“Jonah?” His brother's voice cut through the chaos like a lifeline.

June’s gaze was locked on him, scanning desperately. “You know these guys?”

Jonah’s lips trembled. They were swollen, raw from biting them too tightly, but he forced them harder together. Teeth pressed into flesh as if locking the words away might contain the chaos inside him. But the venom couldn’t be held any longer.

“They’re… the same alphas,” he spat, voice breaking, harsh, guttural. Every syllable clawed its way out, sharp as knives.  

Every head snapped toward him.

June’s arms opened slightly, like he wanted to shield Jonah, but before he could move, a firm shove slammed into his shoulder.

Jolly stepped inside, grin stretching lazily across his face. “You guys should give us proper hospitality,” he said, voice casual, dripping with mockery. “We came all this way to check on your raped omega,” the taunt lingered, sharp and deliberate, “and this is how we're treated?”

Yun followed him in, his hand came up pressing into the beta’s chest and shoving him back again just as he tried to steady himself from the first blow against the doorframe.

“Really,” Yun murmured, his voice silk over steel, “Most people wouldn't bother with damaged goods.”

June’s jaw clenched. He had been holding himself still while their father spewed poison, and now hearing these insults from the very men who had terrorized his brother, something inside him snapped.

Both restrained hands were on Jolly in an instant, gripping the front of his shirt, yanking him forward with brutal force. The Alpha just let himself be manhandled, grin fixed, eyes sparkling with that same malicious amusement.

“Who the hell do you think you are?!” June’s voice was a roar.

Jolly tilted his head. “Big bad beta finally showing some teeth.” he said lazily. “I like it.”

But June didn’t release. Every inch of his body burned with protective heat. “You hear me?!” His teeth ground, voice cracking with fury. “Say another word about my brother and I will end you!”

Jolly’s eyes flickered briefly, but the grin remained. “Mmm… very protective. I could almost… admire it,” he said, letting June feel the edge of control slip between them.

“Do it again,” June hissed, fingers tightening on the Alpha's collar, knuckles whitening. “and I'll fuck your mind bastard.”  

His fist was already in motion, veins standing out beneath his skin, arm coiled with every ounce of fury that had been building since the moment he opened the door.  

Or at least, he tried to.

“June, stop.”

His father's sharp command freezing June’s fist in mid-air. The knuckles hovered inches from Jolly's face, so close he could feel the faint warmth of his breath, see the way that infuriating smile didn’t even twitch.

For a second, his entire body screamed at him to finish it. To wipe that grin off his face. To make him feel even a fraction of what Jonah felt.

But his father's voice was still echoing in his ears, and June had been trained his whole life to obey that voice, to stop when it said stop, to move when it said move.

Adrenaline was still pumping through June’s veins, hot and desperate, making his vision sharp. He turned his head, his eyes finding his father across the room, and the words came out before he could stop them.

“This masochistic bastard needs to get his head smashed in before he learns how to—” June’s voice was rising, cracking at the edges, the control he had been clinging to slipping through his fingers like water. “Father, did you hear—”

“Enough.” His father's voice was final. “Take your mother and go back to your room. This conversation does not need you two.”

“You’re telling me to walk away?” June’s voice dropped, shaking now. “After what they just said? After what they—”

“I said leave.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Jolly pried the loosened fingers off his collar.

“Ah… what a shame,” Jolly muttered, rolling his shoulders lazily. “I was starting to enjoy that.”

His eyes flicked briefly toward Jonah again. “Your brother’s got spirit,” he added lightly. “Didn’t expect that.”

As soon as June disappeared down the hallway with their mother, the air in the living room changed.

Like something ugly had finally been given space to breathe. For the first time since the intruders stepped inside, Jonah’s father shifted his full attention onto them.

“I don’t have the time,” he said, his voice measured to the point of coldness, “to entertain criminals who would dare step into my home after committing something I hold in absolute contempt.” 

When his obsidian eyes locked onto both of them, the chill in them was enough to freeze blood where it ran.

“There’s no such intention of inviting rumors,” his father continued, taking a step forward, positioning himself, so Jonah was no longer directly in their line of sight. “that my elder son bears any resemblance to the criminals who laid their hands on my youngest. So do not mistake my restraint for permission.”

For a brief moment, it worked, just enough to fracture their confidence.

Jolly’s grin faltered, if only for a second, his body instinctively leaning back from the man who looked at him like something to be discarded.

Even Yun stilled, the slightest tension creeping into his shoulders, his fingers going motionless at his side.

But the moment passed. Calculation flickered in Jolly’s eyes, and at the subtle cue, Yun stepped forward, reclaiming the space with a renewed, confident posture.

Even then, the edge of it was visible, this was a gamble, and they knew it could just as easily turn against them.

“Oh…” he exhaled softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yes. Rumors…”

His voice was smooth, carefully so. But beneath it, there was a tight thread of fear. “…we wouldn’t want to spread any rumors about our chairman, would we?”

Holding onto Jonah’s father’s title, his authority, the weight of the position that defined him more than his own name, Yun wielded it like a lifeline.  

“That’s actually why we came all the way here,” Yun added, tilting his head slightly.

Then Jolly chuckled, stepping in beside him, his hand coming up to pat Yun’s shoulder like this was some casual conversation.

