing against his hand, ever so softly.

“I’ll do better,” Kinn promised, lifting the hand to his lips as he placed a soft kiss against Porsche’s
knuckles.

As crafty as he was, aware that Porsche was staring at their hands, Kinn’s kiss brought Porsche’s
eyes so close that Porsche didn’t know what was happening until he was looking into Kinn’s eyes.
As soon as their eyes met, Kinn smiled as he clenched Porsche’s hand again and kissed it. Rubbing
it slowly, a mesmerizing caress to complement his mesmerizing eyes.

“I’ll do anything you want,” Kinn said. “I just want us to put it all behind us. I know you’re an
alpha. I can live with it.”

Porsche frowned, still staring into Kinn’s eyes. He could hear what Kinn was saying, but
something didn’t sound right. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. It also didn’t help that Kinn was
rubbing and gently kissing Porsche’s hand, drawing all his senses into that bit of little contact till
that was all Porsche could think about. He could remember what that felt like on every other bit of
his skin. Kinn was shameless about where he wanted to put his mouth when it came to Porsche.
Things that he’d claimed he never liked doing with other people, Porsche had found that Kinn had
no problem doing to Porsche.

Porsche never called him out on it. Who was he to complain if Kinn wanted to lick him all over?
Who was he to complain if Kinn got desperate for kisses on the lips when he claimed he didn’t like
to be kissed?

It wouldn’t be the worst thing to just slide down onto the couch. It had been so long. And Kinn was
offering.

“I’ll be anything you want. We can do whatever you want.”

As reassuring as those words were meant to be, Porsche couldn’t help a nagging feeling in his head
that was telling to get up. To get away. To put some distance between. Because something didn’t
feel right. But how could he? While one hand held Porsche’s hand up to Kinn’s lips, the other
traveled up Porsche’s elbow, to his shoulder, to his chest.

The next thing he knew, the hand was wrapping around the back of Porsche’s neck, pulling him
down to the couch as their lips met in a clash of teeth and skin. Diving into the kiss, Porsche wasn't
sure which of them sighed. It couldn’t have been him. Because the moment their lips touched, a
dam broke in Porsche as he grabbed Kinn by the neck, pressing their lips even closer, sucking on
his tongue, wishing he could find that bit of longing and satisfaction he always found when he was
with Kinn like this.

He pushed Kinn down on the couch as Kinn went without struggle, allowing Porsche to set the
pace. Porsche wanted to stop. He wanted to let go. But a part of him was too afraid of what might
happen if he did. Kinn; tall, proud, alpha Kinn; had come to him with this much desperation.
Porsche couldn’t get enough of his kisses if he was offering. Because who knew the limit of Kinn’s
pride? Who knew when he’d put his foot down and decide Porsche wasn’t worth the chase?

Porsche unbuttoned Kinn’s shirt, taking a short break from kisses to pull it off as he noted the tiny
lag in Kinn’s movements. Even in the haze of horniness, Porsche slowed down, kneeling between
Kinn’s legs as Kinn stared up at him.

Something wasn’t right.

“What is it?” Kinn asked, lips swollen and red from Porsche’s attack on them. Like Porsche, he
was breathing heavily, his lips parted to take in air. Porsche had never seen him like this before.

When Kinn licked his lips, Porsche kissed them, unable to help himself. He reached for Kinn’s
pants, but instead of the buckle, he pressed against Kinn’s dick and Porsche’s heart sank when his
suspicions were confirmed.

“What are you doing?” Porsche asked Kinn.

“What?” Kinn asked, looking just as confused.

Porsche couldn’t even fault him for that. Kinn probably didn’t even know what he was doing.

“Come on,” Kinn urged, raising his hands to Porsche’s neck again. “Don’t stop now.”

Porsche held Kinn’s hand in place, looking down at the love of his life and feeling nothing but
dread in the pit of his stomach. It had taken him longer than it should have, but Porsche finally got
what was so terribly wrong with the entire situation.

“Turn around,” Porsche commanded.

“What?” Kinn replied, his eyes fluttering in discomfort.

“I said, turn around.”

Pursing his lips, Kinn began to maneuver himself. As if he really was going to turn around.

Porsche squealed as he got up from the couch, putting as much distance as the space outside the
seclusion unit would allow.

“Where are you going?” Kinn asked, his voice coated in fear.

“What the fuck are you doing, Kinn?”

Sitting back in place, Kinn’s eyes widened in shock. “I didn't do anything.”

“You’ll be anything I want? You’ll do anything I want? You were just going to turn around and let
me do what? Huh?”

“We were having a good time.”

“You were hard when we started kissing. You’re not anymore.”

“There’s an ebb and a flow to these things sometimes.”

“Were you going to let me top you just now?”

“Yes,” Kinn replied with no hesitation.

But as soon as the words left his mouth, he blinked, and a frown appeared on his face as if he was
fighting off unhappy thoughts.

“Oh my god!” Porsche said.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“You are an adult, for fucksake.”

“I’m just trying to find some compromise.”

“Kinn, it’s not a compromise to offer things that you do not want to give. I will not die if I do not
top you.”

“You’ve topped every other man you’ve ever fucked.”

“That’s not the point of this.”

“What is the point then? I want you back and I’m willing to do anything.”

“Stop! Fucking! Saying! That!” Porsche said, smacking his hands against the hospital walls, at
every word. “I don’t want something that you don’t want to give.”

“I made you bend to my will.”

“And you think I want to do that to you?”

“You’re an alpha,” Kinn said, his voice harsh and hard like it was minutely painful for him to
admit that. “I’m an alpha. One of us has got to give.”

Porsche pulled against his own hair, unable to understand how he could love someone so fucking
stupid.
“I don’t want to command or control you.”

“Then what the fuck do you want me to do?” Kinn asked, getting to his feet. “Tell me what to do
and I’ll do it.”

“Oh,” Porsche said, moving to Kinn to hold his cheeks in his hands as he caressed them to try and
calm down the foolish man with foolish thoughts. “It’s a relationship, Kinn. Remember what it was
like before you knew I was an alpha?”

“I can’t-”

He tried to turn away, but Porsche held his head in place.

“It’s the same thing.”

“No, it’s not. There are roles.”

“I’ve topped other alphas and they’ve topped me.”

“How will that work, exactly?” Kinn asked. “One alpha has to know his place as-”

“As the lesser one?” Porsche completed.

“I never said that,” Kinn replied, pulling out of Porsche’s grasp as he started to put his shirt back
on. “I never called you lesser.”

But while his words said one thing, Kinn’s entire body said anything and Porsche was distraught to
imagine how he’d never even thought of it before.

“Kinn, did you think I was less than you because I… bottomed for you?”

“Now, you’re just putting words in my mouth.”

Porsche was to blame for this, too. He couldn’t lay it all at Kinn’s feet. Because Porsche had
known what Kinn was carrying when he’d prepositioned him, that first night. He’d known about
Awut and the scars he’d left. More than anyone else, Porsche knew what had happened and how
Kinn had never fully dealt with it. He’d come away from that relationship afraid to ever bottom for
anyone, much less get on his hands and knees and leave himself exposed to someone else.

And yet Porsche had fucked him. Kept his status as an alpha a secret and exploited that to his
advantage, never quite realizing that the scars from Awut had never really healed.

“I can’t do this, Kinn.”

Kinn stopped moving, even though he didn’t look up at Porsche.

“I already said I’m willing to do what you want.”

“What do you want, Kinn?”

“I want you.” Kinn looked at him. “What do you want?”

“I want you to talk to someone.”

Kinn hissed. “I’m getting really tired of you positioning me as some type of victim.”
“I’m not going to force you to do it.”

“Right,” Kinn said, a sad, hard smile on his face. “You’ll just dangle the promise of a relationship
in front of me till I do what you want. How’s that different from an outright command?”

Porsche searched and searched his mind, but he couldn’t find an answer.

“My cards are all on the table, Porsche. Whenever you’re ready, you let me know.”

Kinn took his jacket from the wall as he left the hospital room. Porsche, unable to stand there
anymore, sat back on the arm of the couch. He should have just left when his gut first said to leave.
Because of course he and Kinn had managed to take one step forward, and fifty fucking steps back.
 The conundrum

After his conversation with his father, Kinn had taken a few things into consideration. Chief
among them was the fact that Kinn was never going to become like his Uncle, Kun. For one, Kinn
was exclusively into men. If he ever did have children, they would be wanted and loved. He would
never want to do to his children the things that Uncle Kun did to Vegas, or even Macau.

With that realization also came the fact that, eventually, Kinn was going to have to make
accommodations for the fact that Porsche would never truly be his, again. Even if, on some level,
Porsche managed to forgive Kinn and get back together with him, there was always the issue of the
things Kinn had to do, or was willing to do to survive. And Papa was right. He was irritating. But
he was right.

Porsche, with his happy childhood and loving parents and bright view of the world, was not
someone to be found at the side of a man like Kinn. And Kinn knew this. He wanted Porsche with
all his heart and he hoped that none of it would matter to Porsche, in the long run.

But then, he had to remind himself that Uncle Kun had probably thought the same thing. He'd
fallen in love with a firecracker with a chip of justice on her shoulder and he'd gotten burned for it.

Which meant that all Kinn would ever deserve, was what Porsche was willing to give. If Porsche
wanted him now, if Porsche would take him back now, Kinn knew he would jump at the chance.
Regardless of the possible pain that it might cause in the future. He could handle this. He could
take it.

He would do all that, but he would never become his uncle.

Kinn went back to work. Tankhun was at camp because Kinn had asked him to take his place. And
by the time that Kinn had been abducted, and then secluded away in the unit, Tankhun's meetings
had piled up, business deals were past their deadline and Kinn's office was a flurry of activity. Kinn
was grateful for the noise. If he worked till 4am, went home and passed out, woke up at 8am and
went back to work, it was easier to live, than to sit around wondering how to survive without a
reply from Porsche or any form of personal contact.

Vegas was keeping him updated on his investigation, but they'd still never found a link between
Tawan, Tawan's father and Tod. Porsche was still adamant that Tawan was directly involved, but
there was no evidence to support that.

"Boss?" Big said, leaning into the office.

"What?"

"We've found him."

Kinn stopped everything he was doing. He didn't even have to ask who was "him". It wasn't often
that Kinn held malice in his heart. But when he did, his blood boiled till he exact some form of
retribution.

"Mr. Apinya," Kinn said, walking into the underground cell where his men had gagged and tied up
the councilman. "Nice to see you again."

"You are in so much trouble, Kinn. Let me go and we can forget this ever happened."
Kinn held out his hand. Big put a handgun in it. When Kinn didn't clench the gun, Big took it and
replaced it with a small dagger.

Apinya sneered. "You don't scare me."

"What did you want from me?" Kinn asked.

"Why don't you ask your father?"

Kinn crouched and stabbed him in the foot. As Apinya screamed in pain, clenching his entire body,
but unable to move because of the chains keeping him in place, Kinn held out his hand again and
Big put another dagger in it.

"I'll keep going all the way up your body until you give me an answer."

Breathing hard, staring at Kinn in venomous rage, he said, "I wanted Tawan to bite you."

"Wrong again."

Kinn stabbed the dagger into his ankle.

"Mother! Fucker!" Apinya screamed and his eyes filled with tears. "I already told you."

"Let's try this again." Kinn got another dagger.

This time, Apinya's eyes followed the dagger without any hint of bravery.

"Your men were clearing the way for me-" Apinya opened his mouth and Kinn raised the dagger.
"Don't lie. You were going to let me go. I was weak and in a rut and yet, I somehow managed to
scale that fence without one security guard finding me. At the time, I thought I was just lucky.
Your men let me go. Why?"

"You're just... you're just going to stab me again."

Kinn pressed the tip of the dagger into his shin and Apinya screamed.

"Talk."

"I've told you what I wanted," he shouted, tears rolling down his face. "I wanted to secure my son's
place in your family. That was the fucking deal I had with your father. I left standing orders to keep
you at the mansion until you and Tawan had matching bites. That's what I fucking wanted!"

He was quivering as he stared up at Kinn. If he was lying, he was great at it. Kinn didn't feel as
though he was. The man really had wanted a mate for his son. But there was more. If Kinn had
done something to compromise his family in that compound, he needed to know. Or else, why
would they let him go?

Returning the dagger, Kinn said, "Take him to Dr. Top, then let him go."

"Boss?" Big asked. "If we let him go-"

"He'll be nice and quiet," Kinn said, looking at Apinya. "Right, Councilman?"

"I swear I'll never say a word."

"Good boy."
The walk back to his office was longer than usual, with Kinn wracking his brain, back and forth. It
made sense that Apinya would want a simple bite. But he'd made that deal with Papa. And if Kinn
knew anything about Papa, his deals always had deals upon deals. Was he in the same boat as
Apinya? Did he really just want to secure a mate for his son? Because there had to be more to it.

He headed to his father's office, and as soon as he stepped in, he kept the door open and waited for
everyone in the office to file out, without needing to be told. As the last person left, Kinn let the
door swing shut.

"Is there something I can do for you, Kinn?" Papa asked, getting up from his chair and coming
around to the more casual couches.

"What exactly was your deal with Apinya?"

Papa frowned. "I wanted you to mate Tawan."

"That's all?"

"That's all."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"Because in your mind, I am the enemy."

Kinn laughed.

"What is so funny?"

"I have done everything according to your word. My whole life. Unlike Phi-Khun who rebelled
after university and didn't come home for two years. Unlike Kim who went away to be a musician
for a while, I have stayed by your side. Since the moment I became an alpha, I have been the face
of this family. I went to school for you. I studied for you. I have killed for you. I have done
everything that you have ever asked. I..." Kinn said, giving himself a moment to breathe. "Am the
epitome of an obedient son."

"Kinn-"

"And yet, the one time I think for myself, you interpret that as me seeing you as the enemy?"

Papa raised his hand and ushered Kinn to sit opposite him. Normally, Kinn would have, but he
noticed the chess board situated between the two chairs and refused to move. The last thing he
needed was for Papa to beat him at chess just so he could manipulate Kinn in a moment of failure
and weakness.

"I'd like to remain standing."

"What good is an excellent game, if you make a mistake at the last moment?"

"My life is not a game."

"You're right," Papa said with a nod. "Your life is more dangerous than a chess game. You're a
king. Whether you want to admit it or not, you're the most vulnerable person in this dynasty."

"What does picking a mate have to do with any of that?"

"You need a queen that's loyal and stronger than anyone else on the board."
"Porsche literally stormed Apinya's compound for me."

"In a moment of weakness that might never be replicated. He went to save you."

"Why isn't that enough for you?"

"Because it isn't a part of who Porsche is. Tawan Apinya has the edge of an alpha's mate. I've met
the boy and he'll be good for you. As a parent, you see things differently. You want what's best for
your child."

"And having me kidnapped and chained is what's best for me?"

"An omega is what's best for an alpha."

"Bullshit."

"Watch your tongue."

"Or what?"

The slow rise of shock in Papa's face was the biggest ego boost Kinn had ever received in his life.

"Something isn't adding up. I've seen you make deals and it's never that simple."

"In this case, I wanted one simple thing. Not for my business. Not for a contract. For you."

"And I'm just supposed to believe that?"

Papa shook his head, slowly. "One day, when you have children, you'll understand."

"No, Papa," Kinn said. "If I ever have children, I will support them. I will listen to them. I will try
my very best to make sure that they never feel the way you've made me feel."

Without waiting for another word from Papa, Kinn stormed out of the office. If Papa and Apinya
weren't going to give him the information he needed, Kinn grudgingly came to the realization that
he was going to have to confront someone that he didn't want to.

If Kinn wanted to get to the bottom of this, he'd have to sit down and talk to Tawan, once more.

***

In the same secluded booth, where they'd had that first drink, Kinn sat, a bottle of whiskey between
them, as Tawan brought out his smoking set, a slight frown on his face.

"I didn't think you'd ever want to see me again." Tawan lit the cigarette between his lips and
offered Kinn one, but Kinn declined.

Even though Kinn knew that Tawan was in the same boat as he was, having a father like Apinya,
Kinn had to tread lightly. Tawan was not his enemy, but Kinn's allies, Porsche and Vegas, were
wary of Tawan. And if, by some miracle, Tawan turned out to be a problem, Kinn had to make
sure that he didn't think Kinn was against him.

For all intents and purposes, Tawan was a source. Not the enemy. Because if he approached
Tawan the same way he'd approached Papa and Apinya, and Tawan was the one with the tapes or
the one behind Gambit, then it was game over.

"Did you talk to your father about why he did what he did?"

"He was furious when you got out. Why do you ask?"

"Because it seems like he let me go."

Tawan's frown deepened. "He didn't let you go." He pointed at himself. "Me! I let you go. He was
going to keep us there until he got his way, the fucking old croon. I haven't spoken to him since. I
hope he's dead in a ditch somewhere."

Kinn smirked, remembering that Apinya was in the next building, in the hospital, being treated for
leg wounds that Kinn had just given him.

"What did your father say?" Tawan asked.

"He said he wanted us to mate."

"And?"

"We just got in a fight." Kinn remembered the disbelieving anger on his father's face when he'd
spoken back to him. "First fight in my life." He laughed. "I couldn't take it. He's so fucking
frustrating."

"They're all like that. They've lived dreary, unhappy lives and they think they can control ours.
Fucking lunatic. Do you know, before all this..." Tawan beat his cigarette against the ashtray at the
center of the table. "I was actually considering giving you a chance." He smiled sadly, staring
blankly at the table. "The guy... the person I was seeing, things kind of fell off for us." His face
hardened into anger. "I told Papa about this. I was going to try visiting you. Take you lunch. Get to
know you and all that shit. Impatient asshole."

