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The fancy bedroom smelled weird. Like strong cleaning stuff mixed with expensive perfume. In the middle of the room, on the huge bed, lay Kyrian Volkov. He was buried under piles of silk sheets. Out cold. Not moving.
A doctor was checking his pulse, but his hands were shaking. He looked scared. Nearby, a man in a sharp black suit sat on the velvet couch. Ivan Volkov. He was watching everything closely. Like a hawk. The doctor finished up. He turned around, looking super nervous. "Mr. Volkov," the doctor fixed his glasses on his nose. "He passed out again. It’s the Alpha pheromones. Being around such strong ones for too long... well, his body just couldn't take the pressure. It was too much." Ivan didn't say a word. His face was blank. "I gave him the medicine," the doctor added fast. "He'll be back to normal soon." Ivan looked at him. Nodded once. "Thanks, Doctor," he said. His voice was heavy with a thick Russian accent. Suddenly, the big wooden doors flew open. "Ivan!" Arina Volkov rushed inside. Her heels clicked loud and fast on the floor. She ignored Ivan completely and ran straight to the bed. Her face was pale. "What happened to Kyrian? Why didn't you call me right away?" "Relax, Mom," Ivan stood up calmly. "Calm down. He is fine. The doctor said it was just a sudden spike in Alpha pheromones at the party. He’s stable now." Arina let out a shaky breath. She brushed some hair off Kyrian's sweaty forehead and sat gently on the edge of the bed. "This boy is going to be the death of me one day," she whispered, holding his hand tight. A low groan broke the quiet room. Kyrian squeezed his eyes shut. He flinched at the bright chandelier lights. "Rian... open your eyes, baby," Arina said softly. Kyrian blinked his eyelashes open slowly. Everything looked blurry. "Mom?" his voice sounded scratchy. "You scared me again, baby," she said, kissing his head. Kyrian tried to sit up. Felt weak. "I am fine, Mom... don't worry. Just a little dizzy." "You need rest," she insisted. She tucked the blanket around him tight like he was still five years old. "I am going to make some porridge for you. Don't you dare move." As soon as Arina left the room, the silence came back. Then Ivan broke it. "You can't stay away from a doctor for too long, can you, little brother?" Ivan chuckled. He leaned against the doorframe with a smirk. Kyrian rolled his eyes. Rubbed his temples. "Shut up, Ivan." "This is the fourth time this month," Ivan teased. He counted on his fingers. "Are you planning to make a World Record for fainting? Because I think you're winning." "Get out!" Kyrian groaned. He was annoyed. He grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it hard at his laughing brother. DOWNSTAIRS - THE LIVING ROOM The air in the big hall felt heavy. Suffocating. Sitting on the main armchair was Kirill Volkov. The head of the Russian Mafia. Usually, he was calm, but today he was dead silent. That silence was dangerous. It meant something was bothering the man who controlled everything. Ivan walked down the stairs. He went over carefully. "What happened, Dad?" Ivan asked, standing in front of him. "Something bothering you?" Kirill let out a long, heavy sigh. He stayed quiet for a second before speaking in that deep, rumbling voice. "How is Kyrian?" "He is fine," Ivan answered fast. "Sleeping right now." Kirill nodded. He looked relieved. Then his face got hard again. Business mode. "I want you to join the meeting in Monte Carlo," Kirill said. His eyes were sharp. "It's at the Moretti Casino. Vincenzo's older son will be there." Ivan narrowed his eyes. "The Morettis?" "Yes," Kirill went on. "You have to talk to him about the place near the sea. We need to secure that spot for our new lounge. It's crucial." "Don't worry, Dad," Ivan buttoned his suit jacket. "I will talk to him. I’ll try to sort it all out just by talking." "Hmm." Kirill leaned back. He looked grim. "Make sure to take the full security team with you. It’s neutral territory, but shady stuff happens under the table. Be careful." Ivan nodded. "Consider it done."12:00 PM - THE TOUR Isabella's heels clicked against the marble floors as she led Kyrian through hallways that seemed to go on forever. Everything was pristine. Expensive. Cold. "The estate has forty-two rooms," Isabella said conversationally, as if that were normal. "Twelve bedrooms, seven bathrooms, two libraries, a ballroom, indoor pool, gym, wine cellar, and of course, the security wing." "Security wing?" Kyrian asked. "Where Lorenzo conducts business. You won't be going there." "Wasn't planning on it." Isabella glanced at him, amused. "You have spirit. Most Omegas would be trembling right now." "I'm not most Omegas." "Clearly." They climbed a grand staircase to the second floor. The hallway here was lined with portraits—generations of Morettis staring down with dark, judgmental eyes. "Your family looks cheerful," Kyrian said dryly. "We're Italians. We save our smiles for family dinners and funerals." She stopped at a door near the end of the hall. "This is yours."
