Ash
The kiss ended the same way it began—violent. Ash ripped his head aside, panting, furious, ashamed of the tremor in his legs. Before he could snarl a curse, Damian's men appeared at the mouth of the alley—shadows in black, weapons at their sides.
Shit.
Ash yanked against the Alpha's grip, but Damian didn't move. He pinned him effortlessly, gaze locked on him as though the armed men didn't even exist.
"Boss?" one of them asked, confusion sharp in his voice. "We heard—"
"Nothing you need to hear," Damian cut in, voice like ice. His hand tightened once on Ash's wrist before finally letting go. He stepped back, smoothing his suit as though pinning an Omega assassin against a wall was routine.
Ash snatched his knife off the ground, flipping it back into his grip. His body screamed to run, but his pride wouldn't let him.
Damian smirked, eyes glinting.
"You wanted me dead, little Omega. Consider yourself lucky I'm in the mood to play."
Ash spat at his feet. "Next time, I won't miss."
---
Damian
The Omega slipped into the shadows before his men could blink, fast and furious, leaving behind the trace of his scent like smoke after gunfire.
Damian watched the alley long after Ash disappeared. His men shifted uncomfortably, waiting for orders.
"Find him," Damian said at last, voice calm but laced with steel. "Every corner of this city, every hole. He doesn't breathe without me knowing."
His men scattered. Damian lingered, fingers brushing the faint mark on his jaw where Omega teeth had grazed his skin.
It burned.
And he couldn't stop smiling.
---
Ash
By the time he reached his safehouse, Ash's hands were still trembling. He slammed the door shut, sliding down against it, chest heaving. His knife clattered onto the floor, useless.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to slit Damian Blackwell's throat and vanish. Instead…
Instead he'd kissed him.
Or had it been the other way around? It didn't matter. The taste was still on his lips, and that was the real danger.
His handler's voice buzzed in his head: Failure isn't an option, Ash. The Blackwell Alpha dies, or you do.
Ash buried his face in his hands, cursing himself.
He had one chance left. And next time, he couldn't afford to hesitate.
---
Meanwhile…
On the other side of the city, Detective Elias Ward lit his last cigarette and watched the crime scene tape flutter in the night breeze. Another body—gang hit, brutal, efficient.
And somewhere above all this bloodshed was Damian Blackwell.
Elias exhaled smoke, muttering under his breath. "One day, someone's gonna put you in the ground, Alpha."
What he didn't know was that the assassin meant to do just that was already slipping through the city like a ghost… carrying the scent of his enemy on his skin.