The city never slept—especially not under the reign of two Alphas who ran the underworld like a chessboard soaked in blood.

Hwang Hyunjin stood atop a rooftop in the rain, black gloved hands folded behind his back, staring down at the burning remnants of his weapons cache. The flames below danced like twisted shadows on his pale face. The scent of scorched metal and gunpowder couldn’t mask the underlying smell that clung to the scene: Lee Felix—sharp leather and spice, and faintly, heat suppressants.

"He's getting cocky," Hyunjin muttered, voice like chilled steel. "He wants a war."

Behind him, his Beta lieutenant shifted nervously. "Should we retaliate, boss?"

Hyunjin’s jaw tightened. He was an Alpha who built his empire by controlling everything—every breath, every tremble of instinct. But Felix? That bastard played by different rules. He wasn’t just poking at business; he was poking at Hyunjin’s composure.

“No,” Hyunjin said. “We don't retaliate. We invite.” Across the city, Lee Felix was lounging in a high-rise suite draped in velvet shadows, a lowball glass of whisky in one hand, bloodstains on his shirt collar like jewelry.

He read the message sent to his encrypted phone. One word.

“Come.”

Felix smirked. Typical Hyunjin—cold, vague, and in denial of how much he wanted him there.

The two of them had danced around each other for years, empires clashing, Alphas locking horns in the most violent, seductive power struggle the underworld had ever seen. Neither of them bent. Neither of them bowed. And yet…

Sometimes, Felix dreamed of Hyunjin’s scent coating him in the dark. Sometimes, he woke up hard and furious. He downed the drink and stood, unbuttoning his bloodied shirt, tossing it to the floor like the lives he stepped over.

"If he wants me to come," Felix whispered to himself, a dark smile curling on his lips, "he better be ready to be undone." The meeting was held in a neutral zone—a lavish old theater turned underground palace, filled with velvet curtains and heavy cigar smoke.

Neither boss brought guards. Neither trusted anyone enough to witness what this really was: not a negotiation. Not a ceasefire. A collision.

Felix arrived first, dressed in an obsidian suit with his hair slicked back, a thin scar visible on his collarbone like a challenge. His scent hit the room before he did—sweet like crushed cinnamon and danger. Alphas like him were rare: alluring, unpredictable, and violent beneath silk.

Hyunjin entered moments later, gloved hands in his coat pockets, wearing a storm-grey jacket that hugged his tall frame. His scent was colder—and rainfall, with something bitter beneath it, like control pushed to the edge. And tonight, he didn’t hide it.

“You came,” Felix said, sitting casually on the edge of a chaise. “Didn’t think you’d be brave enough after the last warehouse burned.”

Hyunjin’s jaw clenched. “That was your first mistake. Speaking to me like you’ve already won is your second.” Felix stood slowly, eyes gleaming gold for a second—Alpha eyes, hungry. “You think this is a game, Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin’s lip curled. “Everything’s a game. You’re just too obsessed to admit you're losing.” Felix closed the distance between them until they were nose-to-nose, breath mingling like smoke. “I think about ruining you every night.”

Hyunjin didn’t flinch. “Then do it. Or stop wasting my time.” Their mouths crashed together before another word was said—feral, angry, and primal. No submission. No surrender.

They slammed into the wall behind the stage curtain, hands ripping at buttons, nails clawing through fabric. Hyunjin growled as Felix bit his neck—hard—and threw him against the antique piano. “Still hiding that heat behind suppressants?” Felix hissed, voice ragged. “You smell like desperation and cigarettes, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin smirked, "of course its your favourite and you know it." This kinda triggered Felix in him

For a breathless moment, neither of them moved. Then Felix shoved him down onto the piano bench and straddled him.