Chapter 3: Mine in Everyway

Julian wakes to sunlight slicing through the half-open curtains of the hotel suite. His body aches everywhere--deep bruises on his hips, a bite mark throbbing on his neck, and a raw soreness between his legs that makes every shift painful. The sheets cling to his skin, sticky with the remnants of last night’s frenzy.

The man is a beast in bed!

Enzo's pheromones still linger in the room, but they smell far calmer now, settling with the Aircon.

Enzo stands by the window, already dressed in a crisp black shirt and trousers, scrolling through his phone. The two thick stacks of cash remain untouched on the nightstand.

Julian sits up slowly, wincing as he reaches for his discarded hoodie and jeans scattered on the floor.

"You're leaving," Enzo states, not a question. He turns, eyes tracing Julian's marked neck and the way he limps toward his clothes. His silver eyes flash possessively.

Julian doesn't respond, pulling his jeans back up with trembling hands.

Enzo frowns slightly. "Give me your number. I'll call you over when I need you again. I'll pay good."

Julian freezes, fingers tightening around his mother's necklace. The memory of Enzo's brutal thrusts, the knot swelling inside him, the way his body betrayed him with unwanted pleasure--it all surges back.

No. No way he's doing that again.

He shakes his head. "No. We had a deal. One night. That's it."

Enzo's eyes darken. No one has dared refuse him before. He stands, silver eyes digging at him. "You took the money. You took my knot. Don't pretend you didn't like it too--the way your body responded to me. I want more."

Julian's heart pounds, but he stands his ground, shifting back and putting some distance between them.

He zips his hoodie up, ignoring the fresh bruises. "I'm not interested. I'm leaving." He grabs the wads of cash anyway--survival over pride--and shoves it into his pocket. And before Enzo says another word else, Julian slips out the door, ignoring the Alpha's low growl of warning.

The hallway feels endless as he limps toward the elevator, ankle still swollen from the night before, but he doesn't stop. Doesn't look back.

Down in the lobby, Julian pushes through revolving doors into the bright Los Angeles morning. Horns blare on the street. Tourists snapping photos of the hotel's grand entrance.

He hails a cab, sliding into the back seat with a hiss of pain. "Main market. Fast." The driver eyes the bruises on his neck suspiciously through the review mirror, but pulls away.

Julian clutches the necklace, breathing hard. He has a friend at the market, he can hide there till the search settles. Then he would move to another city, start afresh.

That's the plan.

---

Back in the suite, Enzo pours himself a black coffee, staring at the closed door. The calm in his blood still hums-- unusual but addictive. No rage bubbling under his skin, no urge to destroy the room.

That Omega did something to him, and he wants to feel it again.

He sets the cup down, already planning his next move, when a knock resonates from behind the door.

Two of his men enter, looking uneasy-- the kind of expression they wear when they've fucked up.

The taller one, Marco, clears his throat. "Boss, bad news. The Omega the father-in-debt sold us--the one we were supposed to pick up--he ran again during the skirmish on Sixth. We lost him during the brawl. Drug wore off faster than expected."

Enzo's glares at them. "Why are you telling me this?" He flicks them off, "I don't care about some random omega-- all I care about is my money."

Rico, the second one shifts on his feet. "We just-- we thought you'd like that one, though. Young, untouched with a pretty face. Fought like hell too. Figured he'd match your… tastes."

Before Enzo can brush them off again, he pulls out his phone and swipes to a photo, turning the screen toward Enzo.

It's grainy, taken in the dark--Julian besides the stall where they'd first caught him, hood down, fear in his eyes, the silver necklace glinting under the headlights.

His calm, almost unnoticeable scent still seems to radiate from the image in Enzo's memory.

Oh, so he owned him already?

Enzo stares as the recognition hits him hard. The same flushed cheeks he'd pressed his lips against last night. The same wide eyes that had tears in them while taking every inch.

The same Omega who had just walked out of this suite ten minutes ago.

Then it hits him!

That sneaky little Omega never gave him a name last night. No number. Nothing real. He hadn't been shy– he knew exactly who Enzo was and had been planning his escape from the very beginning

A dark smile spreads across Enzo's face, slow and dangerous. If that's how he wants to play.

The calm in his pheromones sharpens into focused possessiveness. "That's him," Enzo says. "The Omega I just fucked."

Marco blinks, taken aback. "What? Boss, he just--"

"Find him." Enzo's voice drops. "Every street, every shelter, every shitty motel in this city. Check cameras. Force his father's hands if you have to. I want him back in my bed by tonight."

Rico hesitates. "He's just some runaway Omega. We can grab another-"

Enzo grabs Rico by the collar, slamming him against the wall. His pheromones flare once, controlled in a way that it hasn't in a long time, but still frightening. "No. This one is mine! Bring him to me breathing. I don't care what it costs or who you hurt. Search every corner of Los Angeles. NOW!"

The men nod quickly and leave, already pulling out their phones, calling for backup.

Behind them, Enzo turns back to the window, overlooking the sprawling city below. That boy is out there, limping through the streets with his cash and his mother's necklace, thinking he escaped. But Enzo can still taste him--can still feel that tight heat clenching around him, taking his brutal pace without breaking.

He picks up his phone and dials another number. "Talk to Marco for full details. Double the bounty. Anonymous tip line. Description: Twenty, male Omega, silver necklace, injured ankle. Reward for anyone who spots him."

Enzo ends the call, his calm deepening into cold anticipation. Last night was only the beginning. Julian had warmed his bed ones.

And he would do it again--willing or dragged.

---

Some miles away , unaware, Julian pays the cab driver and slips into a crowded market, pulling his hood low. He sees cars in the distance, but he thinks they're just another part of the city's noise.

He doesn't notice a man at the end of the block taking a picture of him, with a cruel smirk.