8:00 AM - VOLKOV MANSION Kyrian woke up to his phone buzzing insistently. He grabbed it, squinting at the screen. Unknown Number (7:45 AM): Good morning, Little Volkov. I hope you slept well. Unknown Number (7:50 AM): I'm coming to see you this morning. Be ready. Unknown Number (7:55 AM): And wear something nice. I like you better when you're not trying to kill me. Kyrian threw his phone across the bed. "He's insane," he muttered. "Completely insane." But his heart was racing—not entirely from anger. There was something else. Curiosity? Fear? He couldn't name it. He got out of bed and walked to his window. The morning sun was bright, the gardens peaceful. For a moment, he could almost forget about Lorenzo Moretti. Almost. His door burst open without warning. Ivan rushed in, looking panicked. "Get dressed. Now." "Good morning to you too—" "Kyrian, I'm serious. Moretti just called Dad. He's coming here. In thirty minutes." Kyrian's stomach dropped. "What?" "You hea
THE CAR RIDE The leather seats of the limousine were cold against Kyrian's burning skin. He sat pressed against the window, arms crossed, jaw clenched so tight it ached. His heart was still pounding—not from fear, but from pure, unfiltered rage. Seo-joon sat across from him, silent. He hadn't said a word since they'd left the casino. He just watched Kyrian with those sharp, calculating eyes. Finally, Kyrian couldn't take it anymore. "Say it," Kyrian snapped, glaring at him. "I know you want to lecture me." Seo-joon sighed, removing his glasses to clean them with his handkerchief. A nervous habit. "Do you have any idea what you just did, Rian?" "I defended myself," Kyrian shot back immediately. "That bastard grabbed me first. What was I supposed to do? Thank him?" "You threw alcohol on Lorenzo Moretti's face," Seo-joon said slowly, emphasizing each word. "In front of half of Monaco's elite. In his own casino." "Good," Kyrian spat. "Maybe next time he'll think twice before pu
THE MORETTI MANSION - THE RAGE The atmosphere inside the Moretti Estate was explosive. Vincenzo Moretti paced around the grand library, his face red with fury. He picked up a crystal vase and hurled it against the wall. CRASH! "A laughing stock!" Vincenzo roared, pointing at the large screen where the news was replaying the clip of Kyrian throwing the drink. "The Don of Monaco... humiliated by a child! The Russians are laughing, Lorenzo! The Rossis are laughing!" Isabella sat on the velvet sofa, looking anxious. "Vincenzo, calm down. Your blood pressure..." "To hell with my blood pressure!" Vincenzo shouted. He turned to Lorenzo, who was sitting calmly in a leather armchair, swirling a glass of red wine. Lorenzo looked bored. He watched the video on loop—specifically the moment Kyrian’s eyes flashed with anger. "Why are you so silent?" Vincenzo demanded. "You should be burning their warehouse right now! You should be demanding Kirill’s head!" Matteo, who was leaning against
"Hyung! You should have told me before coming here! I would have come to the airport!" Kyrian whined, pulling back from the hug but keeping his hands on the man's shoulders.Sergey, standing awkwardly to the side, cleared his throat loudly. He nudged Kyrian’s arm."Hey... who is this 'Hyung'?"Kyrian blinked, realizing he hadn't introduced them."Oh! Sergey, this is Kim Seo-joon,"Kyrian said, beaming. "But I call him Joon-Hyung. He was the one I stayed with in Korea while Dad was doing business there. He basically raised me for two years."He turned to Seo-joon. "Hyung, means 'Big Brother' in Korean.And Hyung, this is Sergey, my best friend."Seo-joon adjusted his rimless glasses, a polite, charming smile playing on his lips. He looked every bit the powerful CEO—sharp grey suit, perfectly styled hair, and an aura of calm authority."Nice to meet you, Sergey," Seo-joon said, his voice smooth. Then he looked at Kyrian teasingly."Is he the one you were cursing to a few minutes ago?"
"Hyung! You should have told me before coming here! I would have come to the airport!" Kyrian whined, pulling back from the hug but keeping his hands on the man's shoulders.Sergey, standing awkwardly to the side, cleared his throat loudly. He nudged Kyrian’s arm."Hey... who is this 'Hyung'?"Kyrian blinked, realizing he hadn't introduced them."Oh! Sergey, this is Kim Seo-joon,"Kyrian said, beaming. "But I call him Joon-Hyung. He was the one I stayed with in Korea while Dad was doing business there. He basically raised me for two years."He turned to Seo-joon. "Hyung, means 'Big Brother' in Korean.And Hyung, this is Sergey, my best friend."Seo-joon adjusted his rimless glasses, a polite, charming smile playing on his lips. He looked every bit the powerful CEO—sharp grey suit, perfectly styled hair, and an aura of calm authority."Nice to meet you, Sergey," Seo-joon said, his voice smooth. Then he looked at Kyrian teasingly."Is he the one you were cursing to a few minutes ago?"







