The door slammed behind them, the echo rattling through the empty corridor.
Ayan hadn't planned on following, but his feet moved anyway. The taste of Kairo's warning still lingered, bitter and unfinished.
"Kairo," he called, his tone sharp, cutting through the air.
Kairo stopped mid-step, shoulders tense. Slowly, he turned, the dim light catching on the cold fury in his eyes. "You just don't know when to quit, do you?"
Ayan stepped closer, refusing to shrink. "Not when you're the one running."
The words landed like a strike. For a moment, Kairo didn't move — then he closed the distance in two strides, fisting Ayan's collar and slamming him back against the wall.
The impact stole Ayan's breath, but his smirk stayed intact, infuriatingly calm. "There you are."
Kairo's grip tightened, his forehead nearly brushing Ayan's. His voice was a growl. "You're playing with fire."
"And you're the one burning," Ayan whispered back, his omega scent slipping sharp and deliberate into the charged air.
It hit Kairo like a chain snapping. His jaw clenched, every nerve on edge, fighting instincts that screamed to claim, to crush, to give in.
The corridor vibrated with their silence, heavier than words.
And then—Kairo dropped his hold, stepping back as if scorched. His eyes were wild, conflicted, dangerous.
"This isn't over," he spat, before walking away, fast, like escape.
Ayan leaned against the wall, chest rising in uneven breaths. Victory and ache mixed on his face.
"No," he murmured to the empty hall. "It's just starting."
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