Chapter 2 Whose Scent is it?

By nine o'clock, the rain had finally eased, leaving Bangkok washed clean. Neon lights shimmered across rain-soaked streets, turning every puddle into a pool of shifting color.

Inside their cramped downtown apartment, hip-hop pulsed through the speakers. The air smelled of expensive shampoo, vanilla body spray, and the faint burn of tequila.

Kavin stood in front of the mirror, studying his reflection. His cheeks were already warm from the pre-party shots Sky had insisted on. A crumpled black T-shirt landed in a heap on the floor as he reached for an emerald-green silk shirt. The fabric was sheer enough to tease without revealing too much. He left the top three buttons undone, exposing the smooth line of his collarbones and a hint of pale skin.

He tucked the shirt into fitted black leather pants that hugged him like a second skin before shrugging into his favorite cropped motorcycle jacket, black leather covered in silver zippers and studs. The combination made him look exactly how he liked equal parts elegant and untouchable.

The bathroom door swung open.

Sky stepped out in a cloud of warm brown sugar and fresh soap, still toweling his damp hair. His silver chainmail halter shimmered beneath the apartment lights, leaving most of his back bare, while tailored gray trousers balanced the look with effortless sophistication. An oversized white suede jacket hung loosely from his shoulders.

Sky leaned against the doorway and looked Kavin over with an appreciative grin.

"You look dangerous."

Kavin raised an eyebrow.

"Dangerous?"

"The kind of dangerous that makes people question their life choices." Sky laughed. "If an Alpha gives you trouble tonight, just hit him with your ego. That should do the job."

Kavin snorted.

"They're welcome to try."

He slung his well-worn Leica camera bag across his body. It never left his side. As he adjusted the strap, his hand brushed the star-shaped scar hidden beneath his jacket. His fingers lingered there for a heartbeat before dropping away.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go spend rich people's money."

Across the city, a private elevator climbed silently toward the highest floor of The Vault.

When the doors opened, Phana and Teerut stepped into a room bathed in violet light. Music pulsed softly beneath the quiet conversations of Bangkok's wealthiest guests.

They weren't there to celebrate.

Tonight was business.

A European distributor wanted exclusive rights to Shadow-Vale's upcoming luxury fragrance line, and Phan intended to make sure they paid handsomely for it.

His midnight-blue silk tuxedo fit like it had been tailored on his body. Satin lapels framed broad shoulders, while the open collar of his black dress shirt revealed the faint edge of an old scar near his chest. A platinum Patek Philippe rested on his wrist-a subtle reminder that he could buy almost everyone in the room without denting his fortune.

Rut followed half a step behind, dressed in a charcoal double-breasted suit over a black mock turtleneck. His broad frame and permanently stern expression discouraged conversation before it even began. While Phan watched people, Rut watched exits, entrances, hands, and faces.

Always working.

"The client's waiting in VIP One," Rut said, glancing down at his tablet. "Security swept the floor. No unauthorized guests nearby."

"Good."

Phan's thumb brushed the damp business card tucked inside his jacket.

The scent of lemongrass still lingered on the paper.

He couldn't stop thinking about it.

"Let's make this quick," he said quietly. "I don't have the patience for another night of corporate flattery."

Down on the main floor, The Vault was an entirely different world.

Music thundered through the room as purple and crimson lights swept across the packed dance floor. Sweat, perfume, expensive liquor, and excitement blended into a dizzying haze.

Kavin and Sky slipped past the VIP ropes without breaking stride. One flash of Kavin's corporate badge was enough to get them through.

By the time they claimed a high table overlooking the dance floor, they'd already knocked back four shots of tequila each.

The afternoon's road rage was quickly becoming a funny story.

"I'm telling you," Kavin shouted over the music, swaying to the beat, "if that driver calls about insurance, I'm claiming whiplash."

Sky laughed so hard he nearly spilled his drink.

"Oh, you're evil."

"I'll tell him I need a new camera too."

"You absolutely should. Rich Alphas deserve to pay more taxes."

Kavin burst out laughing.

Alcohol, adrenaline, and the crowded club were beginning to overpower the suppressant medication he'd taken earlier that evening. Without realizing it, his natural scent slowly began slipping past the medicine's weakening hold.