Carefully, Kinn asked, "You had me at your mercy. If you wanted me, you could have just bitten
me."

Tawan gave Kinn an angry look. "And give him what he wants? Fuck that. I'm an omega. My life
is already fucked. I'm trying to find the best way to survive here. And his best option was to mate
me off to a man who didn't even know me?"

"I'm still a bit perplexed by all of it, though," Kinn said. "Don't you think we got away with it a bit
too easily."

"Got away with what?"

"I was practically sick. I shouldn't have gotten out."

"I heard you had help."

"Yeah. A friend of mine showed up. Your dad is lucky it wasn't Vegas who showed up."

"It was Porsche, right?" Tawan asked. "The actor?"

Kinn couldn't shake the little bit of worry that went through him. "You don't have footage of him,
do you?"
"From the forest?" Tawan asked. "No. But the men were talking about him." Tawan laughed.
"Imagine their surprise when a fucking actor put the moves on them. I told Papa to fire them. He
can't even get his fucking abductions right."

"Since you hate your father so much, you should know," Kinn said. "He's in my custody right now?
Do you want to see?"

As he spoke, he fired off a text to Big to send him a video.

"What?" Tawan asked. "You have my Papa?"

"I wanted to talk to him. Don't worry, he's alive."

"I want to see," he said, sitting up. "Did you hurt him?"

Kinn shrugged. "A little bit."

Tawan laughed, clapping his hands together as he stood up and sat back down. "I'd like to see the
look on his face. See how he likes being abducted."

"I had some questions for him but his answers didn't satisfy me."

"What questions?"

"What else could your father have wanted from me when he abducted me but let me go."

"He didn't let you-"

Taking a chance, Kinn got a little more obvious by saying, "His guards got out of the way as I was
leaving."

The blood drained from Tawan's face as he sat there, minimally frozen in place like he couldn't
move.

"They... they let you go?" he asked, eyes dropping to the ashtray as he tapped the cigarette. "How
did you know? You said you were out of it."

"Porsche saw them."

"Ah!" he said. "Porsche again."

Kinn's phone buzzed. He played the video of Apinya lying in a hospital bed, with his leg in a cast.
As Tawan watched the video, Kinn's phone started vibrating and ringing in Tawan's hand.

When Kinn took back the phone and checked, it was Porsche calling. He hadn't called Kinn in days
and yet he was choosing that moment to call. Kinn was in an important meeting, but he couldn't let
it go to voicemail.

"Please excuse me," he said, getting up and going to a corner as he picked the call. "Hey."

"Pete and Vegas are following a lead. I'm supposed to go with you. Are you free right now?"

"I'm in a meeting."

"Okay. That's fine. I can go alone."

"No," Kinn said immediately. "I'll be done soon. We can... we can go together. Don't go without
me."

"No problem."

The line cut.

When Kinn turned back to Tawan, he was watching Kinn with a peculiar look on his face.

"That's the actor who's "just a friend"?" Tawan asked. "I guess the rumors are true."

As Kinn sat, he asked, "What rumors?"

"Everyone talks about Porsche Kittisawasd being an omega. I just never-"

"Whoa!" Kinn said, raising his hands. "Where did you get that from? He's not an omega."

"Please," Tawan said with a knowing smile. "We all know you only date omegas. And from what
I've just seen, with the way you took the call, all coy and sweaty like a nervous teenager, he's more
than just a friend. You don't have to lie. Your secret is safe with me." He drew a line across his lips
and locked it, before throwing away the key. "I now know why you've been resisting your father's
plans. You already have your own omega."

"Well, this time, it's different. He's not an omega."

"So you're into betas now. Okay. Keep your lover's secret." Tawan's knowing smile disappeared as
he got more serious. "As for the guards who let you go, I can ask. If you do me a favor."

"What?"

"Keep my father in your custody."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Because the guards are loyal to him. Without him around, I can talk to them. Get to the bottom of
it. You know that they let go, but you don't know why. I can find out why."

"Why would you do that for me?"

"Hello?" Tawan asked. "It's not just for you. I was in that room, too. If something else is going on
here, I want to know."

Kinn suspected there was more to it than that. Yeah, Tawan was going to help him. But with
Tawan's father out of the way, Tawan probably planned to push his father out of whatever it was
they had going on, in that family. Judging by how little regard he had for his father's safety, Kinn
figured Apinya was probably safer with the Theerapanyakuls than with his own son.

"I'll be going," Tawan said, getting up as he put out his cigarette. "But just so you, you'll do better
to distance yourself from your father. You're already the leader of your dynasty. You don't need
him. I might be an omega, but I'd be damned if I put myself in a position to be exploited like that,
again."

Kinn shook his head. "I can't do that."

"You're an alpha, Kinn. A very popular one, in the right circles. If you ever want to cut the strings,
give me a call and we can talk."
With a smile and a wink, Tawan sashayed right out the door, leaving Kinn with rattling thoughts in
his head.

It couldn't be that easy. His father was more than just the head of the family. He was... he was
Papa. He was Mae's husband. Uncle Kun's brother. Tankhun and Kim's father. What Tawan was
asking was more than a simple excising of a business rival. Papa was family.

Then again, Kinn had to remember that this same family member had sold him off to the enemy. It
would be foolish to go after Papa alone. But Kinn couldn't help wondering what would happen if
Mae and Taknhun knew what Papa had done.
 The new fool
Chapter Notes

So, we're getting one chapter a day this week :)

Someone was watching him.

Pete didn't know for sure. But ever since his meeting with Porsche, Vegas and Kinn, he got the
sense that someone was following him, watching him, cataloging his every move. His mind kept
going back to the day he was kidnapped. That was when it had all started.

With Wan and his video. It would have been so easy to draw a line from Tawan to Wan, seeing as
their names sounded alike. Pete wanted this to be over so badly that he was slowly beginning to
convince himself that that was enough proof. But then he'd remember that the man they'd let go of,
had run to Tod. And then another voice in his head would remind him that both of them were
probably in it together.

And if they were in it together, Tawan’s father had the resources to put a tail on Pete and Tod had
the resources to hack into public cameras to spy on Pete. In which case, they must already have
known that Pete had flipped and was feeding them fucked information. Which meant that, any day
now, his video was going to be released.

He woke up every morning, checking social media for the video. And with each morning that he
found nothing, the eye on his back seemed to grow stronger and stronger. A whole week after their
meeting in Kinn’s hospital room, Pete hadn’t heard anything. He wondered if he should allow
himself to breathe. If he should calm down and let Vegas and Kinn solve it, just Porsche had said.

Or if he ought to do something, himself. After all, he’d learned pretty quickly in life to depend on
no one but himself. And Kinn. He’d grown to depend on Kinn. But Kinn was angry with him.
There was a chance that Kinn wasn’t doing things in Pete’s best interest.

Not that Pete didn’t deserve it.

After dinner, that evening, as he was on his way back to his room, Vegas called.

“Are you busy?”

“No, not really.”

“I’m following a lead. Would you like to come?”

In twenty minutes, they were stationed outside an abandoned warehouse, perched on the roof,
across the street from the main entrance. Vegas came, armed with a camera and a pair of
binoculars.

“You take this,” he said, handing the binoculars to Pete. “If you see anything sketchy, let me
know.”

While Vegas took pictures of cars that were coming and going, and also pictures of anyone
entering or exiting the warehouse, Pete surveyed the area, extending the binoculars as far as it
could go.

“What are we doing here?” Pete asked.

“Nop heard chatter from two different gangs that were meeting here. Which was strange, on its
own. But the further he looked into it, it wasn’t really the whole gang. It was just one person or a
couple of people from most gangs.” He sat up, dropping the camera for a moment. “Gambit is a
new company. I’ve known from the beginning that we’re dealing with new people. But maybe I
was half right.”

“What do you mean?”

“I monitored Tod this whole week and I’ve got nothing on him and Tawan. They’ve never met.
They don’t do business together and Tawan doesn’t even fit Tod’s type.”

“Right,” Pete agreed. “Alpha business man. Which, Tawan is not.”

“Exactly.”

“But we saw the prisoner go straight to him.”

“Probably the same way the gang members from other gangs are meeting here.”

“You think someone is picking members that already belong to existing gangs?” Pete asked.

“Sounds like it to me,” Vegas replied, holding up his camera and taking more pictures as more
people arrived. “With these pictures, we can know which gangs have been compromised.”

“Wait, so does that mean Tawan is doing this all alone?”

Vegas sighed. “Kinn seems to think Tawan has nothing to do with it. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe
Kinn is right. But right now, I’m not trusting anybody. Even Tod, for all I know. I mean, he
doesn’t have to meet his partner to get the job done.”

True, Pete thought. They could be following the right leads. Or they could have missed the real
mastermind, just because they were following the obvious.

Beside him, Vegas pulled out a packet of suppressants, popped one tablet out and swallowed it.
Pete cringed inwardly, wondering if he should shut the fuck up and mind his business. He knew he
should. He really ought. But before he could get a proper hold on his tongue-

"You had one of those at breakfast," Pete said.

"Yeah, so?" Vegas asked, returning the packet to his pocket as he picked his camera again.

Pete reached over and pressed the camera back down. "You had one during break and one during
lunch. It's barely past dinnertime and you're having another. That's four doses in less than fifteen
hours, Vegas. What's going on?"

"It's nothing."

They'd only known each other for a few months, and in that time, they hadn't always shared the
heaviest of secrets with each other. Pete had been careful not to ask for too much that would set off
warning bells in Vegas' head. But the few times he'd asked, Vegas had been forthcoming. He'd
spoken to Pete in honesty, opening up like he couldn't wait to share his world with Pete. Like he
couldn't wait to have Pete understand whatever it was he was asking about.

"I know you have no reason to trust me-"

"It's not that."

"Then what's going on? Suppressants are three times a day. The rate at which you're taking them,
you'll take at least two more doses before the day runs out."

Vegas' lips trembled as he bit them, a frown appearing on his face. He looked at Pete and for a
second, Pete was sure he saw the same tenderness that used to be in Vegas' eyes when he looked at
Pete, before.

"It's stupid. Ken thinks I'm stupid."

"What is it?"

Vegas sighed. "I was..." he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I was waiting for the cycle break that’s
coming up soon."

"Why?" Pete asked. "You're not in the production. You can have your cycle whenever you want."

Vegas gave Pete a tired, exasperated look. “I was waiting for you, dumbass.”

The insult didn’t stick. If anything, it came out soft and indulgent, almost like a term of
endearment, in the way his eyes lighted, looking right into Pete’s. Too many things were
happening all at once. He was sure Vegas had just said he was postponing his rut, so it could
coincide with Pete’s heat. He had just said… while looking at Pete like that. He’d just said…

Pete’s mouth went dry as his throat nearly clogged up from his heart shooting up from his chest.
Considering what they’d just been through, the fact that Vegas wanted… Vegas was putting
himself through the discomfort of extending his rut, just so they could spend their cycles together.
Pete’s head swarmed with possibilities as they sat there, in the shadow of the boulder, staring into
each other’s eyes.

He wanted to kiss Vegas, but he didn’t know how appropriate that would be. They were in a shaky
place and Pete was being careful. But there Vegas was, offering a kind of permanence that Pete had
never had in his life. He’d never even thought he’d want to mate with someone, let alone, do it with
a member of the mafia. With a man he’d only known a few months.

And yet, here he was, contemplating spending the rest of his life with this man. Giving up all other
possibilities for love by accepting and giving the bite. The bite, oh god, he thought, feeling giddy
and confused at the idea of wanting it. It was such a silly idea. Pete was an omega and a career-
driven actor with a bright future. He’d always shied away from shared cycles because people didn’t
know he was an omega. That was a secret he was going to take to his grave.

He never imagined meeting someone who knew what he was, but wasn’t threatened by the fact
that he was an omega who was also working. Someone who was romantically interested in Pete,
but didn’t treat him as less. Because that was when they acted differently. Pete was a human being.
Pete was a person. Until someone wanted to fuck him and suddenly, he had to know his place.
Even when they thought he was a beta.

None of that had happened with Vegas. Pete couldn’t even look back on their interactions and
pinpoint the moment when Vegas had found out that he was an omega. Because Vegas’ behavior
never changed. Pete was Pete before Vegas knew. Pete was still Pete after.
“Say something,” Vegas said, as worry etched into his face.

“Oh,” Pete said, snapping out of it. “You wanted us to… to mate?”

“What?” Vegas asked, sounding confused. “No. No, we were going to use mouth guards. I just
wanted us to spend the cycle together. Get to know each other and clear the air between us, you
know?”

Mouth guards. Right, Pete thought. The things that alphas and omegas put in their mouths to keep
from mistakenly biting each other. Pete nearly choked as his heart went tumbling down in his
chest. How stupid was he to think that someone like Vegas would want to mate him? A lying,
dishonest, untrustworthy piece of shit like Pete. Of course. He should have known. Vegas just
wanted cycle sex. He wanted a wanton omega in heat who could give him unimaginable pleasure.

He didn’t want forever with Pete.

Pete shivered, feeling like someone had just doused him with cold water.

“You think I’m stupid, too,” Vegas said.

“What? No. Of course not.” He tried to laugh to dislodge the heaviness in his chest. He wished he
could rewind the time to two minutes ago. Before he’d overestimated his value and started
planning a life with a man who didn’t trust him. “You’re not stupid,” he said. “But, you should
know though. I’m not having my cycle during the cycle break.”

“Why not?”

“I’m supposed to be a beta, Vegas. Remember?” he asked. “Wan may have forced me into a heat,
two weeks before camp, but I was going to do it myself, regardless. I can’t have a cycle break
while others are on break. I have to be visible. I have to go to meetings and show my face around
other beta actors and employees. People have to see me moving around during the cycle break or
else they’d start asking questions about me. I’ll get my next heat after the production is done.”

Vegas’ mouth fell open as he smacked his own forehead. “Ken was right. I am stupid. I should
have known.”

“Hey,” Pete laughed, grabbing Vegas’ hands. “Don’t hit yourself.”

“I just thought-”

“I know what you thought. It’s okay.” And without meaning to, his treacherous mouth opened and
said, “If you want, I can visit though. I can come see you during your rut.”

“Yeah,” Vegas said with a little nod. “I’d like that.”

Yeah, Pete thought, smiling even though dread filled his stomach. How could Vegas think himself
to be stupid, when Pete had just committed himself to spending time with a rutting alpha? How
couldn’t he see that Pete was the fool willing to put his life and career on the line for a man who
didn’t trust him?

Spending time alone with Vegas in a rut? What on earth could go wrong?
 The day the one brain cell works

They waited till the meeting was over and took more pictures. Vegas was sure he’d gotten
everyone who entered the building through this entrance. He just wanted to be thorough. He hoped
Kinn and Porsche were just as thorough, at the other entrance. Because they would be totally
fucked if they missed even one person.

Two hours and almost a hundred pictures later, they packed up and started heading back to the
hotel, where they met at Pete and Porsche’s room.

“Did you see any familiar faces?” Vegas asked as soon as they entered the room.

Kinn shook his head. “Maybe we’ll see better now we’re here. The screen was too tiny.”

“Tiny, how? Do you need glasses?”

“Memory card,” Kinn said, holding out his hand as Vegas gave it to him.

The room was dark and Porsche had already set up a projector on his bed that was screened against
the wall. On Pete’s bed, Kinn’s laptop sat, waiting for Kinn to return.

“What…” Pete began. “What’s going on?”

“We’re making notes of the faces we recognize and cataloging the pictures as evidence for their
gang leaders.”

“What makes you think the leaders didn’t send those people to represent them?” Porsche asked. “I
mean, maybe they’re all planning to join up.”

“We’re not the only ones who’ve been hit in the past year. Nop said a lot of lower gangs have been
losing territory, and a lot of the high prestige ones have been losing business deals. Leaders aren’t
happy. They want to know where their leaks are.”

“Come. Sit,” Porsche offered Vegas.

Picture after picture, they marked the number, the face in the picture and the gang they belonged
to. Seeing as Kinn had put in his card first, it was going to take a while to get to Vegas’ card. But
that was okay. They had all night anyway. With Vegas offering commentary, while Porsche
controlled the projector and Kinn took notes, Vegas couldn’t help wondering why Pete was so
quiet.

Took him a moment to remember that Kinn and Pete were still in a weird place. And Kinn was
sitting at the foot of Pete’s bed, while Pete had curled into himself at the head of the bed, placing
his pillows between himself and Kinn like it was some worthy barrier. Wanting to comfort him,
Vegas took off his shoes and slipped behind the barrier with Pete as Pete looked at him, startled.

“Shhh,” he said to Pete before turning back to the projector.

“Don’t do anything funky, over there,” Porsche said. “I know the room is dark and all, but we can
still hear that shit.”

Vegas rolled his eyes as Kinn turned back to look at them with disgust in his face.

“Oh, for fuck sake,” Kinn said, grabbing his laptop and moving to Porsche’s bed. “Seriously, I’m
in the room.”

“Don’t be weird. We’re not doing anything. Pete, were we doing anything?”

“No,” Pete answered, honestly.

“Yeah right,” Porsche said with a scoff.

“Can we get back to the business at hand?” Vegas asked, gesturing at the screen.

Porsche flicked to the next picture and Kinn sat up.

“Wait.”

“What?” Vegas asked.

“I can’t really see the face on that person, but I recognize that green and blue coat. Go back.”

Porsche went to the previous picture, but the person in the green and blue coat was still backing
the camera. So Porsche went back about three more pictures before they found one where the man
was facing the camera, but he wasn’t at the center of the picture.

