Felix pouted his rosy lips, tilting his head in pure confusion as he noticed the giant tycoon staring at him with a bright red, blushing face.
"Oh great," Felix muttered to himself in disbelief. "Another member of that blonde boyband. Why is he blushing like a schoolgirl? Is the heating broken in this palace?"
Felix gave Richard a sweet, completely fake angelic smile and a polite little bow. "Pardon me, sir! I got terribly lost looking for the terrace. Have a wonderful night!"
Felix turned on his heel and walked away with the fluid, graceful stride of a professional model, disappearing down the grand stairwell. Richard stood completely frozen in the empty hallway for a full minute, his hands trembling slightly as he touched his burning, blushing cheeks.
"He... he smiled at me," Richard clutched his chest, his voice trembling with deep infatuation. "He called me 'sir'... Oh my god, who is he?!"
Downstairs, the ground-floor ballroom was a chaotic sea of high-society politics. Miya stood near the edge of the dance floor, holding a glass of untouched champagne, radiating a dangerously cool, dominant Alpha aura. Suddenly, a flock of gorgeous, high-society Omegas noticed her, drawn to her striking looks and wealthy Alpha presence. They swarmed her like moths to a flame, releasing sweet scents of vanilla and jasmine, desperately asking for her name and begging to buy her a drink.
Miya kept a smooth, perfectly charming smirk on her face, playing the role of the polite entrepreneur. "You ladies are far too kind. Excuse me for just a moment, my beautiful darlings. I see a business associate I must speak with."
With a graceful nod, Miya slipped past the disappointed Omegas, her sharp eyes instantly locking onto her prey. She followed the second informant out of the ballroom and into the dark, glass-roofed conservatory. The room was filled with exotic, towering tropical plants casting deep shadows under the moonlight.
The informant, a corrupt hedge-fund manager, paced nervously near a massive fern, hissing into his encrypted phone. "I’m telling you, the first informant isn't answering his earpiece! Something is wrong. We need to secure the investments for the 'Elysium-9' distribution network and get out of here—"
SNAP.
The informant froze. From behind a massive palm tree, Miya stepped into the moonlight. The charming Alpha who was just smiling at the Omegas was completely gone. In her place stood Jade—a cold, ruthless predator.
"Who the hell are you?!" the informant panicked, reaching into his suit jacket for a hidden gun. "Security—"
Before he could even touch his weapon, Miya closed the distance with terrifying speed.
THWACK.
Miya delivered a devastating, silent palm-strike directly to the man’s throat, completely crushing his windpipe and cutting off his scream. As he stumbled backward, gasping for air, Miya grabbed his wrist, twisted his arm behind his back with a sickening CRACK, and slammed his face hard against the marble planter edge. The man went completely limp, unconscious and suffocating.
Without missing a beat, Miya reached into his coat, pulled out his encrypted phone and a flash drive containing investor logs, and dragged his body deep into the thick foliage of the tropical bushes. She stepped back into the moonlight, smoothly brushing a rogue leaf off her tuxedo lapel.
"Target down. Two out of three eliminated," Miya muttered coldly. Her earpiece chimed with a soft buzz, and Felix's cheerful, goofy voice popped through.
“Miya, bestie! Where are you? I just ran into three different blonde giant guys who kept staring at me like weirdos. I think the Spanish elite are completely crazy. Let's go home and eat snacks!”
Miya let out a soft laugh, her terrifying assassin aura instantly melting back into her usual sarcastic self. "Copy that, Velvet. Grab the sports car. Let's get out of here before this 'boyband' throws you an empire."
But escaping the gala wasn't going to be that simple. The energy in the main ballroom suddenly reached a fever pitch as the heavy bass of the music shook the crystal chandeliers. In the center of the room, a massive circle formed as high-society guests cheered, clapped, and chanted in unison: "LUKE! LUKE! LUKE!"
Luke Destiano smoothly stepped onto the glittering floor, loosening his black silk tie with a confident smirk. The crowd went absolutely feral, desperate to see the five-time Olympic dance champion bust some moves.
Near the back bar, Felix was sipping a bright pink cocktail through a straw. He groaned loudly, his rosy pink eyes narrowing in pure irritation.
"Ugh! Are you serious?" Felix pouted, tossing his silky black hair back. "This blonde giant is totally ruining the vibe. The music is supposed to be for everyone, not a one-man boyband ego show!"