Fresh lemongrass.

Dark vanilla.

It drifted unnoticed through the crowd, weaving between expensive perfume and spilled cocktails.

Someone noticed.

A young Alpha detached himself from the crowd.

He wore too much cologne, too much confidence, and the smug expression of someone who had never been told no.

His eyes settled on Sky.

"You two shouldn't be drinking alone," he purred, stepping closer.

Before either of them could answer, he rested a possessive hand on Sky's bare shoulder.

His pheromones rolled out with deliberate force, heavy enough to make the air feel thick.

"Come with me," he murmured. "I'll show you how an Alpha treats an Omega."

Sky's smile disappeared instantly.

He shrugged the hand off.

"Take your hand off me."

Instead, the Alpha's grip tightened.

His fingers dug into Sky's shoulder hard enough to leave bruises.

"I said..." Sky's voice dropped dangerously. "...let go."

Kavin was already moving.

His Leica camera bag slammed into the Alpha's ribs with a satisfying thud.

The man stumbled sideways, swearing.

Kavin stepped between them, eyes bright with alcohol and irritation.

"He told you to back off."

The Alpha straightened, rubbing his side.

"You've got a mouth on you."

"So I've been told."

Kavin folded his arms.

"Did your parents forget to teach you what 'no' means, or are you naturally this stupid?"

Several people nearby turned to watch.

The Alpha's face darkened.

Humiliation quickly became anger.

With a growl, he lunged forward, claws extending as his hand shot toward Kavin's throat.

He never reached him.

Another hand closed around his wrist.

Huge.

Unmoving.

Unbreakable.

The Alpha froze.

Behind him stood Teerut.

Teerut had been keeping watch from the edge of the VIP section when the sharp sting of hostile Alpha pheromones cut through the air.

His eyes found the source immediately.

The two Omegas from the traffic incident.

Of course.

Trouble had found them again.

He crossed the room in seconds.

The young Alpha barely had time to blink before a large hand clamped around his wrist, stopping his strike cold.

Rut stood behind him like a wall carved from stone.

"That's enough."

His voice was quiet, but it carried enough weight to silence the people nearby.

"You're disturbing the peace."

The Alpha tried to yank his hand free.

It didn't move.

Rut looked him in the eye.

"Shadow-Vale doesn't tolerate this kind of behavior."

His grip tightened just enough to make the Alpha wince.

"Walk away before you lose the hand."

For a split second, the Alpha looked as though he might argue.

Then he noticed the tailored suit.

The unmistakable Shadow-Vale crest stitched inside the lapel.

More importantly, he looked into Rut's eyes.

Whatever courage he'd been pretending to have disappeared.

Without another word, he turned and vanished into the crowd.

Rut watched until he was gone before turning back toward Kavin and Sky.

He was ready to give them both a lecture about drinking responsibly, provoking strangers, and generally making his evening more difficult.

Instead...

He found absolute chaos.

Kavin was laughing so hard he could barely stay upright.

"Oh!" he slurred, pointing at Rut with complete delight. "It's the scary gorilla!"

Rut closed his eyes for half a second.

Here we go.

"Is your grumpy prince still hiding upstairs?" Kavin continued. "Or did he finally learn how to apologize?"

Before Rut could answer, Kavin leaned forward and patted his cheek as if greeting an old friend.

"You're kind of cute when you frown."

Rut froze.

Then Sky wandered over with the same carefree smile.

"He is warm," Sky announced, absentmindedly smoothing Rut's jacket. A streak of white flour transferred neatly onto the expensive charcoal fabric.

He tilted his head thoughtfully.

"Like a really grumpy space heater."

He looked at Kavin.

"Can we keep him?"

Rut stared at them in disbelief.

He'd survived gunfights.

Hostage negotiations.

Corporate wars.

He'd once broken a man's arm without spilling his coffee.

None of that had prepared him for two very drunk Omegas treating him like an oversized teddy bear.

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Both of you."

They looked up innocently.

"Stand."

Neither of them moved.

"Where are your jackets?"

Kavin frowned as if the question required deep thought.

"...Somewhere."

