Ash
Gunfire shattered the night.
Ash dropped flat against the pavement as bullets chewed into the brick wall above him. The sting of concrete dust filled his lungs. He wasn't supposed to be here-he'd come for food, a quick raid on a half-abandoned market stall. But the Vargas men had swarmed the block like wolves, and now the whole street was a warzone.
"Omega-there!"
Ash's blood turned cold. Their scenters had caught him. He could already hear boots pounding closer.
Instinct screamed run. But another voice inside him hissed darker: Fight.
Ash's knife was in his hand before he realized he'd moved.
---
Damian
The Blackwell convoy hit the street like thunder. Armored cars blocked both ends of the road, engines roaring. Damian stepped out first, a storm in human form, coat snapping in the wind.
"Burn them out," he ordered, voice cutting through the chaos.
His men moved with lethal precision, guns lighting up the Vargas ranks in a chorus of muzzle flash. Screams followed.
Damian barely heard them. His eyes had already found what he wanted.
A hooded figure, crouched low in the smoke, blade gleaming under the streetlights.
Ash.
Relief and fury collided in his chest. Mine.
---
Elias
Elias had been tailing Vargas for weeks. He hadn't expected to land in the middle of a bloodbath. Sirens wailed in the distance, but he knew backup would be late-too late.
Pinned behind an overturned trash bin, he scanned the street. Blackwell's men. Vargas's men. Civilians screaming as they tried to flee. And in the middle of it-
The Omega.
Elias's heart kicked. The boy was cornered, blade flashing desperately against two Vargas enforcers twice his size. He wouldn't last thirty seconds.
"Fuck," Elias muttered, drawing his sidearm.
---
The Collision
It happened fast.
One of the Vargas thugs grabbed Ash by the arm, twisting hard enough to snap bone. Ash cried out, knife clattering to the ground-just as a gunshot rang out.
The thug dropped, blood blooming from his chest.
Elias lowered his smoking gun, breath sharp, eyes locked on the boy he'd just saved.
But before Ash could move, a hand seized him from behind, dragging him upright in a grip that brooked no argument.
Damian.
Ash stiffened, instincts shuddering at the Alpha's scent, that overwhelming presence wrapping around him like chains. Damian's gaze flicked past him to Elias, and in that instant the detective felt it-the lethal promise in those cold, burning eyes.
"You're standing in my way," Damian said, voice soft, almost calm.
But it wasn't a warning. It was a death sentence.
---
---
Ash
His knife was gone. His arm throbbed where Vargas had twisted it, but the pain was nothing compared to the grip on his body now.
Damian's grip.
Ash tried to wrench free, every nerve screaming fight, fight, fight-but his body betrayed him. His knees trembled, his chest tightened, and the heat rolling off the Alpha's skin wrapped around him like smoke. The scent was overwhelming: iron, danger, want.
"Let me go," Ash snarled, low and ragged.
Damian bent close enough that his breath brushed Ash's ear. "You should know better than to say things you don't mean."
Ash's heart slammed against his ribs. He hated him. Hated the control, the certainty, the way Damian looked at him like prey and prize all at once. But somewhere deep in his gut, something twisted tighter. Something primal. Something that whispered: You're his.
"No," Ash hissed, voice shaking. "I don't belong to anyone."
Damian's fingers flexed against his arm, possessive, unyielding. "Lie to yourself all you want. But your body..." his lips ghosted dangerously close to Ash's jaw, "...already knows the truth."
Ash's breath stuttered, rage and panic tangled in one unbearable knot.
And then-
"Step away from him!"
Elias's voice cut through the chaos like a blade.
Ash's eyes flew wide, snapping toward the detective standing steady in the wreckage, gun raised, smoke still curling from the barrel.
For a heartbeat, the entire street froze. Vargas men scattered, Blackwell's enforcers tightened their circle, and in the center of it all stood the three of them-Alpha, Omega, and Beta-locked in a triangle that couldn't hold forever.
Damian turned, slow and deliberate, his hand never leaving Ash's arm. His eyes burned into Elias, a dangerous light glinting in the storm.
"You've made a mistake, detective," he said softly. "A mistake you won't walk away from."
The Standoff Breaks
The street held its breath.
Then Damian moved.
His hand shot out, shoving Ash behind him with terrifying ease, and the Alpha strode forward, cutting through the haze of smoke and sirens. Elias didn't flinch, gun steady, eyes locked on his target.
"Another step and I drop you," Elias warned.
Damian's lips curved in something that wasn't quite a smile. "Try it."
The detective's finger tightened on the trigger—too late. Damian was already in motion.
He closed the distance in a blur, swatting the gun aside as his fist slammed into Elias's ribs. The crack of bone echoed over the street. Elias gasped but twisted with the blow, driving his elbow up under Damian's jaw. The Alpha staggered back half a step, eyes flashing fire.
"Not bad," Damian growled, spitting blood. "But not good enough."
Elias dropped his empty gun—no time to reload. His knife flashed free instead, a silver streak in the dim light.
Ash pressed against the wall, breath ragged, instincts tearing him apart. Run. Stay. Protect. Submit. He couldn't think. Couldn't move. Every muscle locked as he watched two predators collide.
Damian's strikes were brutal, each blow meant to crush. Elias was sharper, faster, fighting with grit and precision—but the Alpha didn't tire. Every hit Elias landed seemed to fuel Damian more, his pheromones flooding the street, thick and choking.
Ash coughed, chest tightening. His body reacted against his will, heat prickling under his skin. He bit his lip hard enough to taste blood.
"Stop it!" he shouted, voice breaking.
Neither man heard.
Damian slammed Elias against the hood of a burning car, metal shrieking under the impact. His hand wrapped around the detective's throat, squeezing just enough to cut air, just enough to show he could end him right there.
"You should have walked away," Damian snarled.
Elias's knife found flesh. He slashed Damian's side open, blood spilling hot between them.
For the first time, Damian's grip faltered.
Ash's heart stopped.
The street wasn't silent anymore. Vargas men were regrouping, shouting, rushing back into the fray. The fragile triangle shattered in a storm of violence.
And Ash—torn between running, saving Elias, or being dragged back under Damian's shadow—knew one thing for certain.
This night was only the beginning