“Can you zoom in?”

Porsche shifted the focus to the corner where the man was and zoomed in on the picture to reveal
the face.

“Oh wow,” Vegas said, not even bothering to be surprised by what he was seeing.

“Who’s that?” Pete asked.

“It’s-” Vegas began to say as Kinn beat him to it.

“It’s Tawan. I recognized the coat because he was wearing it when I saw him a few hours ago.”

“You saw him today?” Porsche asked, a frown etched in his face.

“It-it wasn’t like that. I wanted to find out what he knows about his father’s activities.”

“I hope you didn’t tell him too much about what we know, given that he’s the fucking
mastermind.”

“Porsche-”

“Please don’t defend him right now.”

“I’m not,” Kinn said, almost sounding like he was pleading. “We know who it is now. We have a
face to put on the issue. I’m not going to defend him.”

“What did he tell you?” Porsche asked. “What did he want?”

“I don’t know. He’s never really asked me for anything.”

“Are you sure?” Vegas asked. “Because if he’s the mastermind, then I get why he sent Pete into
my business.”

“You do?” Pete asked.

“He’s going after gangs. He didn’t need to send someone into the main family because he plans to
marry into it. But he sent you to me.” Vegas turned to Kinn. “We’re family, but we don’t operate
like it.”

“You’re right,” Kinn agreed. “Your father has been adamant about keeping the minor family’s
accounts separate from the main family.”

“We run our own deals, our own territories. Even our allies aren’t always main family allies.”

“You’re like two different gangs with the same name,” Porsche said.

“Exactly. Even if Tawan knew he was going to become Kinn’s omega, there was no guarantee his
power would extend to the minor family.”

“We know what he wanted me to do with you,” Pete said. “But what’s his plan with Kinn been?
He’s been all over the place.”

“Kinn, please try to remember,” Porsche said. “What is the one thing he keeps talking about?”

Kinn shook his head, as his brows furrowed in concentration.

“He asked me to keep his father locked up.”

“What?” Vegas asked, sitting up.

“Yeah,” Kinn said with a shrug. “The councilman is in my basement.”

As Vegas laughed at the absurdity of it all, Pete said, “Is he going to try and frame you for
kidnapping?”

“That won’t help him if he wants Kinn to marry him into the family,” Porsche offered.

“So what’s he been asking for?”

“I think…” he said, still looking unsure. “He’s mentioned my father a few times.”

“How?”

“When we were locked up, he pointed out that Papa knew where I was but did nothing about it.
Then when we had drinks earlier today, he asked me to cut Papa off and take control of the entire
family business.”

Vegas wasn’t sure whether to be pissed or impressed, so he settled on being both. Because Tawan
was a fucking genius.

“He wanted you to cut out the most important person in your life,” Vegas said.

“What?” Kinn asked.

“Think about it. You don’t cough unless you discuss it with your father.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“He’s right,” Porsche said. “You’re an obedient son. You’ve always been an obedient son.”

“If I wanted to marry you and rule alongside you, I wouldn’t want your controlling father anywhere
near our empire,” Vegas said.

“Wait,” Kinn said, turning from the projector to face all of them. “You’re saying he did all that…
abducted me and kept me for a week, only to release me just because he wanted me to hate my
father?”

“It worked, Kinn,” Porsche said. “That day I came to see you at the hospital, right after we got you
back, I heard you speaking to your father in a way I’ve never heard you speaking to him before in
my entire life.”

That was news to Vegas.

“You raised your voice at Uncle Korn?”

“It was a conversation.”

“Your father asked you to take an omega as a mate and you told him no.”

“Fuck, you heard that?” Kinn asked, looking distraught.

“You really told him no,” Vegas asked, wondering where the boldness had come from. Because it
was an unspoken rule. Theerapanyakuls didn’t talk back to their fathers. Ever.

“He was being unreasonable.”

Vegas couldn’t stop his eyes from widening in shock because since when did Kinn talk about his
father like that?

“See?” Porsche said. “Tawan already got what he wanted.”

“He made valid points.”

“I’m not disputing that,” Porsche said. “But if his goal was to sever ties between you and your
father, he’s done well.”

“Why though?” Pete asked.

“Why what?” Vegas asked.

“He’s an omega,” Pete explained. “He had Phi-Kinn tied up and at his mercy. Why didn’t he just
bite him instead of letting him go? Seems a bit convoluted for an omega who could control his
alpha with a single bite.”

Once again, they were back at the same question that had plagued them since that first day at the
hospital. Why hadn’t Tawan bitten Kinn?

Porsche smacked his bed as he sat up with a smile on his face.

“He’s not an omega.”

“What?” Vegas and Pete asked as Kinn looked at Porsche with worried confusion.

“That’s it,” Porsche said.

“That’s a pretty big leap.”

“It never made sense. He was in heat. He couldn’t control himself. Kinn, that’s what you said. If
he had no control, then why didn’t he just bite you? At least, by mistake.”

“Why would he claim to be an omega and lose his job?”

“Because he was coming after you and we all know that Kinn only fucks with omegas.” Porsche
jumped up from his bed. “I’m smart. Look at me,” he said, pointing at himself.

Considering the things they’d figured out about Tawan, it wasn’t so far-fetched to imagine that
he’d hatched such a plan more than a year ago. Because Korn had started putting out feelers for
Kinn’s mate, two years ago. The timeline matched up. He’d planned this whole thing and waited.
If this went off without a hitch, Tawan Apinya would be the king of the Thailand underworld with
a Theerapanyakul alpha on his arm.

“What about his pheromones?” Kinn asked. “He was feverish. He looked dead on his feet. He…”
Kinn hesitated. “How come he was… open… down there? I never saw him prep himself. Not
once.”

“Did he ever go out of sight?” Pete asked. “For more than a few minutes? Because you can prep
yourself and use omega-treated lubricants to trigger an alpha, but also to keep it loose down there.”

Kinn sat, blinking steadily as a look of devastated horror crept into his face.

“What is it?”

“He locked himself in the bathroom for hours.” His voice trembled as he spoke. “He pretended that
he was protecting himself from me and hid in there. The next time the door was opened, he was
smelling like he was in heat, looking like he was in heat.” He looked at Porsche like he wanted to
cry. “He… felt… like he was in heat.”

“Oh Kinn,” Porsche said, getting back on the bed and crawling to Kinn, just as Kinn got up from
the bed.

“It’s not like I’m…” he rubbed his hand over his face. “I know where you’re about to go with this
conversation, Porsche. Let’s not do that, right now. Please. I c-I can’t-”

“Okay,” Porsche agreed, nodding. “Alright. We don’t have to.”

Vegas could see that his cousin was a few seconds from breaking, but they had to push on. They’d
made progress and none of them could leave that room without a proper plane, or else someone
would go and do something to ruin everything.

“You have to play along, Phi-Kinn,” Vegas said.

“The fuck?” Porsche replied, eyes snapping to Vegas with anger. “He’s not going anywhere near
that fucking snake.”

“I have to,” Kinn said, slowly sitting back on the bed.

“Listen to me-” Porsche said.

“He has Pete’s video,” Kinn said.

Porsche’s mouth shut, immediately.

“Phi-Kinn has to stay away from his father and meet with Tawan whenever he calls until we can
find a way to get rid of that video and every single copy of it.”

“Until then, Kinn has to… he has to be around his… he has to talk to Tawan like nothing
happened?” Porsche asked, horrified.

“It sounds bad, Porsche. But it’s what we’ve got.”

“I’m so sorry, Phi-Kinn,” Pete said, his eyes glistening with tears as he looked at Kinn. “Because
of me-”

“Don’t even say that,” Kinn said. “You’re my prized jewel, remember?” Kinn tried to sound
lighthearted, but it came out dry and pained.

“I’m so sorry,” Pete repeated.

Vegas didn’t know what to do, so he pulled Pete into his arms, rocking him slowly as Kinn
shrugged.

“It’s fine.” He scoffed. “When this is all over, I’ll get my lick back. Don’t worry about me.”

Vegas was utterly relieved to hear that. Because if they were going into battle, he didn’t want a
traumatized alpha at the helm. He wanted a pissed one that was out for vengeance. And judging by
the look in Kinn’s eyes, Vegas was grateful that he was going to get the latter.
 The wrong day to take Tod lightly

With the cycle break around the corner, rehearsals were running later than usual. Which was just
fine for Porsche. He’d agreed to appear on a bunch of omega panels during the two-week break.
He knew he might not have time for personal practice, so he took all the practice he could get. If
the director wanted them to stay behind, he stayed behind. There was work to be done and Porsche
was happy to do it.

Things with Kinn had gotten to a calm place where nothing was happening. They worked together.
They greeted each other in the hallway. They went their different ways. Kinn wasn’t pressuring
him for anything and Porsche was glad for the peace of mind.

Glad, wasn’t exactly the word. Content? Satisfied?

Distraught? Maybe a little. Satisfied? Not so much. His feelings for Kinn were the most
complicated he’d ever felt and because they’d lingered for more than a decade. There was no way
they were disappearing now that there were unforgettable memories involved. Memories that even
Kinn was willing to submit to Porsche for.

I’ll be whatever you want.

Porsche sighed and tossed his wet towel on the chair. He wanted a partner. Not a fucking pet. How
could Kinn not understand that? Porsche wasn’t going to push Kinn to get help but, at the same
time, Porsche wasn’t going to settle for a man who was anything less than Kinn.

Kinn was fiery. Kinn was strong. Kinn was opinionated. Kinn was one of the most alpha-ly alphas
Porsche had ever met. As an alpha himself, Porsche had never really been intimidated by those
qualities in Kinn. Not like he was with other people. Because up until recently, Kinn had never
used those qualities like a weapon against Porsche. Even when they were younger. He would rather
have Porsche at his back, than have Porsche in his crosshairs. He never lied to Porsche, never
underestimated him, never tried to change him. Kinn was just… Kinn.

And if he was planning to get rid of all that, just so he could fit into a box for Porsche’s sake, then
Porsche would rather be alone.

“Hey, are you even listening?”

Porsche turned to his phone that was on the table, where he’d left a call on speaker. He’d forgotten
about it, just thinking about Kinn.

“I need to go to bed, Tod,” Porsche said.

“You still haven’t given me an answer.”

Porsche looked down at the phone, recalling what they’d been talking about. What Tod was
requesting.

“I’m not going to become a Setely Alpha.”

“For the billionth time, I’m not asking you to.”

“Seems like it,” Porsche said.

Tod sighed. “Look, I don’t want to bite you. Someone brought a proposal before one of my alphas
and I thought of you.”

“Right,” Porsche said, disbelievingly. “Because I’m the only omega rights activist you know.”

“It will be perfect for you.”

“I don’t want your money, Tod.”

“Think about it,” Tod said. “You spend all this time asking omegas to believe and advocating for
them, but I’m giving you a chance to head off an outreach program that will actually help a lot of
them.”

“With a short leash attached to it, I’m sure.”

“Hey,” Tod said, sounding a little hurt.

“What do you want from me?”

Tod went silent. Just like every other time. If there was anything that could shut his smug ass up, it
was that question. For some reason, he didn’t want to mention it or say what it was and it was
biting at Porsche’s seams not knowing what he was offering. Or if he was going to have to offer
something incredibly unattainable in the future.

It wasn’t as if Porsche could shove him off and ignore him. They still had no definite proof of
where he stood with Tawan. Or if he even knew Tawan at all. Erring on the side of caution,
Porsche opted to keep things normal between them. Best not to do all that planning, only for Tawan
to be tipped off because Porsche let his guard down with Tod.

“I would have thought you’d have figured out that by now,” Tod said, voice lacking his usual
amusement.

“I’m not a mind reader.”

“I haven’t asked you for anything.”

“Which is even scarier.”

“What are you so afraid of?”

“Look,” Porsche said, leaning on the table. “I’m about to go to bed. If you can’t be serious about
this-”

“Do you want me to draw up a contract for our agreement, just so you feel safe?”

Porsche felt like he was going crazy.

“What fucking agreement? I don’t even know what my side of the contract is.”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because if I told you, it would lose its value.”

Porsche’s brain twirled in his head as he tried to figure it out again. What was he offering that he
had no idea about? Conversation? Tod could get that in a million other places. What the fuck did
that weirdo want?

“Heh,” Tod said, his voice coming back alive again. “I’ve rendered Porsche speechless twice
today. I think I’ve hit a record.”

Porsche rolled his eyes. “I’m hanging up now.”

“Think about the outreach program.”

“Good night, Tod.”

He cut the call, just as a text came in from Kinn.

-Can you come to the hotel bar?

Porsche frowned and replied.

-Now?

Another text came in.

-I need to talk to you.

Wondering why Kinn didn’t just come to his room, Porsche started to get dressed when his phone
rang. It was Tod again.

“I see you just got a text from Kinn, but-”

“Fucking hell, can you not be creepy for one second?”

“Porsche, that text didn’t-”

“Leave me alone, Tod.”

“Kinn didn’t send-”

Porsche cut the call and tossed his phone away. One of these days, he was going to be pushed far
enough that he deleted Tod’s number and flashed his entire phone to get rid of bugs. Because how
was he an adult, living under constant surveillance like that? Fucking Tod.

Happy to be reminded that Tod was a creep, Porsche left his phone behind as he went down to the
bar. It was ringing as Tod kept calling, but Porsche wasn’t in the mood for him. He had to prepare
himself mentally for whatever Kinn was going to say. After so long of nothing happening,
something was finally going to happen.

On the way, he noted how much more security was placed on the wing that Ohmovit had paid for,
for the cast and crew. After the incident with the brick that went through Porsche’s window,
months ago, the production had taken those rooms, too. Pete had confessed to being behind the
brick, but Ohmovit didn’t know that.

There were guards in the elevators and guards on every floor. For the safety of the cast, but
probably more for the fact that Kinn had raked up and down for better security.

But the bar was a more public place. Ohmovit’s security didn’t cover it. Porsche was going to have
be satisfied with the security that the hotel had hired. Besides, he had a feeling that Kinn wanted to
meet in a public place. To avoid either of them getting caught up in the moment and forgetting
what they’d actually come to discuss.

He was barely two seconds at the bar when a waiter asked him to follow to one of the private
rooms. Which kind of defeated the purpose of the visit if it was to meet in a public place.

Or maybe Kinn just wanted a date. Which was such a bad, bad, bad idea. They were in two
different places. They wanted two different things. If the date happened and… certain things
happened, they would only be taking steps back. No steps forward.

When the waiter stopped at the door, Porsche hesitated, wondering if he should just turn around,
go back and have the conversation on the phone just to keep things safe.

“He’s waiting, Sir,” the waiter said.

Hating himself for letting curiosity get the best of him, Porsche entered the room. It was a small,
private room with a table for two at the center. There was a minibar stationed on a shelf above their
heads, with a trolley and platters for food.

But there was no food, and the table wasn’t even set.

“Kinn?” Porsche asked, as the door gently closed behind him.

When he tried to turn, he felt an arm circle across his shoulder. Hating himself for melting into it,
Porsche leaned back against Kinn as the cologne filtered into his nose. The body behind him, the
smell… it wasn’t Kinn.

But before he could react, he was stabbed with a needle to the neck.

Porsche pushed his assailant away, knocked over a chair as he shuffled backwards to get away. He
felt around his neck where the needle had punctured, noting the bite of the needle.

“Wha-?” he began to ask as his tongue went heavy.

“Shhhh,” the tall, slim man before him said. He was dressed in a blue shirt, black pants and black
designer shoes. Expensive. Rich. The kind of person who moved around with… the door to the
room opened and two bodyguards entered.

Porsche gasped as his knees gave out beneath him.

“Don’t… don…” he couldn’t feel his tongue. Even his fingers were starting to go numb. “Help…”

“Take it easy,” the man said, coming closer as Porsche's body continued to shut down. The man
got to Porsche, just before his head smashed into the floor. Catching Porsche, he gently laid him
down on the ground, kneeling before Porsche and staring down at him. “This will all be over really
quickly.”

Tawan. The man was Tawan. Kinn and Vegas were busy running around town, trying to court
support from other gangs in order to oust him and yet, here he was, waltzing into the Graham Blitz
Hotel like he was just any other guest.

“You’re not my enemy,” Tawan said solemnly “Because you see, personally, I have nothing
against omegas in the workplace. In fact, I’m an ally.” He raised a stiff fist.

He unbuttoned Porsche’s shirt, pulling the sleeve off his shoulder.

“I don’t want to make your life hard for you. I promise. The drug will wear off in about five
minutes and I’ll let you go.” He sat back on his heels and looked at his men. “Where is he?”

One of them left the room.

“Soon, you’ll be able to move again. I mean you no harm. I just need your help with something.”

Porsche blinked as his eyes filled with tears. Because Tawan was speaking so calmly that Porsche
couldn’t remember feeling as scared as he was. Unable to move, unable to defend himself, Porsche
stared up at Tawan through tear-blurred eyes. Even though Tawan said the drug would wear off
soon, he had no idea what Tawan wanted to do in the five minutes it would take the drug to run its
course. He couldn’t remember feeling this way, even when people were shooting at him.

The door opened and the guard came in with another man. He was wearing a green hoodie, a pair
of jeans and sneakers. He had the hood up, but Porsche could see how pale he was, with bloodshot
eyes that drooped nearly to the point of closing.

“Francis, here,” Tawan said, motioning for the man to kneel opposite him, on Porsche’s other side,
where his shoulder was laid bare. “I spent months planning how to get rid of his father, only for
you to come traipsing in with your pretty face and your omega pheromones,” he said. He looked at
Francis, the dead-looking man. “You can go ahead and do it.”