“Yeah,” he chimed in lightly, grin returning in full force now. “We’re just… thoughtful like that.”

Jonah’s father’s expression didn’t change. He raised a brow slightly, voice dropping into something far more lethal. “Explain.”

“Let’s call it… mutual understanding.” Jolly replied, his tone effortless, like a man who had long anticipated this exact instant. His hand slipped into his back pocket.

Jonah’s stomach churned. Something in his chest knew before his mind could catch up.

Plain black phone slipped from his pocket, unremarkable yet heavy with intent. With a few measured steps, Jolly found what he wanted. His smirk twisted into something more unhinged as he glanced up at Jonah’s father.

“See for yourself,” he said, thumb tapping, once, twice, each press deliberate, slow, and almost taunting.

Images appeared blurry at first as the phone was turned toward his father. Jonah didn’t need to see it. His own voice, raw and fractured, cut through the room. The sounds he had been trying to forget, heard the begging, the crying, the desperate please, please, please that had been torn from his throat while hands held him down and bodies used him multiple times.

Jonah's father’s face went pale, the color draining as if the air itself had been sucked away. Hands fell from behind his back, arms limp at his sides, his body locking in rigid shock. Those obsidian eyes were fixed on the phone in Jolly’s hand, unblinking.

The video was still playing, still filling the room with sounds that should never have existed.

After a few more torturous seconds, the thumb lifted, and the screen went dark. Yet Jonah’s father was still staring at the place where his son's destruction had been playing, and his hands were shaking.

Jolly tucked the phone away with deliberate care, his eyes never leaving Jonah’s father's face. “Imagine what people would think,” he said softly. “The great chairman's little omega can't keep his legs closed.”

That sick, satisfied gleam in his eyes deepened as he tilted his head.

“Don’t you think,” he murmured, “a video like that would... sell quite well online?”

One second Jonah’s father was standing rigid and the next, his arm lashed out. A fist, fast and brutal, fueled by something that had finally broken loose, cut straight through the air, aimed clean for Jolly’s face.

There was nothing restrained about it. It was meant to crush.

“—!”

Just then, a hand caught his wrist mid-swing. The impact still carried through, the force of it enough to jolt Jolly’s head slightly to the side, his hair shifting with the near-miss, but the blow itself never connected.

Yun stood there, fingers locked tight around the Chairman’s wrist. The sheer, suffocating pressure rolling off the man in front of him.

His breath hitched, which was barely noticeable, but sweat had already started to bead at his temple. His grip tightened instinctively.

Because if he let go, even for a second, that fist would land. And it wouldn’t just end in blood.

“Violence… isn’t the best option, Chairman,” Yun said, voice smooth but the strain beneath it trembled like a stretched wire ready to snap.

“We apologize,” he continued, forcing the words out evenly, “if our offer came across as a joke. But we're quite serious about your reputation.” His arm was shaking, his grip faltering, the bones in his hand grinding together under the pressure of holding back a force that should not have been possible.

“Don't you think,” His voice cracked on the desperation that was finally breaking through the mask, “there's a better option?”

It was enough to make Jonah’s father pause. His eyes, dark, empty, burning with something unreadable, locked onto Yun.

“…Watch your words,” he said, every syllable edged with something lethal.

“How about this,” Yun said, cutting clean through the tension before it could turn against him. “sell your useless Omega son to us.”

The tension broke apart as Jonah’s father's fingers slowly uncurled, one by one, like the strength had been pulled right out of them.  

Right on cue, Yun released the man’s wrist, letting his hand fall back.

“You get to keep your reputation,” Yun went on, tilting his head slightly, watching carefully. “No scandals. No one dragging your name through the dirt.”

A faint smile touched his lips. “And we take care of… the problem.”

From his pocket, he fished out a crumpled dollar bill, holding it out like an offering. The amount on it was small, insultingly so. 

Because this was never about fairness. It was about proving how easily something priceless could be reduced to nothing.

“Let’s be honest,” Yun added, quieter now. “What use is he to you?” Each word landed like a blade.

“Other than dragging you down?”

And just like that, Jonah was dragged out of his own home, forcefully, mercilessly, by the same hands that had broken him, the same men who now claimed him without resistance.

Right in front of his father. A father who didn’t even look at him.

No matter how long Jonah begged. No matter how his voice cracked, how tears streamed endlessly down his face, how he struggled against the grip bruising his arms, digging his heels into the floor.

no one cared.

For five dollar, he was handed over. It was almost laughable. His worth, no more than the shattered vase his father had thrown moments ago.

Years had bled into an indistinguishable, eternal night since the day Jonah’s world shrank to the four soundproofed walls of a basement. The five Alphas who had torn his life apart consumed him, a relentless cycle that stripped away the last vestiges of his self. He became a hollow vessel, filled and discarded multiple times a day, their scents and cruelties blending into a single, suffocating presence. He lost count of the pregnancies, swollen bellies that were never allowed to grow. The moment a new life was confirmed, it was met with a brutal, calculated kick to his stomach, a ritual of destruction performed with chilling indifference until his body obeyed and bled. The pain became a language, and its only message was that he was nothing. Now, even the thought of rescue feels like a cruel joke. Hope is a scar tissue he can no longer feel. Simply waiting for his death, the only door left in this hell that might finally lead him out.

To be continued...