Then, without warning, he shrugged off his studded motorcycle jacket and let it fall to the floor.

"It's hot."

Sky copied him a second later, letting his oversized white suede jacket slide off his shoulders.

"It is hot."

Rut let out a slow breath.

"Unbelievable."

He scooped up both jackets with one hand, hooked an arm around each Omega's waist before either of them could wander off, and started steering them toward the exit.

Kavin complained the whole way.

"I wasn't finished drinking."

"You've had enough."

"I've had enough tequila."

"Exactly."

Sky giggled.

"I like him."

"I don't."

"You will."

"I won't."

By the time Rut handed both of them over to security with strict instructions to get them home safely, his patience was hanging by a thread.

Ten minutes later, Rut pushed open the door to VIP Lounge One.

He looked like he'd been through a small natural disaster.

His tie hung loose.

One side of his jacket was wrinkled.

There was still a faint dusting of flour on his shoulder.

In one hand, he carried Kavin's abandoned motorcycle jacket.

The meeting had already ended.

Contracts were signed.

The clients were gone.

Phan sat alone near the window, a glass of scotch untouched beside him.

He barely acknowledged Rut's return.

Until he saw the jacket.

His gaze locked onto it instantly.

The scent reached him before the leather did.

Lemongrass.

Dark vanilla.

The clean electric smell of rain after lightning.

Fresh.

His pulse stumbled.

Then everything inside him snapped.

He was on his feet before he realized he'd moved.

The crystal glass rattled against the table.

"Where did you get that?"

His voice came out low and rough, more growl than words.

Rut had expected questions.

Not this.

"The photographer from earlier," he answered carefully. "Kavin."

Phan didn't look away from the jacket.

"He got into a fight with a young Alpha downstairs. Security escorted him home."

Silence.

Then…

"You let him leave?"

Rut finally looked up.

Phan's eyes had turned a brilliant amber.

Raw Alpha dominance flooded the room, pressing against every wall.

"He was here," Phan said, each word sharper than the last.

"You let him walk away?"

Rut stood his ground despite the pressure crushing against him.

"He's a civilian."

"So?"

"He was drunk."

"I don't care."

"Protocol exists for a reason."

Phan crossed the room in two strides and snatched the jacket from Rut's hand.

"I don't give a damn about protocol!"

His voice echoed through the lounge.

He buried his face in the leather, drawing in one long breath after another.

The scent was still there.

Strong enough to drive every instinct inside him wild.

He had been minutes away.

Minutes.

Rut had known Phan for nearly twenty years.

He'd watched him negotiate billion-baht mergers without blinking.

He'd watched him sentence traitors to death with the same expression he'd use ordering dinner.

Nothing rattled him.

Nothing.

Until now.

The composed chairman of Akarachin Group was gone.

Standing before him was something far older.

Far more dangerous.

An Alpha who had just realized he'd found his mate...

...and lost him again.

A knock interrupted the silence.

The lounge door opened.

A mid-ranking enforcer stepped inside, visibly nervous.

"Sovereign Alpha."

He bowed quickly.

"The shipping audit is complete."

Phan didn't answer.

The man swallowed.

"We found the mole in District Three."

Still nothing.

"He's been selling synthetic suppressants to Venice's pack."

Only then did Phan lower the jacket.

When he looked at the messenger, there wasn't a trace of warmth in his face.

"Bring him to the basement."

His voice was almost gentle.

Which somehow made it worse.

"No mercy tonight."

The enforcer stiffened.

"Yes, Sovereign Alpha."

Phan's gaze shifted to Rut.

"Inform the council."

Rut already knew what was coming.

"The director's life is forfeit."

"Understood."

The messenger disappeared almost before the words had finished echoing.

Silence settled over the room again.

Phan walked to the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking Bangkok.

Rain still clung to the glass, scattering the city's lights into blurred streaks of gold and violet.

His fingers tightened around Kavin's jacket until the leather creaked beneath his grip.

His reflection stared back at him.

For the first time in years...

...he looked shaken.

"He's mine," he murmured.

The words were barely louder than a whisper.

"But he's here."

His grip tightened again.

"And I'll find him."

A faint smile touched his lips.

"He won't escape me."