Do what? Porsche thought.

“Just like that?” Francis asked.

“What do you want?” Tawan asked. “A bed full of roses?”

“He doesn’t smell like an omega.”

I’m not an omega.

“He’s on suppressants.”

The man bent close, opening his mouth as he revealed two, sharp, glinting mating teeth. Porsche’s
eyes widened as he fought his entire body to move. He needed to get out of there. This man was
going to bite him. If Tawan was doing this, then it was safe to say that none of this was in
Porsche’s best interest.

Try as he might, his body wouldn’t budge. Rather, it remained in place as the man got closer and
closer and closer till he dug his teeth into Porsche’s flesh. The pain that shot through his body was
nothing like he’d ever prepared for. At least, when Kinn had bitten Porsche, he’d prepared his
mind for it, he’d braced for it and even though it had hurt like a mother fucker, it was Kinn.
Somehow, Porsche’s mind had accepted that. The painkillers and hormone balancers that they’d
pumped him with at the hospital had helped keep him from fainting. But the pain, the memory of
the pain, had remained.

This time, Porsche wanted to yell and scream because it just kept getting worse and worse. By the
time he pulled away, Porsche’s eyes were swimming and he had a migraine. He could feel his arms
and some fingers, so he slowly raised them to his head, as he turned on his side. Groaning, he felt
the blood from his shoulder slipping down into his shirt.

“Porsche,” Tawan said, trying to turn Porsche back, but Porsche pulled away. He crawled
backwards, moving towards the wall. Anything to put some space between.
“Tell him to stay.”

“Stay where you are,” Francis said.

Immediately, Porsche froze in place.

Not because he was influenced by a mating compulsion. But because he suddenly realized what
was going on. Tawan, for some reason, believed that Porsche was an omega. So he’d gotten a
rutting alpha to bite him so that he could control Porsche. Which meant that if Porsche didn’t
comply, they were going to realize that he was a beta. Or worse still, an alpha. In which case, they
could keep him till they found an omega to bite him.

“Tell him not to tell anyone about this,” Tawan said.

“You cannot tell anyone about this,” Francis repeated to Porsche.

“When people ask, he should say he didn’t see the face of the person who bit him.”

“When…” Francis cleared his throat. “When people ask, say you never saw my face.”

“You can never speak of or communicate in any way, anything that happened here today.”

“Did you hear what he said?” he asked Porsche.

Porsche nodded.

“Do that.”

Porsche nodded again.

“Ha,” Tawan said, standing up with a satisfied smile. “That went smoother than I anticipated.”

“Can I go now?” Francis asked.

Tawan waved him away. On his way out, the bodyguards handed him a duffle bag and Porsche
didn’t have to think too hard to know what was in that bag.

“Okay then, let’s go,” Tawan said, getting to his feet.

“Wha-” Porsche began to say as one of the guards pulled his shirt completely off his body. “What
are you doing?”

“Bring him.”

“Where are you- you said you’d let me go.”

“I’m letting you go.”

The men, who’d just worn masks over their own faces, gagged Porsche with his shirt and cuffed
his hands behind his back as they dragged him into the corridor. Instead of going out the front, they
took him through the back, out the service exit, pulling him along as his feet dragged behind them.
He was taken to the front of the hotel building where a bunch of reporters were waiting. Once they
got there, they untied the gag from Porsche’s mouth, uncuffed his hands and pushed him into view
of the reporters.

“Look,” one of Tawan’s guards shouted. “It’s Porsche Kittisawasd.”

And to Porsche’s horror, as he lay there on the ground, shirtless, he heard the reporters murmur
about him as they rushed in his direction. Rolling onto his stomach, he tried to cover up. He tried to
hide. But it was futile. His hands weren’t fast enough. His senses reeled from being pushed, not to
mention the flashes from cameras.

In all that flurry of activity, Porsche cried, realizing that he wasn’t able to hide the obvious mating
bite on his shoulder.

A bite that a “beta” like him was not supposed to have.

 The latest ally
Chapter Notes

Thanks to -27vampyresinhermind and Sabiha- I was able to refocus some plot points
in this chapter that would have been, otherwise, glazed over.

Kinn was across town when he got the news. One moment, his phone was quiet, the next, it was
blowing up with alerts about Porsche on social media. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
Porsche, shirtless, on the street, with a mating bite on his shoulder. There were multiple videos
from multiple angles. Some of them were up close, camera lights flashing in Porsche’s eyes as he
stumbled to try to get away, looking disoriented and scared.

It didn’t take long before Ohmovit guards were storming the area, pulling Porsche from their grasp
and whisking him back into the building. Porsche was safe, but the damage was already done.

When he got to the hotel, most of the cast and crew were in the hallway, whispering to each other
as security tried to cordon off Porsche’s floor. As Kinn moved, they gave way for him, but it was
obvious that others weren’t afforded the same courtesy. Beyond the elevator, Ohmovit guards were
gone and in their place was a team of men that looked suspiciously like private security. The kind
that carried concealed weapons.

The men lined the walls leading up to Porsche’s room, watching Kinn warily, the closer he got.
Across from Kinn, on the other side of the hallway, Tay, Tankhun, the director of “Overheat” and
the CEO of Ohmovit were in a hushed conversation, so heated that they didn’t even see Kinn pass.

As soon as he barged into Porsche’s room, he was met with an almost regular tiny group of people.
Porsche was in bed with a duvet wrapped around his shoulders. Tod was seated at the desk while
Pete was in the opposite corner, curled up in a ball, scrolling through his phone. Vegas was also on
the phone, looking just as agitated as everyone else.

“Porsche,” Kinn said as soon as he entered, climbing into bed with him. Kinn was grateful that
Porsche didn’t pull away or resist him because he just needed to hold him. To know that Porsche
was okay. He needed to be sure that Porsche was present before he could think of anything else.
“Oh god,” Kinn whispered, kissing the top of Porsche’s head as he squeezed him tight. “What
happened?”

“Someone used a clone of your phone to lure him to the downstairs bar,” Tod said. “By the time I
could get in contact with security, he was already outside the building.”

“It was an alpha’s bite. I’m fine,” Porsche said. His nose was red and covered in blisters that he
normally got from tissues. “I swear. They’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

There couldn’t be a bigger deal than this for someone like Porsche.

“What are our options?” Kinn asked, when Vegas finished his phone call.

But Vegas didn’t reply. Instead, he just sat on Pete’s bed, his shoulders tense and rigid, as he
clenched his phone.
“The Cycle Civics Board is going to request a public presentation,” Tod said.

“Fuck,” Kinn said. He'd known this was where it was going the moment he saw that bite on social
media.

“People are going to want confirmation that he’s not an omega," Tod explained.

“Anyone could have been bitten,” Pete said. “Lots of people bite betas during sex. At worst,
Porsche has a case for sexual assault.”

“But it’s Porsche,” Tod replied. “He has a history-”

“A history of what?” Vegas asked, voice quiet with controlled rage. When he looked up at Tod, his
eyes were red rimmed like he was seconds away from crying. Or screaming. Or shooting someone.
“Hmm?”

Tod looked back at Vegas. “I’m not the enemy here.”

“I asked Ohmovit to increase security,” Vegas said.

“And they did.”

“Not everywhere.”

“This is someone else’ hotel,” Tod explained. “Ohmovit couldn’t just station armed guards
anywhere they like.”

“Sure they could,” Vegas said with a shrug.

“How?”

“Threaten physical violence?” Vegas suggested. “Blackmail? Anything to get the hotel to fucking
listen.”

“Vegas,” Kinn said, trying to calm him before things escalated.

“If you can’t protect the artists, then Porsche is better off walking away from “Overheat”.”

“Vegas!” This time, it was Porsche who spoke.

“What does it matter?” Tod asked. “He’s an alpha.”

“I’ll do the public presentation,” Porsche offered.

“That’s not the fucking point,” Vegas screamed. “Last time, someone tossed a brick through his
window. Regardless of the fact that I know who did it, this is the second time he’s been attacked. A
public presentation isn’t going to protect him if Ohmovit can’t get their shit together.”

“What’s the solution then?”

“Let me bring in more guards to-”

“Absolutely not,” Tod said, shaking his head. “I can’t afford to have thugs running around the
same hotel where one of my alphas is doing business.”

Vegas smiled and bit his lips. Then he raised the bottom of his pants, slipped out his gun and
pointed it at Tod. Porsche and Kinn sat up as Pete stood in the corner.

“Vegas,” Kinn said. “Don’t be fucking stupid.”

“I wonder how good it would feel for your people if I shot you… if I took you somewhere and just
left you there. Out of their reach.”

Vegas got up, bringing the gun closer to Tod who remained in his seat, staring up at Vegas with a
blank look on his face.

“Put the gun down,” Porsche said.

“People could get hurt and you’re talking about your company’s fucking image?”

The door to the room opened as Tod’s guards came flooding in with their guns pointed at Vegas.

“Hey,” Kinn said, letting go of Porsche as he jumped between Vegas’ back and the armed guards.
“Let’s all keep our heads cool.”

“Drop the gun,” one of the guards said. “Drop it or we’ll shoot.”

“Vegas, we can talk without guns,” Kinn informed his cousin.

“Tod,” Porsche said. “Tell your men to stand down.”

“I think you’d want to tell Vegas to drop his gun first,” Tod said.

“Tell them to stand down,” Porsche repeated. “Now!”

Tod looked at Porsche, as uncertainty creeped into his face. He must have seen something there
because he waved at his men.

“Wait outside,” Tod said.

“Sir?” the closest guard said.

“Go!” he commanded, as the guards reluctantly walked out of the room, leaving their boss with
Vegas still pointing a gun at his face.

Without waiting for things to escalate, Kinn turned around and placed his hand on Vegas’ hand,
slowly pressing the gun down. As he did, he couldn’t help looking between Tod and Porsche,
wondering how Porsche had just asked… no, commanded Tod to send his men out.

And Tod had obeyed.

“Now, can we have a civil conversation without you being an idiot,” Porsche said, throwing one of
his pillows at Vegas’ head.

“What the fuck?” Vegas asked, eyes flashing in anger.

“Cut it out,” Porsche said, not backing down.

“Vegas,” Pete said softly, taking him by the hand as Vegas looked down sharply and then slowly
deflated as soon as he saw who was talking to him. “Being angry won’t solve anything.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but he ended up letting Pete pull him back to sit down.
“For someone so obsessed with Porsche,” Vegas said. “You don’t seem all that invested in his
safety.”

“He’ll be safe if he stays within Ohmovit cordoned areas,” Tod replied.

“How convenient for you that Tawan just happened to utilize that information.”

Tawan did this, Kinn thought, feeling bile rise in his throat at the mere thought of that despicable
man. He could already see his twisted thought process. He’d gotten the idea of Porsche being an
omega from that one phone call that happened during their meeting. And the first thing he’d done
was get an alpha to bite Porsche? Just so that Porsche wouldn’t want Kinn anymore? Just so that
Kinn would be so distraught that he came running into Tawan’s arms?

Fat chance now.

“Who the fuck is Tawan?” Tod asked.

“Don’t pretend like you’re not working with the lunatic who attacked Porsche.”

Tod frowned, looking from Vegas to Porsche.

“The person who attacked Porsche thought he was an omega,” he said. “I’ve known Porsche was
an alpha since he got on this production. Don’t you think that’s useful information I would have
shared with someone I was working with?”

Kinn had to admit, that was a solid point.

“Still doesn’t explain why you’re everywhere all of a sudden,” Vegas continued. “What do you
want from him? Are you going after my family? Is that why you want him because you couldn’t
get me?”

Tod scoffed. “You don’t qualify for what I want in an alpha.”

“But you wanted my brother.”

“Your brother has clean hands. He doesn’t have a record. He’s never killed or abducted anybody. If
I wanted your brother it would be because I was taking him out of your family. Not because I was
trying to join it in any way.”

When Vegas bounced off the bed like he was about to punch Tod, Kinn got between them.

“Easy,” Kinn said. Because even though Tod didn’t seem to understand the danger he was in, by
poking at Vegas, Vegas could cause him serious harm if he got his hands on Tod. Considering that
Kinn had only one handgun and Vegas had, at most two, they would be no match for the battalion
of armed men right outside the door. “He’s not saying anything we haven’t heard before. Calm
down.”

“We still don’t know what he wants,” Vegas said. “We can’t trust him.”

Kinn sighed and faced Tod. “We need more security.”

“Anymore and this place would be a barracks.”

“At least allow us to give them personal guards,” Kinn said.

Tod looked at Porsche again. “I can send one of my men.”

“Nope,” Vegas shook his head. “A Theerapanyakul guard or nothing.”

“Tod,” Porsche said. “He’s not asking for much.”

“Fine. You can give them a guard each,” Tod said. “But back to the original issue. With Porsche’s
history, everyone quickly assumes he’s an omega the moment anything cycle related happens.”

“Maybe we can get in front of this?” Pete said. “Find a way where he doesn’t have to do the
presentation?”

Tod shook his head. “If Ohmovit wants a smooth production, we’ll have to comply.”

“And if we fight it, it will only make it seem more like I’m an omega.”

“Exactly,” Tod agreed. “If this was someone else, it could have been ignored. But Porsche? His
entire career is littered with omega rumors. It’s been that way for years. It was only a matter of
time before something triggered a public presentation.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m an alpha.”

“Good for you. Good for Ohmovit. Good for “Overheat.” Hurray.” Tod picked up his coat from
the back of the chair as he began to put it on.

Kinn wasn’t comfortable with any of it, but the sooner they put this behind them, the sooner they
could move on with the show.

“Just let us know whenever they schedule the presentation,” Kinn said.

“Will do,” Tod nodded. “I’m glad you’re safe, Porsche.”

As he walked out, Kinn followed him, hoping to be courteous since Vegas was so determined to
burn that bridge. But Kinn didn’t think he could be so abrasive towards Tod anymore. Especially
since he had nothing to do with Tawan. Especially since he’d helped them, not once, but twice
now. The way Kinn saw it, his family might not be the kind that Tod got in business with, but
thinking as a leader who was about to break away from his father, Kinn understood that it was time
for him to start forming his own bonds. Making his own alliances.

People didn’t do that by pointing guns at powerful men.

“I didn't get a chance to say this,” Kinn said, once Tod was out the door. “But thank you for
coming to get me.”

“It was nothing,” Tod said. “I’m sure you’d do the same for me.”

With a slight salute, he headed down the hallway as his guards followed him.

When Kinn returned to the room, Pete said, “I don’t want to alarm you, but Tawan thinks Porsche
is silent about it and so he’s going to expect Porsche to avoid Kinn because of the bite.”

“The plan was to play along,” Kinn said. “If that’s what he expects, then that’s what we’ll do.”

Porsche frowned.

“Once the public presentation happens, he’ll know that Porsche is an alpha.”

Shit, Kinn thought as he closed his eyes. They were never going to catch a fucking break.
“What?” Porsche asked. “What is it?”

“If he knows you’re an alpha, then he’ll know the bite didn’t work and that you told Kinn
everything,” Pete said as Vegas and Porsche wore identical looks of worried shock. “The moment
he knows Porsche could have exposed him, he’s going to have nothing to lose,” Pete said, voice
shaking with emotion. “He’s going to release my tape and expose me to the whole world.”

And fuck! Fuck! FUCK!

When Kinn got his hands on Tawan, he was going to twist his neck till the entire thing popped
right off his body.
 The internet, as usual
Chapter Notes

Final chapter for the week... or maybe a while.

Hiding in the bathroom, with the lights off, except for the glare on his phone, Pete read threads and
threads of comments on social media. He’d known what he’d find. He’d known what the internet
would say about Porsche. And yet, he couldn’t resist.

-he’s always been a weak actor

-god knows how many directors he fucked just to get jobs

-think of the distraction

-they belong at home

-they should know their place

-they should fire him, they should sue, he’s putting the entire Overheat production in jeopardy

-what kind of company didn’t do their due diligence before hiring?

-fucking omegas

A nightmare to imagine that one day, it would be Pete’s name in Porsche’s place, as people pulled
up his history, tearing it apart simply because they’d learned he had a different Greek alphabet on
his national ID than they’d originally thought. The awards wouldn’t matter. His work ethic
wouldn’t matter. The public image he’d carefully curated for the last eight years would mean
exactly nothing.

And he wouldn’t have the insurance of being able to prove the public wrong when they eventually
found out that he was an alpha. Because he wasn’t.

Crying quietly, Pete continued to read, latching on to the few posts that were in support of
Porsche… as an omega. Because there was overwhelming support. Porsche was a star with a rabid
fanbase. They were just as noisy as the haters, if not more so.

But they had chosen to mount their support on the premise that their favorite actor was not an
omega. He was a beta. That was their defense. That the haters would regret it when the public
presentation revealed Porsche to be a beta. That the haters were foolish for believing unfounded
theories online. That when the truth was exposed, a lot of people’s credibility would be called into
question simply because they dared to imagine that Porsche Kittisawasd could ever be an omega.

Even his fans spoke like being an omega was a great sin.

Which exposed the reality that his fans would have abandoned him if Porsche turned out to be an
omega. Haters and fans, uniting under their disbelief of and hate for an omega being a super star.
The few people who were in support of the idea of Porsche being an omega were attacked by both
parties. They were attacked by haters for supporting an omega in the workplace. They were
attacked by fans for daring to claim that Porsche had deceived them for so long.

And with every comment, a little piece of Pete died.

“Pete?”

