***KAISENG PARK***

“Does he know what kind of alpha you are?”

The words replayed in Kaiseng’s mind as his fingers traced over the bare skin of Rian’s back. Morning light spilled through the sheer curtains, warming the quiet rhythm of Rian’s breathing against Kaiseng’s chest.

He knew exactly what kind of alpha he was.

A bonded alpha who had walked away from his omega.

Even now, with Rian warm beneath his hands, Kaiseng could feel himself pulling back—already cataloging exits, already rehearsing the distance he would put between them once the moment cracked. This reprieve felt temporary by nature. Something borrowed. Something he would have to return.

His fingers drifted higher, brushing the mark at the back of Rian’s neck.

He’d given it out of love. That much he didn’t question.

What haunted him was how easily that love kept pulling him back—how staying always felt simpler than leaving, even when leaving was the right thing to do. Peace like this never lasted. And someone had to be the one who let it go first. 

Loving Rian had already cost him everything.

The moment he chose him, the rest of his life had begun to unravel.

“You did what?”

His mother’s voice cut through the office like a blade, sharp enough that Kaiseng was sure the sound carried beyond the thick door of her office.

“I bond-marked him.” The words left Kaiseng’s mouth too quietly. Almost swallowed by the air.

His mother’s jaw tightened. Her eyes closed as she inhaled, long and controlled. “Kaiseng,” she said, softer now—but the disappointment was unmistakable. “Not only have you been stealing suppressants and blockers… you bonded.”

His own eyes slipped shut, bracing himself.

His father’s presence in the corner was impossible to ignore. Arms crossed. Scent flooding the room—dominant, heavy, disapproving.

“Thank you, Coach Daehyun,” his mother said crisply. “We’ll take it from here. Family matter.” Then, without looking at Kaiseng: “Rian’s documents will be updated. He’s barred from the upcoming matches. Omega division only.”

Daehyun stood slowly. He hesitated as he passed Kaiseng, voice low and apologetic. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “Rules exist for a reason.”

The door closed behind him with a final, echoing thud.

Silence.

“You’re eighteen,” his father began. “Do you have any understanding of what you’ve done by giving that boy your mark?”

“I—”

“You’ve bound yourself legally, biologically, socially,” his father cut in, voice rising. “You’ll have to register. You’ve ruined your prospects. How will you marry? How will you have children? Who will want a Park who can’t provide an heir?”

The words came faster. Louder.

“You’re a dominant alpha. Everything was lined up for you—and you threw it away so your friend could keep fighting alphas? You didn’t just endanger yourself. You endangered everyone else.”

Kaiseng’s throat felt like sandpaper.

“I…”

His voice wavered.

“I love him.”

The room went quiet in a way that felt heavier than shouting.

He hadn’t been naive. He hadn’t only bonded for something as hollow as secondary gender concealment. He had bonded because he loved Rian.

And in loving him, he had lost everything.

Hana had found out about them. The fallout had been ugly, inevitable. Kaiseng hadn’t wanted Leo or anyone else to be forced into choosing sides, so he’d stepped back before they could. He told himself it was the right thing to do. That this was simply the cost of staying.

The path Rian had chosen didn’t leave room for anything else. Not friends. Not family. Not stability. Everything became collateral.

Including himself.

And now… Bellamy.

The thought sat heavy in his chest.

His phone buzzed again on the bedside table—the third time that morning. 

“Answer it,” Rian murmured, stirring above him.

Kaiseng didn’t. He just tightened his grip on his phone and clicked it silent.

Before he could move, Rian sat up. One hand braced against Kaiseng’s chest, pinning him to the mattress as he swung a leg over his hips. The phone was snatched from Kaiseng’s hand. A second later, Bellamy’s voice filled the room.

“Hello?”

Kaiseng’s stomach dropped.

Rian smiled. That slow, lazy curve of his mouth that always made something hot and furious coil in Kaiseng’s chest.

“Hello?” Bellamy tried again. “Kaiseng?”

“Y-Yeah,” Kaiseng said, voice tight. “I’m here.”

“Hey… I just thought we should talk since you’re supposed to be back at work tomorrow.”

Rian’s free hand slid down Kaiseng’s chest, over his stomach. Kaiseng caught his wrist instantly, fingers digging in hard as he shot him a warning glare.

“Right now, or—?” Kaiseng asked, forcing his voice softer than he felt.

“Would you be able to meet up?” Bellamy continued. “We could grab coffee. Did you eat yet?”

Kaiseng hesitated, eyes locked on Rian’s.

“Meet me at the place we went to last time.”

“Okay.” A pause. “See you soon, Kai.”

The line went dead.

Silence filled the room.

Rian leaned closer, his breath brushing Kaiseng’s ear. “Didn’t want to say the location?” he murmured. “Afraid I’ll find him and hurt your new omega?”

Kaiseng’s jaw clenched.

“If I wanted to kill him,” Rian went on lazily, “I would’ve done it the first time you brought him here. Right on that couch. While he was choking on your dick.”

