Chapter 3: Hunted

Chapter 3: Hunted

Jhonatan stepped back, his heart pounding. "What debt? My father never told me about—"

"Of course he didn't," Glenmorrin cut in, standing, walking away toward the window. "A man like your father wouldn't admit to his own son that he mortgaged his family's life to cover up his failing business."

"You're lying," Jhonatan said, his voice trembling.

"I don't need to lie," Glenmorrin answered, turning, his gaze calm but cold. "I have the contract. Signed by your father himself, three months ago."

"What contract?" Jhonatan asked, stepping closer despite his still-trembling body.

"A contract stating," Glenmorrin answered, "that if he failed to pay within the agreed time, I have the right to take whatever I deem equivalent from his family."

"And you chose me?" Jhonatan's voice was barely audible.

"I didn't choose you," Glenmorrin said. "Fate chose you, tonight, when you collapsed right in front of my door."

Jhonatan shook his head, stepping back again. "I'm not merchandise to be used as debt payment."

"True," Glenmorrin answered, stepping closer again, slower this time, as if deliberately keeping a safe distance. "You're not merchandise. But you're leverage. And that's far more valuable to me."

"So what's your plan?" Jhonatan asked, his voice rising, a mix of fear and anger. "Hold me hostage until my father pays?"

"Your father will never pay," Glenmorrin answered flatly. "He already proved that tonight, when he chose to throw his own Omega out onto the street instead of facing me directly."

The words hit Jhonatan harder than he expected. He looked down, trying to hold back the tears welling up.

"Then why didn't you just let me die on the street earlier?" Jhonatan asked quietly. "If my father already doesn't care, why did you bother saving me?"

Glenmorrin fell silent for a moment, as if the question caught him off guard.

"Because," Glenmorrin answered finally, his voice softer than before, "dead people are no use to me. But living people, who owe me a debt—" he stopped right in front of Jhonatan, "—that's far more valuable."

"So I owe you now?" Jhonatan asked, looking up at him.

"You've owed me since I pulled you off that pavement," Glenmorrin answered. "The question now, Jhonatan—" he said the name slowly, as if testing how it felt on his tongue, "—is how are you going to pay it back?"

Before Jhonatan could answer, the phone on Glenmorrin's table vibrated loudly, its screen lighting up bright in the dim room.

Glenmorrin glanced at the screen, and something in his expression shifted—his jaw tightened, his eyes narrowed.

"Is something wrong?" Jhonatan asked, noticing the change.

Glenmorrin didn't answer right away. He picked up the call, pressing the phone to his ear.

"Talk," he said shortly.

Jhonatan couldn't hear the voice on the other end, but he could see Glenmorrin's body tense, his fist clenching at his side.

"When are they arriving?" Glenmorrin asked, his voice dropping into a low growl.

A pause.

"Repeat that," Glenmorrin said, "who are they looking for?"

Glenmorrin's eyes moved slowly toward Jhonatan, and something in his gaze made Jhonatan's stomach twist with dread.

"Understood," Glenmorrin said finally, ending the call.

"Who was that?" Jhonatan asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Glenmorrin looked at him for a long moment before answering.

"Your family just sent people," Glenmorrin said quietly, "to make sure you're never found alive."