He looked up, to find the bathroom door open, with Kinn’s silhouette standing there. He’d been so
engrossed in his phone that he hadn’t heard Kinn knock. When Kinn switched on the light, Pete
was so dumbstruck that he didn’t have time to compose himself or wipe his face or anything. The
moment Kinn saw him, he switched the lights back off.

“Sorry,” he said.

“It’s fine,” Pete said, sniffing and locking his phone.

“Can I come and sit with you?” Kinn asked, entering and shutting the door gently.

Pete shrugged, wondering if Kinn could see the shrug. Honestly, he couldn’t even bring himself to
care. He’d barely cared for anything else in his life. His acting was everything. He’d worked hard
to get to where he was. Now, it was all just going to wash away because some entitled prick felt he
was owed Kinn’s affection and the territories that came with it. What was Pete but collateral
damage in the grand scheme of things?

Kinn sat on the bathtub.

“What did Phi-Tankhun say?” Pete asked.

“Nothing,” Kinn replied.

Pete chuckled as his eyes watered. Even Tankhun knew it was hopeless to try and salvage the
situation. When he’d come in and demanded the full truth, Pete had left the room. He was tired of
hearing about it. He was tired of talking about it. He was tired of getting to the point where people
realized that he was fucked, either way. Because Vegas and Kinn were going to get Tawan. That
was a given.

The uncertainty was whether Pete would still be an actor when that happened. And if someone like
Tankhun who always had something to say, had said nothing, then Pete knew there was nothing
they’d be able to do.

“We’ll find Tawan.”

“No one even cares that Porsche might be an omega,” Pete said, unlocking his phone again.
“That’s not a good outcome for any of them. Something that we can’t even control gets to control
our lives for ever because the world is a fucked up place.”

“You’ll get through this.”

“Be serious,” Pete said, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. “As soon as I’m outed,
nobody will hire me.”

“I’ll hire you.”

“You’re a talent agency, not a production company.”

“Who says I can’t be both?” Kinn asked. “Who says I can’t change my focus? I have thirteen
fucking artists. You think I can’t put up my own productions and source for funds?”

“This isn’t funny, Phi-Kinn.”

“Do I sound like I’m joking?” Kinn asked, getting up and switching on the lights. “Look at me. Do
you think this is a joke to me?”

He didn’t look like he was joking. He looked like he’d first looked when he’d tried to recruit Pete
from a prison stage performance, nine years ago. Pete had thought he was joking, but when he was
released, his belongings included a business card that hadn’t been there when he’d been
incarcerated.

“People won’t fund omega-lead projects.”

“Says who?”

“Your other artists will leave.”

“Good riddance.”

“Phi-Kinn!” Pete said, frustrated.

“You’re not giving up. If “Overheat” wants to fire you, that’s their loss. But you’re not leaving my
company and you're not stopping your acting.”

“What about the free labor laws?”

“They’re there for the benefit of the company. Guess what? I’m the company, Pete.”

Pete shook his head and buried it between his knees. Kinn was a determined man. Pete knew this.
But his determination was nothing in comparison to what the world was ready to see. It wasn’t
going to be sunshine and rainbows. People who’d previously hired Pete without blinking an eye
were going to scrutinize his projects, question his accolades and wonder if he’d fucked his way to
the top.

All that was going to be multiplied by the fact that he was fronted by his primary company. Not by
the objective choices of actual production houses. And by the time other artists who didn’t want
too much scandal vacated the company, the only people who would remain were people with
failing careers and other omegas who’d sought out the company desperately, seeking shelter
because the company was protecting Pete.

In a matter of time, they were going to sink to the bottom of the ocean and become nothing but a
statistic in Thai history.

No. If that video ever came out, Pete was going to resign. Because fuck it if he ruined other
people’s lives. He knew he’d be pissed if he was an innocent beta who had to be dragged down
because an outed omega was in the same company. Why put others through that?

“Hey,” Kinn said, squatting in front of him. “I know what you’re thinking-”

“I might not even get to finish “Overheat”,” he said, voice shaking.

“Fuck them if they don’t keep you till the end.”

“I was really looking forward to it.”

“Stop thinking like this. We’re going to find Tawan. We’re going to handle it. This will all be
fine.”

Pete didn’t bother arguing with him. It was pointless. He was done for. No need to talk about it
because he was just. So. Tired.

And nothing Kinn said was going to change any of that.

***

Rehearsal, the next day, was as grating as nails on a board.

Tem and Time spent all the time they weren’t the ones acting, sitting with Pete and Porsche. They
didn’t ask. They didn't talk about it. They didn’t seem to want to know. Some of the cast were
courteous enough to force some interaction with Porsche, as if to make some statement that they
weren’t bigoted, but Pete could see through it.

Just in case Porsche turned out to be a beta, they didn't want any bad blood with him or Vegas.

But there were those from the cast and crew who steered clear, like Porsche was going to burst into
a heat at any moment. From the controlled expressions to the wide berth, Pete could tell that if
Porsche were any other actor, if Porsche wasn’t from an agency where the CEO had questionable
means, he would have received more obvious reactions.

The only person who remained the same was the director. Probably because he knew Porsche was
an alpha. It was in Porsche’s contract. He wasn’t going to learn anything new about Porsche that he
hadn’t known since the first day.

Pete envied Porsche almost to the point of resentment.

With the public presentation scheduled to be the following Friday, Porsche only had about eight
days of this weirdness before it was all shoved to the back of people’s minds. Before it was
replaced by vigorous attraction the moment they learned of his alpha status. Eight days. And then
nothing but more love.

During lunch one day, when Porsche sat beside Pete, Pete had to resist the urge to shift away. He
hadn’t meant to be, but he knew he was keeping his distance and Porsche could feel it.

“Can I have your eggs?” Porsche asked, a worried, plastered smile on his face.

Pete picked the two eggs out of his place and put them in Porsche’s.

“Thanks,” Porsche said, pushing his vegetables into Pete’s plate. “Are we…” he began. “Are you
okay?”

“We’re fine,” Pete said.

“Because lately things have felt weird.”

“I don’t blame you,” Pete said, dropping his spoon and looking at Porsche. “None of this is your
fault. I mean, you wear your heart on your sleeve which tells me that you grew up in an
unrestricted home. You have parents who worship the ground you walk on. You went to acting
school, got fighting lessons. You make friends easily. The first time you made eyes at the guy you
liked, he fell in love with you. And now,” Pete said, taking a breath. “Now, you’re an alpha.”
Porsche opened his mouth and closed it, looking like he was unsure what to say.

“I don’t blame you for any of that. In my head, I know none of this is your fault. You’ve had a
good life. You’ll probably always have a good life. The world isn’t fair.” Pete could feel his eyes
brimming so he blinked the tears away. “I know that. And I’m so, so sorry for hating you for it.”

“Pete, I-”

“None of this is your fault, Porsche,” Pete said, shaking his head. “But I just need… I need a
moment to process what I’m going through. Okay?”

Porsche frowned, pressing his lips together like he had so much to say. But he ended up just saying,
“Okay. Take your time.”

And for the rest of lunch that day, they just sat in silence, each man with nothing but his thoughts
to keep him company.

***

Pete counted down the days to Porsche's public presentation like it was a ticking time bomb.
Which it totally was. He tried his best to focus on his work, but there were moments when he knew
it was all pointless. Eventually, it was all going to come out and then Ohmovit would have to
choose whether Pete was worth the trouble or if they’d rather move on to someone else. After all,
there was a perfectly good understudy just waiting to take over, considering that the show was to
run for four weekends of two days each.

They’d planned for this. They’d planned for everyone’s replacement. Kicking Pete out at the last
second was not the dent in Ohmovit’s plans that it would have been if Pete was the only one
practicing to be Niran.

He’d come in from dinner to find Porsche already in bed. Things hadn’t improved between them in
the two days since he’d asked Porsche for some space. To his credit, Porsche was trying. He
wasn’t getting in Pete’s way and he wasn’t exactly avoiding him either. But he wasn’t hovering, so
Pete was grateful for that.

He could hate Porsche in peace.

As he got into the bathroom, someone knocked at the room door. Wrapping a coat around his
body, he opened the door to Kinn and Vegas.

“What’s going on?” he asked as they entered the room.

“Where’s Phi-Tankhun?” Kinn asked, going to sit on Porsche’s bed as Porsche turned around,
suddenly awake like he’d only been pretending to be asleep in the first place.

“He’s not here,” Porsche said. “What happened?”

“He asked us to meet him,” Vegas said, smiling and wagging his eyebrows at Pete. “If he’s not
here yet…” he said, smiling slyly as he tugged on the strings of Pete’s bathrobe.

“For fucksake, Vegas,” Kinn said.

Pete took the string out of Vegas’ hand just as Tankhun entered the room through the open door.

“Is everyone here?” he asked, followed closely by the director of “Overheat.”

“No offense, Director,” Kinn said. “But what are you doing here?”

“Been asking myself that exact same question?” the director said, scratching his head.

“You know,” Tankhun said. “For a room full of people in the entertainment business, you guys are
the least dramatic people I know.”

“What’s going on?” Porsche asked, kneeling up on the bed.

“I come bearing solutions.” Tankhun waved his hand at the director. “Viola.”

“Solution for what?”

“For your Tawan problem, of course.”

Pete was not sure he understood what Tankhun was saying, so he moved closer to the room as
Vegas shut the door behind them. Taking a seat at the foot of his bed, Pete looked up at Tankhun,
praying that he wasn’t dreaming, trying to recognise and accept the hope that he thought Tankhun
was offering.

“I have a plan.”

“What is it?” Pete asked.

“I’ll share it with you, but first,” Tankhun said, walking up between the beds, where Kinn and
Vegas were seated, and grabbed each man by the ear.

In unison, Kinn and Vegas stood, twisting their bodies to follow the direction in which Tankhun
was twisting their ears as both screamed out in pain.

“Ow ow ow ow ow, Phi! ” Kinn said.

“What the fuck, Phi?” Vegas said, holding Tankhun’s hand.

“The next time someone threatens this family,” Tankhun said in a whisper. “And I have to hear
about it because Porsche has been violated and tossed in the street, I will pluck both your ears from
your heads. Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” Kinn said. “Let go!”

“Do you hear me?” he repeated in Vegas’ direction.

“I’ve heard, now stop.”

With one last twist, he shoved both of them back on the beds and turned away from them, moving
back to the director. As Kinn nursed his reddened ear, Porsche moved closer, blowing on it with a
worried look on his face.

“Sorry,” he said, a slightly amused look on his face.

“So,” Tankhun said. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

And just like that, Pete sat, listening to Tankhun’s every word, hanging on because he had nothing
else to hang on to. No other source of hope. He had nothing else to lose. The public presentation
was four days away.
If Tankhun’s plan didn’t work, Pete was screwed either way.
 The mystery beyond the pain

Popping yet another pill into his mouth, Vegas blinked the blurriness at the edge of his vision
away. Soon. Once they handled the Porsche’s public presentation and dealt with Tawan, Vegas
would get off the pills and fuck a lot of toys. Because, damn if his body wasn’t begging for it. He
was angrier, snappier, more prone to raising his voice at his people and after Porsche had smacked
him in the head a couple of times, Vegas realized that he was getting snappy with his… friends…
too.

He needed a moment away from other people. He needed a moment away from Pete. It wasn’t
exactly the best decision to be hanging around him when Vegas’ suppressants were barely
suppressing anything. It may have been in his mind, mostly because Pete was on suppressants too
and wasn’t smelling anything like an omega. But Vegas could swear that every time Pete got close
or passed by him, or even opened his mouth to speak, Vegas could get a whiff of omega
pheromones. Intoxicating and pleasant and so, so lust-filling to the point that he’d almost slipped
his hand into the back of Pete’s pants.

In public.

Vegas needed a moment.

“You left before saying goodbye,” Pete said on the phone as Vegas walked up the stairs to his
room, at home.

“I have some things to take care of. How is Tankhun’s Great Plan coming along? Did you finish?”

“I think we’re ready.”

“That’s…” Vegas sighed. “That’s good to hear.” He really wished Pete was there.

“Cycle break’s started. I can come over-”

“Not today,” he said. “I didn’t get the mouth guards.”

“You’re still on suppressants, right?”

As he entered his room, he realized that was actually a good point. If he stayed on suppressants all
night, Pete could-

The light by his desk came on before Vegas closed the door, revealing his father sitting in Vegas
chair.

“Um…” he said. “Let me call you back.”

“Should I start comin-”

“No,” he said a bit too harshly. “No,” he repeated, lower and calmly.

“You-you don’t want me there?” Pete asked, sounding disappointed.

“It’s not that…” It’s not that I don’t want you here, Vegas wanted to say, but his father was in the
room, looking right at him. “Can I talk to you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Pete said hastily. “No problem.”

Pete cut the call before Vegas could say anything more.

Sighing in frustration, Vegas made his way closer to his father as he reached his bed, but didn’t sit
on it.

“You’ve been busy recently,” Papa said.

“I have an opening coming up and Porsche’s stage play will soon start viewing.”

“Hmm,” Papa said, swiveling the chair from side to side as he watched Vegas. “Who was that on
the phone?”

Unable to reply, Vegas looked at the ground.

“Was that Pete?”

“Papa-”

“You and Kinn switched employees. You fuck his and he gets to fuck Porsche? Is that it?”

“It’s not like that, Papa.”

“You’re spending so much time with him, people might start to remember that you’re blood
related?”

“We’re working on a project together.”

“On a project?” Papa asked, a sardonic smile spreading on his face. “Your actors are working on a
project together. Not you and Kinn.”

Vegas eyes returned to the floor.

“While you were busy gallivanting around the place, Porsche was getting exposed.”

“Someone attacked him, Papa.”

“And whose fault is that?” Papa asked. “You’ve been too busy burying yourself in that whore-”

“Don’t call him that,” Vegas said.

“Excuse me?”

Vegas cringed inwardly, realizing that he’d actually said those words out loud.

“What did you say to me, boy?”

Bracing himself, Vegas looked up. “I’m handling the Porsche situation, Papa. It’s all under
control.”

“And Pete?”

“He has nothing to do with this.”

“He has everything to do with it. Before you started messing around with Kinn’s people, you had
your head on straight. Now, it’s one problem after another. I have half the mind to take that fucking
company from you.”
That was what it was all about, at the end of the day. Anything Pete had done to Papa, any insult
he’d caused, paled in comparison to the fact that Pete was Kinn’s artist. That alone was enough for
Papa to mark him off.

Papa got up and made his way around the table, watching Vegas with as much disappointment as
was regular.

“You’re not supposed to be at that production,” he said. “Didn’t you hire a manager for that? Why
are you spending so much time there?”

“Some things need my attention.”

“Anything beyond Porsche is bullshit.”

“I’ve been there for Porsche.”

“And the late night meetings with Kinn? The midnight surveillance?”

“Papa-”

“You think I didn’t know about those? What are you always meeting about?”

“Business.”

“What business,” Papa began with his voice rising into anger. “Could you fucking have to discuss
with Anakinn Theerapanyakul?”

“I just-”

Papa slapped him.

“Don’t you fucking talk back to me, boy.”

Vegas jolted in place. He’d expected the slap, but it was always still a shock to him. Even as an
adult.

Papa dropped a bunch of cards on Vegas’ bed as Vegas dared to look at them. He knew what they
were. He thought he’d handled them. He thought they wouldn’t be a problem. But, apparently, they
were.

“What business have you been handling?” Papa asked. “If we have dissatisfied business partners.”

Vegas’ lips trembled as he looked down at the cards.

“What has Kinn been telling you?” Papa moved closer, causing Vegas to step back. “Do you think
you’re too good for how we do business?” he asked. “Answer me.”

“He hasn’t been telling me anything, Papa.”

“Then explain those cards to me,” he said, pointing at Vegas’ bed. “Do you think that you’re Kinn?
Do you think our allies will listen to you if you show up pretending to be your cousin?”

“I’m not trying to be Kinn.”

“You know how we get our foot in the door. You kill someone or you fuck someone and as I’ve
always told you, you can’t kill everyone.”
“I was…” Vegas hesitated, not sure how to proceed. “I was going to get back to them.”

Papa smacked him so hard that Vegas sat on the bed.

“Look at me,” Papa said as Vegas obeyed. “You’re only good for one thing, Vegas. I’ve tried to
teach you how to be a good business man but you’re as useless as ever. If I ever have to come
down here to ask you to fuck someone again, I will fucking castrate you.” He shoved Vegas away.

Vegas hadn’t been hosting any of his allies recently. He hadn’t done it out of anger. He’d started to
hate it more than usual and reduced his contact. If they wanted to fuck, he sent them paid boys and
girls to take care of business. Sometimes, they wanted him in the room. Sometimes, they were fine
accepting the people Vegas sent. Vegas was fine with the arrangement as long as they didn’t have
to touch him.

He had no idea how, but ever since Pete, ever since feeling what it felt like for someone else to
cater to him, to make him feel good, the mere thought of letting all these other vultures near him
was incredibly revolting and Vegas had just opted out of it. Quietly. Without making a big deal out
of it.

“Maybe,” he began. “Maybe there are other ways.”

“Other ways to what?”

“Satisfy our business partners.”

Papa looked at him.

Papa belted into loud laughter, bending over like Vegas had said the most ridiculous thing in the
world.

“You really do think you’re Kinn.”

“It’s not about Kinn.”

“Is it about the whore you’re entertaining in your bed these days?”

Vegas bit his lips to keep from retorting to that.

“What?” Papa asked. “You think you can be faithful to him just because he’s new?”

“We’re Theerapanyakuls. We don’t have to bow to our business-”

“You’ll bow to whomever the fuck I say you bow to.”