That was it.

Kaiseng’s hand gripped Rian's hip, fingers digging in as he flipped them in one sharp motion, sheets tangling as Rian’s back hit the mattress. Kaiseng loomed over him, one arm pinning Rian’s wrist above his head, the other tightening around his throat.

“If you ever touch him,” Kaiseng growled, “I will kill you.”

Rian didn’t struggle. Didn’t laugh. The playful edge drained from his face, leaving something unreadable behind his eyes. 

For a moment, they just stared at each other.

Then Kaiseng released him.

He stood, already pulling on his clothes. “I have to go,” he said flatly. “Lock up when you leave. See you next cycle.”

***

Kaiseng slowed as the coffee shop came into view.

They’d been here more times than he could count. Mornings after their shifts. Late afternoons on their nights off. 

His steps hesitated at the curb.

Rian’s words still echoed in the back of his mind.

While he was choking on your dick.

It hadn’t been the accusation that unsettled him—it was the certainty behind it. The way Rian had said it like fact, not guesswork. 

Maybe it had just been an easy assumption. A couch. A hookup. A logical conclusion. But Kaiseng’s instincts kept circling something else. A prickle at the base of his spine that didn’t fade no matter how many explanations he offered himself.

The bell above the door chimed softly as he stepped inside.

Warm air wrapped around him, heavy with the scent of coffee and sugar. Fresh pastries sat behind the glass counter, golden and untouched. Soft chatter drifted through the room, the low hum of conversation blending with the gentle music playing overhead.

His gaze lifted automatically to the corner table.

Bellamy sat where they always did—phone in one hand, the other resting loosely around a steaming cup. His shoulders were relaxed, posture easy, like this was just another quiet morning waiting for Kaiseng to arrive.

For a second, Kaiseng simply watched him.

The contrast hit harder than he expected.

No tension. No manipulation. No sharp edges. Just Bellamy, warm and present and waiting.

Bellamy looked up.

Their eyes met.

His face softened instantly, a small smile tugging at his lips as he lifted his hand in a gentle wave.

“Kai,” he said when Kaiseng approached, voice easy. “You made it.” He cleared his throat, fingers tightening slightly around his cup. “So… um.” Bellamy glanced down at the coffee, then back up at Kaiseng as he sat across from him. “I got your text that night.”

Kaiseng’s brows pulled together. “My—”

“You said you needed me.” Bellamy shrugged, a faint, uncertain smile pulling at his mouth. “And I knew you were in rut, so I figured… you know. That it was related.”

He didn’t remember sending anything like that. The night blurred at the edges—heat, Rian, Bellamy at the door, everything collapsing into noise and scent and instinct. Maybe he had typed something. Maybe he’d barely been aware of it.

Bellamy shifted in his seat. “I just… didn’t really expect to be invited to a threesome.”

Kaiseng blinked.

Bellamy rushed on, cheeks coloring. “Not that I’m opposed to it. I mean—we’re not exclusive or anything. I just would’ve liked a little warning, you know? To, uh… mentally prepare.”

He lifted his cup, taking a quick sip like he needed the caffeine as an emotional shield, eyes drifting briefly toward the rest of the café.

Kaiseng didn’t move.

This was not how he’d imagined this conversation going.

“I didn’t—” He stopped himself, pulse kicking up. The words felt tangled in his mouth. “I don’t remember inviting you to anything.”

Bellamy hesitated. “Well… the message said you needed me. And then when I showed up…” He winced slightly. “I just didn’t want to make things weird. So I left.”

Silence stretched between them.

Kaiseng’s thoughts raced.

“Was that your bonded?”

“Yes.” The word came out simple. Final. Then, after a beat, “We aren’t together anymore. It’s just…”

“Hey.” Bellamy’s smile was gentle as he reached across the table, his hand resting briefly over Kaiseng’s. Warm. Steady. “You don’t have to explain.” He pulled back a moment later, voice light. “Besides, we’re just friends. So it doesn’t really matter. Right?”

The space where his hand had been felt colder than it should have.

Something heavy settled in Kaiseng’s chest — an ache he didn’t quite have a name for. It was childish to think of it as a breakup. There had never been labels. Never promises.

But his body didn’t seem to know the difference.

His hand moved across the table, slow and uncertain, before stopping just short of Bellamy’s. A soft smile curved his lips instead. “Right… Well, I’m glad we could clear this up. And I’m sorry for messaging you. It was a mistake.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy said with a light chuckle. “A mistake.”

Kaiseng’s gaze drifted across the café. A couple stood at the counter, arms linked as they leaned into each other, murmuring over the menu. Their shoulders brushed. Their laughter was quiet, unguarded. Easy.

Softness.

Genuineness.

Something real.

The sight twisted something in his chest.

A darker thought followed.

If Rian were dead—truly dead, not just buried in the past—could he have something like that?

Something simple.

Something safe.

Something like Bellamy.