I think he’s from the agency.

Jay walked down the side corridor of the hotel, suitcase rolling softly behind him. The morning sun spilled through the glass doors, glinting off the marble floors. At the counter, a young man looked up and straightened.

“Mr. Jay?” he called politely.

Jay glanced over. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“There’s a call for you,” the man said, holding out the receiver.

Jay took it and lifted it to his ear.

“Jay! Where is your phone?” Chiara’s voice snapped through the line, brisk and urgent.

“In my room,” Jay replied, rubbing his temple.

“Get here now! We have another photo shoot scheduled — and lunch, and the magazines. Everything is waiting. Move it!”

Jay groaned softly. “Okay, okay, I’m coming.” He hung up and started walking faster, trying to shake off the haze of fatigue.

As he passed through the lobby, he didn’t notice a figure brushing past him. Tall, broad, dressed impeccably in black. Eyes that seemed to miss nothing.

Across the hall, one of Rafe’s guards approached a man finishing breakfast. “Boss, I think he’s from the agency,” the guard said quietly.

Rafe glanced up, eyes sharp, a small smile playing on his lips. The man’s presence was enough to make the room quiet down without a word.

Meanwhile, outside the hotel, a sleek black car was waiting. Marco leaned out the window, waving. “Jay! Been trying to call you. Where have you been?”

“My phone was in the room,” Jay called back, slipping into the car.

“Now, come in. We’ve got files to go over,” Marco said, handing him a thick envelope. Jay flipped it open.

He blinked. “Wow… he really changed his appearance. And nobody knows…”

“Exactly,” Marco replied, glancing at the road ahead. “He’s dangerous. Very dangerous.”

Jay leaned back in the leather seat. “Dangerous, my foot. I could crush him.” He smirked, but inside, a tiny knot of tension had formed.

The car pulled up to a wide-open outdoor set. Jay’s jaw dropped slightly. “We’re shooting here?”

Marco nodded. “Yep. Straightforward, open space. You’ll see it’s going to be quick but effective.”

Chiara emerged from a side building, waving. “Jay! Come on, get ready!”

Jay jogged over, following her into the large setup truck where the dressing rooms awaited. Makeup artists buzzed around, brushes and palettes in hand. Stylists adjusted his suit and hair, fussing over every detail.

By the time Jay stepped out onto the set, the sun glinted off his sharp features, the suit tailored perfectly to his lean frame. He looked different, striking — confident, untouchable.

Chiara watched from the sidelines, a satisfied smile on her face. “He’s perfect,” she whispered.

The photographers clicked rapidly, the flashes reflecting off Jay’s dark eyes. Marco handed him a water bottle between shots. “You’re doing great,” he said.

“I’m done after this,” Jay muttered, leaning back in a chair for a moment.

“You have to be more visible. Popularity is part of the mission,” Marco reminded him gently.

Jay made a face but didn’t argue. Soon, Chiara returned, a stack of freshly edited magazine mockups in hand. “Look at this. Our team works faster than lightning.”

Jay raised his eyebrows. “Wow… this actually looks good.”

Chiara winked. “See? I told you. You’re a natural.”

Marco leaned closer. “Next photo set… with the man.”

Jay froze. “The man?”

Chiara nodded. “Yes.”

His stomach dropped. “K?”

Both Chiara and Marco looked at him, confused. “You know him?” Chiara asked.

Jay’s mind went back two years — that last mission, the danger, the intensity, the narrow escapes. His heart raced at the memory. “Yeah… I know him.”

A brief flashback ran through his mind: K, cold and sharp, powerful and dangerous, always two steps ahead. Jay clenched his fists, swallowing hard.

“I’m… I’m cooked,” he muttered, a small, almost comical crying expression crossing his face.

Marco patted him lightly on the shoulder. “Relax. You’ve handled worse. Just… stay focused.”

Jay nodded, straightening his suit. Focus. This is just another mission. Just another job.

As they prepared for the next shot, Jay took a deep breath, trying to push the memories aside. He knew the next encounter would test him — mentally, physically, and emotionally. And yet… there was a spark of excitement he couldn’t deny.

—

Jay closed the door to his hotel room behind him with a quiet click, the soft hum of the air conditioning filling the space. The weight of the day pressed down on his shoulders, and the suitcase he had dragged along finally hit the floor. He knelt to open it.

Inside, neatly packed, were the essentials for his undercover mission: a handgun, a few hidden tools, documents, and a small bottle marked “Omega Suppressant”. Jay picked up the bottle, staring at it for a moment. God, I hate having to rely on this…

He placed it carefully on the nightstand beside the bed, along with the other items. Then, methodically, he pulled the suppressant out, checking the seal before swallowing it. The bitter taste hit his tongue, and he grimaced.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Jay ran a hand through his hair. His heart was racing—not from the mission itself, but from memories he couldn’t shake. My heartbeat… it’s still too fast. Calm down. He pushed the thought away and stood, moving toward the bathroom.

Turning the shower on, the warm water hit his shoulders, and he let out a long, shaky breath. His clothes were still on; he hadn’t even removed them yet. Slowly, he peeled away the suit, shirt sticking slightly from the day’s heat, and stepped under the spray.

The water ran over him, but his mind was elsewhere. Memories of the past flitted through his thoughts like shadows.

He saw himself as a child, lying in a stark hospital room, tiny and fragile. The doctor’s voice echoed in his memory:

“The boy… he is an Omega, but dominant in his nature.”

Jay’s small hands had gripped the sides of the chair nervously, his innocent eyes wide as the faceless doctor—or perhaps just distant, indifferent—looked at him with a clinical detachment. “Omega… you understand what that means?” the man asked, voice flat, almost too heavy for a child to comprehend.

Young Jay had nodded slowly, a mixture of fear and curiosity in his gaze. “I… I think so,” he whispered.

Now, under the warm shower, the memory made him flinch. Still feels like yesterday… he thought, rubbing his face with his hands. The lingering tension in his chest, the rapid heartbeat, the knowledge that he was born to be different… all of it pressed down on him, even years later.

He closed his eyes, trying to force the present to take over. Focus on Italy. Focus on the mission. Just another assignment. Don’t think about him.

A soft knock at the door startled him.

“Jay? Everything okay in there?” Chiara’s voice called gently from outside.

Jay shook his head as he turned off the water, water dripping from his hair. “Yeah… just… processing,” he said, voice tight.

“You’ve got to get ready for the shoot. Lunch is waiting, and the photographers will be there soon,” she reminded him.

“Yeah, I know,” Jay muttered, pulling a towel around his waist. “Give me five minutes.”

He dried off quickly, taking a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of memories and nerves. Every mission carried weight, but this one… this one felt heavier. I can do this. I have to.

Jay packed the rest of his gear neatly back into the bag, his fingers brushing over the gun, the documents, and the suppressant bottle. All in place. No mistakes.

He paused for a moment, staring at the bed, at the quiet room, letting the warmth of the morning sun settle over him. Then, with a last deep breath, he stepped out, ready to face the day, ready to face Rafe, and whatever else awaited him in Italy.