“Papa-”

“I thought I made myself clear, Vegas.” He turned fully to face Vegas. “Pick one card.”

Without bothering to look, Vegas picked the closest card.

“Tomorrow, you’re going to call him up, take him to dinner and do whatever the fuck he wants you
to do.”

When Papa turned to go, Vegas said, “No.”

One word. Two letters bearing the weight of a billion words, Vegas heard his own voice utter
something he’d never uttered to his father. Unable to believe what he’d just said, Vegas slowly
covered his mouth, wondering if he’d actually said it or if he’d only thought it. If he could get up
from the bed and pretend none of it ever actually happened.

“What did you say?” Papa asked.

“I said no,” Vegas heard himself repeat.

On Papa’s face, shock and anger fought for dominance as he slowly spun back to look down at
Vegas.

“I must not have heard you correctly.”

“I won’t be entertaining any of them,” Vegas said, sitting up.

“Who do you think you are?”

“I’m your son,” Vegas said.

“You’re my greatest disappointment.”

“Without me all your business ventures would be nothing.”

Papa slapped him. Before Vegas could recover, he punched him in the jaw, shifting it slightly as
Vegas winced in pain. Familiar pain. Because this was all Papa did. One step out of line and Vegas
could count on pain.

He knew pain. His cut flesh, his scarred back, his stabbed hand, his broken wrist. Vegas could
remember every incident. Because that was the extent of Papa’s wrath. Physical pain.

“You take that card and make that call-”

“Or what?” Vegas asked with genuine curiosity, blood dripping out of his mouth.

He couldn’t help wondering what was beyond the pain because, frankly, the pain was starting to
get a bit old.

“Are you going to lock me up? Tie me up? Beat me? Break me?” he asked, sputtering blood in his
father’s face. “I want to know what else you have in store for me, Papa.”

Searching his eyes like he’d never seen Vegas before, Papa said. “You must have lost your damn
mind.”

He shoved Vegas into the cards on his bed as he wiped his face.

While Vegas waited for his father’s punishment, nothing came. He lay there for a few more
moments, wondering if Papa was going to lift the table and drop it right on his head. He’d done it
before. Vegas wouldn’t put it past him.

Instead, he heard the door to his room open and close.

When Vegas looked up from the bed, Papa was gone.

 The morning of

When the room door opened, that night, Porsche turned over, burying his head in his pillows as he
pulled the covers over his head. They were done with rehearsals and most people were going to go
home. Some of the cast and crew had left already. Porsche would have stayed, regardless because
he had things to do. He had no idea if Pete had any prior engagements, but seeing as they still had
Tawan to deal with, they were both stuck in their rooms. Trying to stay out of trouble.

It was the night before Monday... before Porsche's public presentation and he just wanted to get
some sleep, but for some reason, sleep kept evading him. Pretending was going to help. Plus,
pretending was going to get rid of any uneasy tension between Pete and himself. Pete wanted
space. The last thing Porsche was going to do was make an already hard situation worse for either
of them.

Pete didn't waste time getting out of his clothes before he went to take a bath. As soon as he entered
the bathroom, Porsche's phone rang. Smiling, he answered the call.

"What now?"

"Did I wake you?" Kinn asked.

"No. Need something?"

"Just checking in. Tomorrow's a big day."

"I know."

"Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

The line was silent for a while, as it began to get weird.

"Did you call for a reason?"

Kinn chuckled. "I did. But, it just occurred to me that even though I have a lot to say, you have a
digital gremlin attached to your phone."

Porsche laughed, imagining Todd as a tiny, woodland creature pattering around inside his android,
struggling to listen in on Porsche's conversation with Kinn like the creep that he was.

"Don't worry, you can tell me tomorrow."

"I doubt I'll be able to say it when we're face to face."

Porsche wasn't very bothered by the way his heart started beating faster. Kinn tended to cause it
without even trying.

"Oh, do I make you nervous, Kinn?"

"Always."

Blushing, Porsche moved his phone from one ear to the other as he turned over so that the phone
could rest on his head.
"Let me allow you to sleep. You have a big day tomorrow."

Porsche wanted to tell him not to go, tell him that Porsche couldn't sleep anyways. He wanted to
press and prod till Kinn stayed and talked with him and told him nice things because he was sure
the things Kinn wanted to say would be things that Porsche wanted to hear.

But then he remembered their last conversation in the hospital and his lips went still. any request
for Kinn to stay died on his tongue. Because as sweet as it all was, there was still an elephant in the
room.

Sighing, he said, "Good night Kinn."

"Good night, Porsche. Good night, Todd."

Porsche couldn't help laughing as the line cut off on Kinn's laughter. As he quieted, he heard Pete
coming out of the bathroom. Knowing that Pete had already heard him, Porsche, slipped his hand
out of the covers and dropped his phone back on the side cupboard. He was very aware of Pete's
movement through the room. In the past week, they'd become something like revolving doors,
knowing that they each existed, but doing everything in their power to never meet outside of work.

That night, he felt Pete move between their beds, something he hadn't done in a while. He sat on
his bed, facing Porsche's, silent and unmoving as Porsche waited for him to say something. After
all, Pete was the one who dug the pit between them. If there was ever going to be a bridge, Pete
had to build it himself. Porsche couldn't get in the way of his stress or healing or whatever he was
going through if he'd expressly told Porsche to stay away.

After a few minutes of wondering, Pete shifted back into his bed as he pulled the covers over
himself, and went to bed.

Disappointed as he was, Porsche remained where he was. Monday was a big day ahead. He needed
to think about himself and not Pete. For a moment, he had to worry about tomorrow.

His relationship with Pete would sort itself out when it was ready to sort itself out.

***

Porsche received so many calls that morning that he handed his phone to Toss.

Ohmovit had rented the Graham Blitz conference hall for the public presentation so the place was
packed with reporters in the front, while a line of sectioning tape held back regular people who'd
come to watch. Up on stage were three chairs, a desk, a huge monitor for the viewing, a laptop for
the technician who was conducting the viewing, and a mic for Porsche and the event coordinator.

Sitting alone in the back room of the conference hall, Porsche closed his eyes as he tried to calm
down. On the schedule of things they were about to do that week, the presentation ranked low on
difficulty. He was an alpha. He was just going to sit in front of an audience and be declared an
alpha. absolutely nothing to worry about.

His CCD was another issue. But having gone four months out of a six-month project with no slip-
ups, Porsche was going to survive this. Especially since Ohmovit already knew. It was in his
contract. It wasn't something he was going to lie to future producers about. He could do this.

He could do this.

He swore he could do it.

The door opened and Toss peeped in.

"Uh... Phi?" Toss said, coming with Porsche's phone held out in front of him.

"What is it?"

"Your mother."

"Hey, Mae," he said smiling as he answered the phone.

"How are you, my baby?" she asked. "You haven't started, have you?"

Porsche looked at his watch. "Any moment now. Did you need something?"

"You weren't lying to me, where you Porsche?" she asked. "When you said a stalker attacked you,
that was all this story was, right?"

Porsche pinched his nail to keep his voice steady. He hated lying to his mom, so he'd sent a text.
Now, here she was, asking for verbal confirmation that Porsche was afraid to give. How could
explain Tawan to her without mentioning what they had planned? How could he tell her about
Kinn's kidnapping without telling her that he shot people? He was doing things that he knew was
wrong. Things that she'd feared he would be too exposed to since they were kids.

She'd wanted her children to be better, but she'd been too worried about the Theerapanyakul kids to
cut the family off completely. How was Porsche supposed to explain to her or his father? How was
he supposed to tell her that he had waltzed right into a turf war simply because he was fucking
Kinn?

"Porsche?" she asked. "Tell me what's going on?"

"Mae-"

"Vegas brought his brother over to the house, this morning. He asked me to keep him for the week
or until he comes to get him. What is going on that he's hiding his brother here, Porsche? I trust
that you'll tell me if something is wrong."

Porsche frowned. Tawan was the problem, but Tawan didn't care about Macau. If Tawan was
targeting their younger brothers, Vegas would have said something so that Porsche could keep
Chay out of the way. Which meant that Tawan wasn't the problem. This was something else.

"I don't know what's going on, Mae."

"He showed up with bruises on his face again," she said.

"Who?"

"Vegas. I might not know much, but I know Kun's handiwork, Porsche. So, I'll ask you again, did
you tell me the whole truth about your incident? Was it just a random stalker, or does this have
anything to do with Vegas' father?"

Oh, Porsche thought. His mother thought... oh... but also, how horrid it was for Kun to be causing
trouble now that they were in the middle of all this. For fucksake.

"Kun had nothing to do with my attack, Mae. It was... it was-it was just a stalker."

"And Vegas? Did he tell you what happened with his father? Because he won't talk to me. He just
dropped Macau and ran."

"I'll ask him what's going on?"

"Ask him," she said. "And make him eat. You know how he is."

"I will Mae."

She sighed heavily. "I miss you. You boys go out into the world and god knows what you're doing
there or who's looking at you and wanting to harm you. I have a good mind not to let Macau and
Chay leave the house."

"Actually," Porsche said, as it occurred to him. "That might be a good idea."

"I didn't mean that, Porsche. the boys have school."

"They can miss school for a week. If they need anything, have Kim bring it over."

"Kim's been here for a couple of days already."

"See?" Porsche said with cheer. "It's a holiday already."

Honestly, they'd all been irresponsible by not making sure the family babies were safe. Seeing as
Tawan was a sewer rat willing to do anything, they should have done something to keep the boys
safe. After all, no one had thought Porsche was on Tawan's radar until he was lying on the ground,
staring up at paparazzi, with no shirt on.

"Okay," she agreed. "I can call off work for a few days." She sighed. "Take care of yourself, okay?
I'll be watching the presentation. You're good with speeches. You've got this, okay?"

"Okay, Mae. Greet Papa for me."

Vegas came into the room. He had on a pair of dark sunshades that barely covered the bruise above
his left eye and the one on his jaw, along with the scratches on his cheek. Porsche went to him,
picking up Vegas' hand as he examined it.

"Are you ready?" Vegas asked, letting Porsche turn his hand around.. "Sorry I'm late, but they're
calling for you."

"Yeah, 'm ready," Porsche replied, noting that there were no bruises on his knuckles.

Knowing Vegas, the only person who ever got close enough to land a punch without receiving one
in return was his father. Every fight they'd ever gotten in, Vegas had hit Porsche back, when they
were kids. He'd hit Kin back. Even Tankhun. It didn't matter if he was going to lose, Vegas fought
back.

"Let's go."

Porsche wanted to talk about the bruises. He wanted to ask about Macau. But it wasn't the right
time.

At the moment, Porsche had to worry about his career and the part he was about to play in the plan
to destroy Tawan.
 The best day for things to go... right

He didn't want to talk to Kinn, but Kinn had a lot to say to Congressman Apinya. Locked away in
his hospital room, the man kept his face turned from Kinn the moment Kinn came into the room.

"I'm here to extend an olive branch."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"Trust me, you'll want to hear what I have to say."

"You said you would let me go, yet here I am." He looked at Kinn. "Your word means bullshit to
me."

Laid up in bed with his legs still in casts, the congressman could barely contain his fear, but his
rage was wading through and Kinn could see it. If he let the man go, retaliation was going to take
place.

"Your son and I were never going to mate. He's not an omega."

Apinya scoffed. "Okay," he agreed with a shrug.

"Judging from what you said the last time we spoke, I'm sure you weren't in on it. You have no
idea what your son was planning."

"Let's just understand that I will never believe a thing you say."

Kinn had guessed as much. So he dialed Tawan's number.

"Hey," Tawan said as soon as he picked up.

Kinn put it on speaker.

"Your father is giving me trouble. I don't think I can keep him anymore."

Tawan sighed. "Old fucker. Keep him a week and you can send him back."

Apinya looked at Kinn, surprise all over his face.

"He's getting disruptive and my men-"

"Kill him if he's causing you so much trouble. At least that way he won't try to force us to mate
again, eh?"

Apinya's lips patted slowly, as his eyes doubled in size.

"You're sure."

"Of course I am."

Kinn cut the call. He'd expected as much. If Kinn killed the congressman, he'd be in trouble with
Apinya's allies. And then Tawan would swoop in to save the day. Leaving his father with Kinn had
been just another step in his plan to get rid of the old man, but Tawan wasn't going to do it himself.
He was going to use that one stone to kill two birds, by placing himself strategically in place to join
the Theerapanyakul family.

"Did you hear that?"

"That wasn't my son," Apinya said, shaking his head.

"Your son was never an omega. He only let you believe that so that you'd force us together."

"To what end?" Apinya asked, his eyes clouding with tears as he looked up at Kinn from his
hospital bed.

"He tried to get rid of my father too," Kinn said. "That was the end goal. Once you two were gone,
he could have me, even though he wasn't an omega."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Think about it," Kinn said, moving closer. "We were both in our cycle and I was tied up. If he was
an omega, what was stopping him from biting me?"

"He..." Apinya said, searching for answers in his mind, struggling to understand that his son had
just sentenced him to death. "He-he-he couldn't... he wouldn't do that to me."

"Your son has been amassing an army of loyalists without you. How else could I have escaped? He
let me go and your men watched it happen from the sidelines."

"No."

"I'm going to make this simple for you, Sir," Kinn said, as he got to Apinya's bed. "You're safe with
me and I'm willing to return you to the people who are loyal to you if you help me bring down
your son."

"I..." Apinya was shaken, unable to form coherent sentences as he fought to come to terms with all
the information Kinn was laying on him.

"He asked me to kill you, Sir," Kinn said. "No matter how I've felt about my father, I've never
thought of killing him. You might want to reconsider your loyalties before it's too late."

***

On the day of the presentation, Kinn watched it from his phone, noting how much older Porsche
looked dressed so corporately in a grey shirt, a black jacket, and a pair of blue trousers. With a
serious set to his face, he sat between the technician and the moderator as the technician pressed
the needle into Porsche's neck. The camera zoomed in on Porsche, his face veiled and emotionless
in a way that Porsche was never supposed to be.

Kinn wished he could be there, but there was so much to do. the day was going to go fast, so they
couldn't all stand around, holding hands.

The technician injected the hormone into Porsche and withdrew the needle as Porsche blinked,
shaking his head to clear it a bit. Behind them, the monitor showed the test form with blank
readings. The technician took disposed of his needle, took out a biting foam, and waited as Porsche
steadied.

When he opened his mouth and the mating teeth extended, the hall erupted in gasps as cameras
flashed, taking pictures, documenting the moment that the country had confirmation that Porsche
Kittisawasd was not a beta.

The technician pressed the biting foam into Porsche's teeth, extracting what he needed for the test.
As he fitted the foam into the machine, setting it to work, the form on the board began to change
as, one by one, the test exposed Porsche's readings for all to see. As it became apparent what the
reporters and the audience were looking at, the hall started to get noisy as more pictures flashed,
with people getting to their feet and moving closer to the sectioning tapes.

"Please stay in your places," the moderator said. "No questions, today." He looked at the monitor,
as shocked as everyone else, because he'd also been of the mind that Porsche was an
omega. "Alpha," he said breathlessly. "Porsche is an alpha. Who knew?"

But the readings kept going, filling in the spot that was usually blank for others.

"My god," the moderator said, staring down at Porsche. "You have CCD?"

If Kinn didn't remember how badly he'd reacted to Porsche's secrete when he'd found out, he would
have been irritated by the way everyone was acting like they were staring at a unicorn.

Porsche sat forward, leaning towards the mic as the hall quieted to hear him.

"Yes," he said. "I am an alpha and I have a Contagious Cycle Disorder. I did not plan to be
misleading, I just felt it was my personal life to deal with. Ohmovit was made aware of my
condition when I auditioned for the role. It's in my contract and I'm obligated to pay damages if I
put the production at risk. I have spent four months on Overheat and there has seen no trouble
from me. I hope that now that everyone knows my business, this will stop being a topic of
discussion and that you can all respect what little is left of my privacy. Thank you."

He was about to stand up when the moderator waved him back down.

"Please, one question," he said. "Can we expect any legal action against haters who disparaged
your name by calling you an omega?"

For the first time that day, anger flashed over Porsche's face as he looked at the moderator.

"Calling me an omega was not disparaging of my name."

"You do agree they did it to bring you down, don't you?"

Porsche inhaled as he went back to the mic again.

"I have worked on thirty-two different projects with hundreds of cast and crew and in all my years
as an actor, I have never seen any problems on set that were caused by an omega." He
grimaced. "I've seen alphas go into a rut because they didn't check their calendars. I've seen
alphas bite their costars during a love scene. I've had productions get pushed back because one of
the leads was in a rut. Never, in my life, have I seen the same happen because of an omega. So
no," he said, looking back at the moderator. "I will not be suing anyone for thinking that I was an
omega."

Kinn had heard Porsche say the same thing a thousand times. He didn't care that people thought he
was an omega, but his refusal to deny it only made people believe it more. And yet, Kinn was sure
that what Porsche had just said would carry more weight now that people knew he wasn't an
omega. Because people tended to listen to allies more than they listened to the victims of hate and
ignorance. Half of them were going to romanticize Porsche's statements while the other half
pretended that their disdain for omegas was just something that their idol would have to live with.
The world wouldn't be perfect in one day because of one alpha actor.

A loud, pained moan brought Kinn's attention back to his phone. The camera of the reporter that
Kinn was watching the presentation from, moved around as the reporter sought the source of the
moan.

"What was that?" someone asked in the background.