Before Miya could stop him, Felix slammed his cocktail glass onto the counter, stepped directly into the center of the circle, and pointed a slim, elegant finger straight at Luke. "Hey! Sit down, superstar! I can dance ten times better than you!"
The entire ballroom goes dead silent. Guests gasped, dropping their jaws.
Luke froze, his icy blue eyes locking onto Felix. The moment he saw the gorgeous, pale-skinned man with the swollen rosy eyes—the exact "scentless void" his Alpha instincts were hunting for—a violent spark of interest ignited in his chest. Luke smiled, stepping closer, his massive 6'2 frame towering over Felix.
"Oh? A challenge?" Luke's voice was deep, smooth, and teasing. "You've got confidence, sweetheart. Let's see if you have the skill to back it up."
Felix smirked, his eyes glittering with the deadly, competitive fire of Velvet Trigger. He switched effortlessly into a flawless, captivating Spanish accent. "Prepárate para presenciar la perfección sin esfuerzo. (Get ready to witness effortless perfection.)"
Up on the elevated DJ booth, Emily Destiano squealed into her microphone, dropping a heavy, modern remix of a legendary Spain classic, the traditional acoustic guitar rhythms blending with a roaring high-society club beat.
Luke and Felix instantly turned to the crowd to grab random dance partners to start the battle. Luke smoothly spun a gorgeous young heiress onto the floor, while Felix grabbed a handsome young Alpha guest, flashing him a heart-melting, cute smile that made the poor guy completely blush.
The battle began. Luke moved with the terrifying, hypnotic grace of a predator, executing flawless, sharp modern-flamenco footwork. Across from him, Felix matched him beat-for-beat, his lean, flexible assassin body twisting and gliding with unbelievable fluid precision, his burgundy jacket swirling beautifully in the strobe lights. The crowd cheered wildly, completely stunned by the sheer aura of perfection radiating from both of them.
After a grueling, high-tempo verse, the music dropped into a sudden, temporary slow bridge. Both Luke and Felix broke away from their partners at the exact same time, walking back to the VIP bar counter side-by-side. Without breaking eye contact, they both grabbed a shot of tequila from the bartender, clinked their glasses together, and slammed them down in unison.
"Not bad, art student," Luke panted slightly, a dark smirk on his face. "But you're holding back."
"Please. I'm just getting warmed up, boyband," Felix sucked on his bottom lip, looking effortlessly beautiful.
The music suddenly intensified, the Spanish acoustic guitars roaring back with double the speed and violence. Felix and Luke spun back onto the floor to grab their partners again—but within three seconds, a massive problem arose. The tempo was too fast. The choreography was too complex. Luke tries to spin his heiress partner, but she stumbles, completely unable to keep up with his Olympic pacing. Felix tries to dip his Alpha partner, but the guy is too slow, nearly tripping over his own feet trying to follow Felix's fluid, lightning-fast assassin reflexes. Both of their partners were completely slowing them down.
Luke and Felix looked at each other across the floor. Their eyes locked. They didn't even need to speak.
With a synchronized, graceful push, they both released their clumsy partners. Luke stepped forward, his massive hand shooting out to firmly grip Felix’s waist. Felix didn't flinch; he places his hand sharply on Luke's broad shoulder, their bodies colliding perfectly in the center of the room.
The crowd held its collective breath. They began to dance together.
It was absolute magic. An Alpha dance god and a hidden Omega assassin, moving in perfect, lethal synchronization. Luke lifted Felix effortlessly, Felix’s body arching with breathtaking flexibility under the flashing lights. They spun, advanced, and retreated like two tigers locking horns, their combined aura of visual perfection completely paralyzing the entire ballroom. They were moving so fast, with so much fire, that they took brief, half-second pauses near the passing waiters, snatching glasses of champagne mid-spin, swallowing the liquid, and throwing the empty glasses behind them without ever breaking their rhythm or their intense, locked gaze.
As the final, explosive chord of the Spanish classic echoed through the hall, Luke gripped Felix's waist tight, pulling Felix's lean chest flush against his massive tuxedo jacket, dipping him low to the floor. They froze in the final pose, their faces inches apart, breathing heavily as hundreds of paparazzi camera flashes exploded around them like a wall of lightning.
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