CHAPTER 𝟮: "CONTRACT"

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Jae-min slammed his palms against the car window, wrists bruising under the iron grip of the man beside him.

“Do you fucking mind?!” he snapped, Korean sharp and fast. “You can’t just kidnap me because you’re bored or horny or whatever the fuck your problem is—”

A gloved hand caught his chin, forced his face forward. The man’s voice cut like gravel and vodka.

“Shut. Up.”

Two words, and the brat’s spine locked. Rage flared, but something else did too—something hotter, heavier, slinking through his blood. Fuck. Alpha voice.

The car glided through midnight streets, tinted windows hiding him from the world he thought he owned. Every turn was a nail in the coffin of his freedom. By the time they pulled into a sprawling estate of black stone and gold gates, Jae-min’s smirk had frayed into a twitch.

Dragged inside, he was thrown into a room that looked more like a cathedral than an office—velvet curtains, chandeliers dripping crystals, long oak table. Men in suits waited there, older, cold-eyed. Power hummed through the air like static.

And at the head of the table: the man. Cigar smoke curled from his fingers. Gray eyes bored into him.

“Sit.”

“I’m not your dog,” Jae-min spat.

The man’s brow arched. “Then stop whining like one.”

Gasps, a few muffled chuckles from the men in the room. Jae-min flushed crimson, hissing curses in Korean under his breath.

The man slid a folder across the table. Papers. Stamped, signed, inked in both Korean and Russian.

A marriage contract.

Jae-min blinked. Then laughed—sharp, too loud, borderline hysterical. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

No one else laughed.

The man leaned forward, voice steady, deliberate. “Your father agreed. His son trespassed. His son belongs to me now. This marriage binds our families. Ends the blood war before it starts.”

“My father agreed?!” Jae-min’s voice cracked into fury. “What am I, some fucking—fucking pawn you can shove across a chessboard?!”

“You’re an Omega,” the man said simply. “And the last one either of us can afford to waste.”

Jae-min froze. His chest tightened, breath shallow. They knew. No more hiding, no more suppressants. The secret that made him vulnerable was out, and in this room full of predators, it was lethal.

The man’s gloved fingers tapped the table once, sharp. “Sign it.”

Jae-min shoved the papers back. “Fuck you. I’m not marrying some—some old Russian bastard with control issues!”

The man rose, slow, towering. He circled the table like a wolf circling meat. Jae-min’s heart pounded harder with every step until the man stood behind him, hand gripping his shoulder, pressing him down into the chair.

“You will sign,” he murmured, lips grazing the shell of his ear. “Or I’ll take you without the contract. At least this way, you get velvet with the chains.”

Jae-min shuddered. Hated himself for it. “You’re insane.”

“No,” the man said softly. “I’m patient. And I always get what’s mine.”

A gold pen slid in front of him.

The room was silent, thick with power and threat.

Jae-min stared at the paper, hands shaking with fury. Every cell screamed don’t do it. But every instinct whispered what his pride refused to admit: Omegas didn’t get to say no to Alphas like him.

He grabbed the pen. Signed with a slash of ink so violent it nearly tore the paper.

When it was done, the man’s hand smoothed over the back of his neck—warm, firm, claiming.

“Good boy.”

Jae-min’s teeth bared in a snarl. “Fuck you.”

But the worst part?

The heat in his stomach didn’t feel like hate at all.

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