The moan sounded again. This time, the camera steadied, facing the monitor behind Porsche. On-
screen, a video of Pete played as Pete sat in front of bright yellow light that was cast against his
body, showing his legs chained apart. Kinn had seen Pete naked a lot of times. 80% of his stage
plays featured him nude at least once. Seeing Pete naked was nothing new for Kinn or anyone else
in the audience.

But this time, Pete was sitting on a metal chair, placed on concrete, and from where the camera
was, everyone could see something leaking from beneath him.

"Pete Saengthem," someone in the crowd of reporters said.

"What's going on?"

On stage, Porsche turned to look up at the screen as he slowly stood to his feet in shock.

"Oh god," the moderator said, running behind the monitor. "How do we turn it off? How do we
turn it off?"

The moderator ran off the stage, no doubt, going to look for the person who set up the monitors.

"No, no, no, no," Porsche said.

With Pete's video playing and the moderator absconding, the reporters pushed passed the
sectioning tapes, going closer to Porsche as the camera showed Porsche staring up at the screen,
unable to move.

"This wasn't..." Porsche said. "This wasn't supposed to come out now." He turned to his left and his
right, searching for the moderator. "Turn it off," Porsche screamed. "Turn the fucking monitor off."

There was a laugh on the screen of the monitor. A cackling maniacal laugh that silenced the room,
once again.

"Aaaaaaand... cut," the director said on screen.

Suddenly, Time rushed onto the screen of the monitor with a clapper board, laughing like a child.
He was wearing his General Bho costume from Overheat. As soon as Time hit the clapperboard,
Pete gave a heavy sigh in the background as his body relaxed. Immediately, people walked into the
frame, going to retouch Pete's make-up as someone covered him with a towel.

"Why did you laugh?" Pete asked Time.

"You weren't even acting," Time said, faking a moan. "That didn't even sound like a-"

The monitor went off.

Once again, reporters hounded Porsche, looking for answers as Porsche stared into the crowd,
looking unsure of what to do next.
***

Many Days Ago

"It's simple, really," Tankhun had said, shrugging his shoulders at the other men in the room.

Pete had looked at Kinn, a slight frown on his face as he tried to understand Tankhun's plan. "I
thought the play already released its two trailers."

"This will be a new one." Tankhun nodded. "Director, you'll film another one from Act II, Scene
IX." He dropped the folded script on the bed, in the midst of all of them.

Vegas picked it up. "This is the scene where the general interrogates Niran after he's caught
poisoning the emperor." He looked up at Tankhun. "How is this going to help us?"

"We tweak it a bit. Have Pete shoot it completely naked, all lubed up and dripping like he's in
heat."

"I'm sorry," Porsche said, raising his hand like a kid in a classroom. "Isn't the whole point to hide
his... omeganess, not re-record more evidence?"

"Yes," Tankhun agreed. "But if we shoot a scene between the general and Niran for a new trailer,
one where the set for the interrogation is exactly the way it was when Tawan took Pete, we can
release "leaked footage" and then an actual trailer." He looked at Pete. "You do remember what the
room looked like, right?"

Pete wrapped his housecoat around his body and folded his arms in as he said, "I could never
forget."

"See? We shoot a fake scene that's just like the real one and the real one loses its power."

"Hunh," Vegas said, looking at Tankhun. "That almost sounds like a sensible plan."

"You can give me a compliment without being a dick, Vegas," Tankhun informed him.

***

Present Day

Cameras flashed in Porsche's face as Kinn watched it online from the back of his car as Kinn
checked his guns, loaded up on bullets, and slipped two more knives into his shin guard.

"Porsche, what did you mean by "it wasn't supposed to come out yet"?"

"Porsche, was that leaked footage?"

"Was that Time Ratanapakorn who plays General Bho in Overheat?"

"Are we expecting more trailers?"

"Will this cast be involved in a screenplay?"

"Why was Pete Saengthem's naked body on the monitor?"

"No comment," Porsche said, moving through the crowd as bodyguards reached for him, coming
between him and the reporters who were desperate for more information.
The moment Porsche left the conference hall in one piece, protected by bodyguards, Kinn switched
off his phone. Leaning back against the headrest, he took a few deep breaths. Almost there. They
were so close. There was no wind left beneath Tawan's wings. Not anything he could use against
them anymore. But letting Tawan run around was out of the question. Underneath their noses, he'd
caused so much trouble already. Kinn was worried to imagine what would happen now that Tawan
had nothing to lose.

The congressman had been honest and forthcoming, offering up the warehouses where Gambit
kept goods, as well as all possible safehouses where his son would lay low. Coordinating with
Vegas and seven other teams, Kinn led his team of bodyguards against Tawan's men. Armed and
ready for a fight, Kinn was covered in blood from the moment he walked through the doors.

He wasn't going to kill all of them. He needed leverage against their old bosses. Unlike the
Theerapanyakuls who'd been lucky enough to discover their mole, other gangs had remained
oblivious, giving their disloyal members more time and many chance to betray them to Gambit, to
sell them out to Tawan, giving info on their soft spots and whatever edge they had in the business.
Kinn knew the gang leaders were going to want to deal with their moles, personally.

He also knew the shame was going to be immeasurable when they considered just insulting it was
for a newcomer to walk right over all of them.

But they were going to owe Kinn. They were going to owe the Theerapanyakuls. Kinn was going
to make sure that every one of them knew that it was Kinn and Vegas that brought Gambit to its
knees. Not Korn and Kun. It was Kinn and Vegas that saved the Thai underworld from running
headfirst into the chaos that Tawan was no doubt going to unleash, in the wake of his success.

So, while Kinn fired his gun and stabbed his daggers, and fought his way through familiar faces
that belonged to a multitude of gangs, he knew he had to keep some of them alive. The plan hinged
on the old gang leaders who'd been previously hesitant to stand against the older Theerapanyakuls.

He was stepping out from his father's shadow. He was going to be his own man. Do his own thing.
If he had to lead, then he was going to lead. And the gang leaders were going to know it. One way
or another.

However, after they'd raided and contained six warehouses and three safehouses effectively Tawan
Apinya was nowhere to be found.
 The easiest target

Pete’s phone was on silent mode.

He wanted to soak himself in the bath while the world went crazy around him. He knew a lot of
noise would be waiting for him when he got back to the phone and he just figured he could have a
few moments of peace.

Somewhere, not so far away, Porsche was having his presentation, Kinn and Vegas were kicking
down doors and Tankhun was poised for damage control. Pete was going to spend the rest of his
life worried about all that fucking shit so he could afford to have two seconds of peace.

When he emerged from the bathtub, toweling off his body, he watched himself in the mirror,
grateful for the good work his ointments had done. The scars left behind by Vegas’ father were
almost gone. Very faint lines remained and even then, Pete could only see them because he knew
they were there. By the time Overheat came around, he’d be fresh as a baby.

From the bathroom, he went straight to his wardrobe, humming to himself as he tried not to think of
his phone, just yet. He would get to it. Eventually. Not just yet. A moment more. And another
moment. And another…

A few moments before contact, Pete felt the presence of someone else behind him.

With the kind of life he’d led, having someone come up behind him wasn’t the strangest thing.
Directors did it. Photographers did it. Friends did it. In prison, other prisoners had done it. Pete was
delicate-looking. The kind of visage that invited people's imposition. He was used to his space
being overrun by unwanted entities.

But he was in his safe space. In his room. He didn’t have to indulge any of it. It took him until the
last second to remember that he could move away. He could avoid it.

Pete shrugged his shoulder out of the way as he felt the scratch of a needle against his skin, tearing
away at the good work his ointment had fought so hard to preserve. Hissing in pain and annoyance,
Pete drove his elbow into the gut of the person behind him as a huge hand tried to reach for him.

When Pete turned around, he saw two men in the room. One of them was right in front of him with
a syringe in his hand, while the other remained further away, almost out of sight but not quite. The
man with the syringe lunged at Pete, but he evaded, climbing over his desk chair as he picked up
the chair, and slammed it against his assailant's face. The man let go of the syringe, grabbing his
bleeding face and so Pete jumped at the chance. He rushed for the syringe, very aware that he had
almost no idea what to do with it. But the moment he picked it up, he stabbed the man in the neck
with it and pressed down the lever, emptying the contents of the syringe into the man’s neck as the
man’s body slowly slumped at Pete’s feet.

Breathing hard, he pulled the syringe out and dropped it on the table as he stood up, just as the
other man strolled out from behind Porsche’s bed, a tiny gun in his hand, with a silencer attached to
the nozzle.

“Honestly,” Tawan said. “I’m shocked at how many times I’ve been able to get away with the
same trick.”

“Fool me once,” Pete said, remembering how they’d accosted him, drugged him, and dragged him
to a warehouse.
“Tsk,” Tawan said. “I suppose I should have brought more than one man, but he’s all I’ve got
now.”

Trying to control his breathing because his heart was still pumping hard in his chest, Pete tightened
the towel on his waist. He could feel blood trailing down his neck from where the syringe had cut
him, but he couldn’t attend to it, at the moment. Not with Tawan pointing a gun at him.

“What do you want?”

“Seeing as you just knocked out the man who would have carried you out, I want you to get
dressed and walk with me.”

“And go where?” Pete asked, remembering how they’d put a bag over his head and manhandled
him into the trunk of a car. He remembered how he’d woken up, naked and afraid, shivering with
the cold metal bars of the chair digging into his body.

“Does it matter where I’m taking you?”

Keeping Tawan in his sights, he pulled a shirt from the wardrobe, a pair of pants, an underwear
from his drawer, and a pair of socks.

While everyone else was looking for him, he’d come to get Pete. Because Pete was the easy target.
The easy, bargaining chip. The one that could be bundled into a bag and tucked into a trunk. The
powerless omega that could be assaulted whenever.

Then again, Pete’s presentation didn’t matter much to scum like Tawan. He’d abused Kinn and
Porsche, as much as he’d abused Pete. If he was fearless enough to go after Kinn, Pete knew that
he’d been lucky the first time Tawan had gone after him. It had just been for the video.

This time, Tawan was exposed and on the run. He was desperate and shoved into a corner. If he’d
been dreadful before, Pete didn’t want to imagine what he’d be like if Pete walked out of the room
with him.

As he put on his clothes, he wondered if he could risk it. If he could make a run for the door and
pray that Tawan wasn’t a good shot. He hadn’t come close to Pete since he’d entered the room. He
was keeping his distance to avoid Pete attacking him. But for him to do that, Pete wondered if
Tawan was also just confident in his shooting skills that he knew he could get Pete if Pete tried to
run.

“Pick up the pace,” Tawan said when Pete sat on the foot of his bed to put on his socks.

Pete eyed his phone on the table. He’d been careful not to go near it, lest he draw Tawan’s
attention to it. As he wore his shoes, he stood to his feet, looking at Tawan as Tawan nodded
towards the door.

“Let’s go. Don’t even think about being funny.”

Stepping over the broken chair and the slumped body of Tawan’s guard, Pete leaned on the table as
he swiped his phone from it, heading towards the door. As he got into the entryway that also led to
the bathroom, there was a short moment where he was slightly out of Tawan’s sight.

“Not too fast,” Tawan said.

But it was too late. The door leading out of the room opened into the room so that wasn’t Pete’s
best option, seeing as the bathroom door was already slightly ajar. He pushed in and slammed the
door shut, locking it behind him as he dialed Kinn’s number.

“Get out of there,” Tawan raged against the door as he banged it.

Pete hid in the corner between the toilet and door as he squatted and dialed Kinn’s number with
shaky fingers. Tawan fired his gun at the door.

“Hey,” Kinn said.

“Tawan’s here,” Pete said. “Come now.”

“In your room?”

“Yes.”

“On my way.”

Pete’s heart jumped into his throat when the second shot went off, slicing into the air, breaking off
bits of the door. He prayed that Kinn was close enough to make a difference because if Pete had
taken this chance and it was for nothing, Tawan was going to kill him. No doubt. Pete would have
been better off walking into the corridor with Tawan, than jumping into the bathroom and getting
caught.

He knew that Tawan had an escape plan. He’d walked into Graham Blitz and no one caught him,
so he might have had a way out. If he was planning to carry an unconscious Pete out of the hotel,
walking out with him would be less conspicuous and therefore easier to do. If Pete dared to walk
out with Tawan, he would be gone for good. Foolish as it felt, he was right to have gone into the
bathroom because there was no way Pete was going to be captured again. Not when so many
things could go wrong. Especially with a man like Tawan.

The third shot broke the door lock and it burst open.

Pete pounced on the door, slamming it into Tawan’s hand. Tawan shouted in pain as he pushed
back. Pete fell away from the door and landed on the wet floor of the bathroom. He rolled out of
the way, just as a bullet dug into the tile just beside his head.

He kicked Tawan in the leg and brought him to his knees. Pete sat up and punched him in the face.
Both of them shouted in unison as Pete nursed his cracked knuckles, while Tawan held his face.
Something had moved in his bones, but he didn’t even have time to deal with it because Tawan’s
gun was coming up again. Tired of it, Pete slapped the gun away. Without bothering to go after the
gun, Tawan lunged at Pete, grabbing him by the neck and slamming Pete into the side of the
bathtub.

Gasping for breath, Pete pressed Tawan’s hand and pulled at the same time, but Tawan wouldn’t
budge.

“All you had to do was come with me,” Tawan said through his bleeding lips as he applied more
pressure.

Dizzy, Pete used all his strength to land a punch in Tawan’s midriff as Tawan’s hold buckled.
Choking on freedom, Pete pushed him but when he tried to crawl away, Tawan grabbed him by the
hair and tried to slam his face into the side of the bathtub.

Pete held the bathtub, protecting himself with all his might. Tawan kicked one of Pete’s hands out
from under him and he fell, landing on his chest, instead of his face. Tawan grabbed the back of his
hair again, but this time, Pete was ready for him. As he lifted Pete, so that he could slam him down
again, Pete pushed back, walking both of them into the broken door with all the force he could
muster. When Tawan’s hand came loose, Pete turned around and slapped him.

Flustered, it took Tawan a second to recover, but in that second, Pete punched him in the head
again, ignoring the pain in his hand as he locked both hands together and brought them down on
Tawan’s head. Tawan collapsed on the floor, bleeding from the head as he blinked up at Pete,
groaning softly in pain.

“You…” Tawan started to say. “You piece of-”

Pete clenched his unmarred hand into a tight fist and delivered one last blow that sent Tawan’s face
into the wall with a loud smack, knocking him out instantly.

Breathing loudly, Pete stumbled back and sat on the bathtub, staring down at Tawan’s unmoving
form. From where Pete was sitting, he couldn’t tell if Tawan was even breathing. For all he knew,
he could have killed the guy.

And yet, Pete couldn’t even bring himself to care. Because if there was one person who didn’t
deserve anyone’s sympathy, it was Tawan Apinya.

And Pete would be proud to put down yet another abusive son of a bitch.

***

Porsche got back to the room first, rushing in like the world was on fire and stopping dead in his
tracks as he took in the sight of a bleeding Pete sitting on the bathtub with Tawan passed out
against the broken door. He pushed the door aside as Tawan’s body fell in the other direction and
entered the bathroom.

He kicked the gun away from Tawan’s body as if he expected Tawan to wake up and use it against
either of them. Only then did it occur to Pete that maybe he should have done that, himself. It
would have been so annoying to have gone through all this, only for Tawan to wake up and shoot
Pete just as Pete thought he’d won.

“Are you okay?” Porsche asked, making no move to approach Pete.

He was being cautious around Pete. Knowing Porsche, if Pete hadn’t pushed him away, Porsche
would have run to Pete the moment he entered the bathroom. But he didn’t. Instead, he squatted by
Tawan’s body, checking for a pulse. For once, Pete wished Porsche would approach him and
engulf him in a hug, but he didn’t know how to say it or put it into words. Not when his mind and
body were still reeling from the experience.

“I’m…” Pete cleared his throat. “I’m fine.”

“He’s still alive, the fucking weasel.”

“There’s another guy,” Pete said. “In the room. He came with another guy.”

“For fucksake.”

Porsche left the bathroom and Pete wished he wouldn't do that. He wished Porsche would stay with
him for a second. Just sit with him so that he could come back to reality and leave the space of
having just fought for his life.
No matter how many times he went through it, Pete would always break a little, afterward. But he
had to be strong. He had to stand on his own. Already an omega, people couldn’t look at him and
think he needed protecting. That kind of mindset was why Tawan had thought Pete was an easy
target, to begin with. Pete couldn’t be weak.

Pete went to sink and splashed water on his face. The blood on his neck had dried and so had the
blood on his face. But there would be no scarring. He was going to have a bruise on his face and
chest and his back, but bruises wouldn't be an issue. By the time the cycle break was over, Pete
would be just fine. Tawan would have caused more damage with his gun than with his weak hands.
Pete had been hit harder in his life. He could recover from Tawan’s hits.

The fact that he’d been seconds away from death, though? That was another issue. Because every
time Pete closed his eyes, he was staring down the barrel of a gun.

“Hey,” Kinn said, entering the bathroom, as he went straight for Pete.

Pete didn’t even fight him. He just sank into the hug as Kinn held him. Grabbing the back of
Kinn’s shirt, Pete tried to calm his breathing, knowing that he’d done it himself. He hadn’t let
himself be taken away. Not for a second time.

“I’m going to kill that asshole.”

“Weak asshole. He can’t even take a punch.”

Kinn chuckled as he pulled Pete away to look at him.

“How are you?”

“I have a handful of broken bones. Thanks for asking.”

“You’re going to joke it off till I let it go.”

“Then let it go,” Pete advised as Kinn frowned at him. “I’m fine.”

“You always say that.”

“Because I’m always fine.”

Vegas arrived not long after with a tight frown on his face.

