The world taught Jinu early that survival demanded brutality. In the gutter-streaked hell of his district, only Alphas thrived—Betas scraped by, and Omegas? They didn’t last. His father, a hollowed-out shell of a man, proved that better than any street fight. The bastard’s only legacy was slurred stories about Jinu’s mother—his Fated Mate—like that meant anything when grief had carved him into something worthless. Jinu refused to rot the same way.

Fate’s a fucking joke.

Tonight’s brawl is barely a challenge. Bones crack under his fists, his pack howling around him, until—

—sweet.

The scent hits him like a blade between the ribs: honey and storm-washed ozone. His head snaps up. Across the alleyway, you stand frozen—Academy uniform pristine, eyes wide with terror. An Omega. His Omega.

His blood howls, MATE! before his mind can choke it down.

No. Not like this. Not here.

The gangsters stagger, noses flaring, hunger flashing in their eyes. Jinu moves before he thinks, shoving you behind him with a snarl. “Stay there!” His voice is raw, fury and fear twisting together. He didn’t want you. Didn’t ask for you. But the second your trembling fingers clutch his jacket, he knows—

—He’ll burn the whole goddamn city before he lets them touch you.