“He’s still alive, right?” he asked, pointing at Tawan. “Tell me he’s alive. I need a moment.”

“He’s alive,” Kinn said, letting go of Pete. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn.”

Vegas held Pete by the hand, leading him out of the bathroom where a guard came in to bind
Tawan’s hands and feet.

“You’re sleeping in my room tonight. You can’t sleep in this destroyed room. Come,” Vegas said.
“Let’s get your things.”

***

Pete ordered a bunch of food that he didn’t need, just because he wanted to put off sleeping. But as
they waited, with Pete cuddled up in Vegas’ arms, feeling safer than he’d ever felt, Pete slept off
before he knew what was happening.
A black, dreamless sleep. More than he could have wished for, with a day full of activity and
agitation. He’d been so scared that he would go to bed and Tawan would follow behind him.
Because how surprising was it that the day had turned out as they’d hoped it would? Except for
Tawan’s little excursion, the day was fulfilled and successful.

Pete was grateful. Even though a part of him was still a bit on edge.

In the softness of Vegas’ bed, the warmth of the coverings, and the safety of having Vegas with
him, Pete slept through the night. Like he hadn’t done in ages. He didn’t have false reports to send
to Wan. He didn’t have to worry about being captured. He wasn’t worried about the tape anymore
because Tankhun had handled that.

Even if Tawan released the footage, there was nothing on it to do any real harm. He’d been foolish
enough to only turn on the camera when Pete was in view and to turn it off before he (Tawan) even
uttered a word. There was no other person videoed or recorded in Tawan’s footage. No way to tell
that it wasn’t just something that was done by the studio or done as a rehearsal shoot.

No way to ruin things for Pete.

Pete was free.

 The alpha and his omega

“Do you think Porsche will do it?”

Vegas was roused from sleep by Pete’s sleepy voice. They were cuddled together with Pete’s back
against Vegas, under the covers in the dark room. The only source of light was from the slightly
ajar bathroom door that barely illuminated anything. Vegas was a bit itchy and horny, but he was
also very tired. He’d spent the day hyped and anxious that in trying to comfort Pete to sleep, he’d
lulled himself to sleep as well.

“What?” he asked, barely coherent.

“He’s supposed to…” Pete hesitated, as he stroked the arm Vegas had put across his chest. “Will
he do it? To Tawan?”

Vegas shrugged, the minute movement making his dick rub against Pete’s ass in the best possible
way. Leaning close, he sniffed at Pete’s neck. Even in the cold room, Pete was still sweating, his
skin clammy and soft against Vegas’ touch. Drowsily, Vegas rubbed his nose across Pete’s neck,
trying to drown himself in Pete’s distinct scent.

“I wonder if he’ll do it.”

“I have no idea,” Vegas replied.

“Did you talk to him about it?”

“Haven’t really had the time,” he said, pushing down the waistband of Pete’s trousers.

“Porsche isn’t like us,” Pete said. “Won’t this kind of thing… won’t it weigh on him?”

Vegas stopped, just as his hand cupped Pete’s naked ass, noting that cold wetness against the tip of
Vegas’ fingers. “Why don’t you just ask him yourself?”

Pete didn’t respond.

“Are you two still not talking?”

“I was going to talk to him.”

“But…?” Vegas urged, licking at Pete’s neck as Pete’s scent somehow intensified around Vegas.

“I don’t know,” Pete replied, the end of the sentence morphing into a moan as he leaned back into
Vegas’ touch. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Vegas hummed, sucking on Pete’s neck as Pete’s hand slipped into Vegas’ hair, pressing him
against Pete’s neck, inviting Vegas to do more, to suck harder, to lick longer, to bite-

Vegas hissed the moment his mating teeth dropped. He ducked away from Pete as the sharp
movement made him dizzy.

“What is it?” Pete asked, sitting up.

Vegas rolled out of bed, covering his nose and mouth as the aching between his legs intensified. He
should have known. The horniness, the fatigue, the ache. The scenting of omega pheromones from
Pete that weren’t even there because Pete was on suppressants. And now his teeth. Fucking hell.
He’d been so busy throughout the day that he’d forgotten to take his drugs.

“Vegas,” Pete called, turning on the side lamp so that he could see Vegas better.

“I’m… uh…” Vegas said, willing his teeth back in. “I’m rutting a little bit,” he said, feeling his
breath quicken.

“Okay,” Pete said, slowly crawling towards him.

“What are you doing?” Vegas asked him as his voice pitched hysterically.

“There’s nothing for you to freak out about. It’s natural.”

“You’re an omega. Fuck! I need a mouthguard.” He reached for his phone, but Pete got to it before
he did.

When Vegas’s hand touched Pete’s, he felt the inviting softness of Pete. For a moment, he
contemplated grabbing onto him. Pushing Pete into the bed as he tore Pete’s clothes from his body,
just so he could rage against that beautiful skin, fuck Pete till they both couldn’t move, and then
end it all with a knot and a bite. Just like his body was begging him to.

Because his body knew Pete was an omega and his body was screaming, crying, asking Vegas to
take what Pete was being too foolish to protect.

“You don’t need a mouthguard.”

Vegas pulled his hand back, reigning in his thoughts as he stepped away from Pete.

“What are you doing?” Vegas repeated, scratching the back of his neck and the crook of his elbow.

“You said you wanted to spend your rut with me.”

“When I’d made proper preparations, including a unit and a mouth guard.”

“What if we don’t need the mouthguard?”

Vegas scoffed. “Right. I’m going to fuck you while in a rut and somehow not bite you.”

Pete was silent again, watching Vegas with the same aggravating determination he had on his face
when he’d come to Vegas home with his crazy idea of being Vegas’ mole. A kind of forceful
blankness that Vegas had once thought was nonchalance, but he was now learning was just Pete
being bullheaded about something he wanted to do. Something he couldn’t be talked out of.

And given the situation they were in… Vegas’ heart began to beat faster in his chest as he paced up
and down the wall parallel to his bedside. Because there was no fucking way he was understanding
the situation correctly. This had to be a fucking joke.

“A few months ago, you had a panic attack simply because I sucked on your neck,” Vegas
reminded Pete, feeling like he was on the verge of his own panic attack.

“A few months ago, I didn’t want you.”

“True,” he agreed. “A few months ago, you knew exactly what you were doing,” Vegas accused as
he adjusted his trousers, rubbing his dick with his palm as he moved. He was so fucking horny.
Fucking, fucking fuck! “A few months ago, you were pretending to want me.”
“I deserve that,” Pete said, calmly. “I know I’ve done things to lose your trust.”

“You don’t say,” Vegas replied.

“But I want you to know that you can trust me again.”

“By biting you?” He stopped pacing for a moment, just so he could look Pete over. Make sure that
Pete wasn’t crazy. “You think I want that from you? You think I want to make you a mindless,
opinionless fuckmate?”

“I think you want to punish me,” Pete said, dropping his legs to the floor as he sat on the bed. “I
think you want me more than anyone you’ve ever wanted in your life but you can’t get rid of me. I
think you go to bed at night and your dreams torment you because you fear that you will wake up
in the morning and I won’t be there.”

Vegas couldn’t even deny that.

“But I also think you want to hurt me,” Pete continued. “You want to make sure that I never betray
you again.”

“Biting you is not the answer.”

“I can think of a thousand worse things that you could do to me than biting me.”

Vegas approached Pete, his hands poised to choke the fuck out of the monster before him.
Stopping just as his hands encircled Pete’s neck, Vegas’ body trembled at the contact. Getting in
Pete’s space, Vegas could smell him again. The pungent scent of his omega pheromones engulfed
Vegas’ senses, slithering into his nose, and holding him captive without chains.

He couldn’t do it. Try as he might, he couldn’t tighten his hands around Pete’s neck when all he
wanted to do was bury his nose in the scent, lick his skin, and meld himself into Pete till other
people couldn’t tell them apart. He couldn’t hurt Pete. Instead, he just stood there, staring down at
Pete, who was looking back at him, making no move to defend himself.

“For once,” Vegas said. “Can you just be open with me for one second?”

“I’m being open with you.”

Unable to do anything to Pete, Vegas grabbed the lamp on his side of the bed and flung it into the
wall as it crashed, spluttering pieces of broken glass back at Vegas. Breathing hard, he stared at his
shaking hands, knowing that this was more than he usually should feel. He was rutting and his
head was overreacting to everything.

“This is probably not the best time to have this conversation,” he said.

“When then?” Pete asked.

“You don’t want me to bite you.”

“I do.”

Vegas clenched his fist as he faced Pete again. “Do you think this is something I want from you as
penance?”

“I’m not giving it as penance.”

“Then what is this?”

When Pete got up from the bed, Vegas moved back to the wall.

“I’ve never,” Pete began with hesitation. “I’ve never known someone like you,” he said, slowly.
“When I look at you, I see me. The begrudging people-pleaser who has to pretend not to care in
order to survive.”

“Pete-” Vegas said, but Pete cut in.

“I see it when we fuck. The way you’re so grateful when I take care of you but you’re so eager to
take care of me. I see it in the shock on your face when Kinn includes you, in your eagerness to be
useful to him like you don’t deserve devotion.”

Vegas shook his head as his eyes watered with tears.

“I see you, Vegas,” Pete said, holding his head still so that Vegas could look at him. “I see me.”

When he kissed Vegas, Vegas was too wrung out on Pete’s scent to fight, that he just stood there.

“Tell me you see me too,” Pete pleaded.

“I…”

He didn’t know what to say.

Yes, Pete was right about a lot of this. As he usually was. Being confronted with his intentions to
harm Pete in some way was a blow he’d never quite envisioned. He’d thought he’d get away with
it, but as the turned into weeks, into months, he’d slowly begun to let go of the idea of any kind of
punishment. But he should have known that Pete would know. Pete was right. They were the same
person. Too similar for Pete not to see the signs of Vegas’ malice.

He’d fallen for a man that he could never be sure would love him back and Vegas had held a
grudge for a while. Hearing the words from Pete’s mouth, he wondered if that grudge still existed.
Because if it did, Vegas ought to take the chance, bite Pete and kill two birds with one stone.
Punish Pete while simultaneously guaranteeing his eternal affection.

He couldn’t see a future where Pete wasn't by his side, but at the same time, he couldn’t see a
future where Pete said yes to Vegas’ yeses, and no to Vegas’ nos. He wanted Pete because he
wanted Pete. Not just because he wanted to punish him. If he bit Pete, Vegas wouldn't forgive
himself. Ever.

“Say something,” Pete urged, looking uncertain, for the first time since Vegas had met the man.

“I’m not taking away your free will.”

“There’s nothing else I could offer to make you know I-” Pete stopped talking abruptly, his lips
gluing together like he wished he’d never even started the thought.

“That you what?” Vegas asked curiously.

“I care for you,” he said.

Vegas’ heart calmed into a slow, silent rhythm, upon hearing those words. Because those words
rang false to his ears. Like the lies that Pete was known to tell, those words exposed themselves as
untrue, but in the best way possible. Looking at Pete, whose gaze had lowered from Vegas’ as he
could no longer look at Vegas, he knew that Pete was being less than honest.

I care for you.

He hadn’t meant to say that. Not exactly. It was a simple enough confession that wouldn’t have
warranted holding his tongue or his averted gaze. No.

Pete had meant to say something more. Something stronger. Something more real. Vegas had asked
Pete to be open and he was struggling to do so, but his reluctance to express the full extent of his
affection for Vegas was the best gift Vegas could have ever received.

I care for you. Words almost untrue in their ability to fall short of Pete’s actual feelings.

There’s nothing else I could offer to make you know I… want you? Need you? Neither of which
would have warranted a halt any more than “I care for you” would have.

Lifting Pete’s chin so that Pete could look up, Vegas asked, “Do you love me, Pete?”

Pete’s eyes shifted to the side, once again. “Would you believe me if I told you so?”

“Answer the question.”

Steeling his gaze as the determined, calm look returned, he returned his eyes to Vegas. “I know you
love me.”

Vegas could hear the blood pumping in his ears, standing this close to Pete. He couldn’t believe he
was having a conversation with Pete about bites when they could have fucking. He could have
cum a bunch of times in the period since they’d started talking about this. His knot could have
locked them together, as he basked in the embrace of the man of his dreams, blissfully falling in
and out of sleep as biology took over.

Pushing Pete away by his hips, Vegas walked away. “You will never be honest with me.”

“Where are you going?”

“Home?” Vegas said.

“Don’t be silly,” Pete replied, following him.

“You can spend the night here. My men will be outside, but I’m going to find a unit and some
privacy. Get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Vegas!” Pete said sternly.

Vegas stopped where he was, his hand reaching for the old clothes he’d worn all day and sweated
in.

“You’re not listening to me.”

“Because you’re not saying anything.”

Wincing, Pete slowly lowered himself onto the bed as he said, “That day of the roof, when you
asked me to share cycle sex with you, I thought… I thought you were asking me to…” he toyed
with his lips in uncertainty. “I thought you wanted to mate with me.”

Inwardly, Vegas cringed, remembering that conversation and seeing how that could have been
construed from Pete’s point of view.

“I’d never even considered it before that moment, but when you said it, I,” he scoffed. “I don’t
know why but I hung on, hopefully. Of course, moments later you clarified that you just wanted to
fuck-”

“I didn’t just want to fuck you, Pete. It’s never been just that.”

“Then what do you want?” he asked. “From me. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

“I want you to tell me how you feel about me.”

Because Vegas’ cards were already on the table. Pete, discerning as he was, already knew how
Vegas felt. Pete had come into this life and he’d clung to Pete’s presence like it was a spring in a
desert. Saying that he was in love with Pete was almost inadequate as he couldn’t imagine his life
without Pete. He knew that. Pete knew that. Now that he’d mentioned a mutual, Vegas silently
knew he’d found his new obsession.

A one-way bite was never going to happen, but Vegas knew he’d be willing to give up any future
where he had to fuck other people if he could have Pete forever, his father be damned. He didn’t
need a bite to be repulsed by other sexual partners, Vegas was already sick just thinking of them.
Because they weren’t Pete and they never would be.

But Pete shook his head. “You called me a liar. Multiple times.” He smiled sadly. “I don't want to
say this to you and risk you not believing it.”

Sighing in exasperation, he said, “Instead of just telling the truth,” Vegas walked back to Pete,
ignoring the shards in his feet, till he was standing over Pete, once again. “You figured you’d
gamble with your freedom?”

“It isn’t a gamble if I know you’ll never take advantage of it.”

“That’s exactly what a gamble is, love,” Vegas said, stroking Pete’s face. “Your scent is
intoxicating.”

“So is yours,” Pete admitted, holding and kissing Vegas’ hand. Cradling Vegas’ hand, he said,
“One day, I’ll say it. When I know you’ll believe me, I’ll say it.”

“I already believe you.”

Against his good judgment, he leaned down and captured Pete’s lips in his, sucking on it, slipping
his tongue in as Pete returned the favor in every way, arching up to Vegas. Knowing they ought to
stop before they did anything they’d regret, Vegas pushed forward, moving Pete up the bed as they
continued to kiss.

He’d put it off too long and he didn’t think his body would listen if he tried to pull away. Pulling
off his nightshirt, quickly began to make quick work of Pete’s trousers, shucking them down as
Pete’s kisses intensified and his moaning grew louder and louder. When Vegas’ hands slipped
between Pete’s legs, he was shocked to find them wet and sleeky.

Pausing on their kisses, he looked at his hands, rubbing the substance he’d just touched.

“What is it?” Pete asked breathlessly, eyes drooping with desire, lips red from Vegas’ kisses.

“When was the last time you took your suppressants?” Vegas asked.
Pete’s eyes widened and drooped as he struggled to concentrate, no doubt trying to remember the
last time he’d taken his drugs. “Fuck,” he said. “Okay, don’t freak out.”

“Are you in heat?”

“A little bit?” he said, shrinking back against the bed and covering his mouth. “I won’t bite you, I
swear.”

Vegas moved Pete’s hand out of the way to kiss him again, this time, slowly, softly, in a willful
caress, until Pete began to loosen up again, reaching up to wrap his hands around Vegas’ neck.

“No wonder you smell like that,” Vegas said between kisses as pushed down his own trousers,
holding himself up by one hand as the other began to guide his dick into Pete.

Pete moaned as his ass, sleeked and ready, took Vegas in like it was meant to be like they were
made for each other. Staring into Pete’s eyes as his body molded around Vegas, Vegas finally
knew what it was like to believe in Heaven. A promise of euphoric satisfaction that he’d never
experienced anywhere else but in the embrace of the man beneath him.

“We’ve been reckless,” Vegas said, lowering his nose into Pete’s neck as he began to move. “I’m
rutting and you’re in heat.”

“We’ll be…” Pete said, voice breathless and moaning. “We’ll be careful.”

“Maybe I don’t want us to be careful.”

“What are you sa-what are you saying?” Pete asked, his legs wrapping around Vegas, as Vegas
began to move quicker.

“I’m saying,” he began. “That if I were to bite you,” he said, sucking lightly on Pete’s neck. “I’d
want you to bite me too.”

Pent up and craving satisfaction, Pete let out a small yelp as he came, his ass gripping Vegas’ dick
so hard that Vegas was thrust into an orgasm of his own. Grunting and cumming, he felt the tiny
knot at the tip of his dick grow.

Vegas welcomed the thugging strain of the knot as his orgasm intensified because of the knot,
nearly blacking him out as he fought for his breath. In opening his mouth, right there at Pete’s
neck, his mating teeth dropped once again.

This time, unable to help himself, Vegas dug his teeth right into the flesh on Pete’s neck.

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