Chapter Text
Kinn Theerapanyakul had been born into expectation. The eldest son of the most powerful mafia family in Thailand, his future had been charted long before his first breath. The family thought he would present as an Alpha—unyielding, dominant, the kind of heir who could inherit an empire without question. But when the truth came at seventeen, it was like a knife through the pride of his bloodline. Kinn was an omega.
To the outside world, nothing changed. He trained, commanded, and moved through the ranks with the same ruthless authority as any Alpha heir. But behind it all, he learned how to live in constant restraint—suppressants to keep his biology from betraying him, masks of ice to hide the pulse of vulnerability beneath his skin. For an omega heir, weakness was death.
That night, Kinn sat across the polished table from Don and the Italians, every word sharp, every glance calculated. His posture radiated control, but beneath his crisp suit and cold eyes, he could feel the stirring ache low in his stomach. His heat was coming. He had taken his suppressants before the meeting; certain they would hold. Still, the pressure built like a storm waiting to break. When the deal collapsed into violence, it was almost a relief. Guns flashed, shouts tore the air, and Kinn moved with practiced precision. But on the street outside, as bullets sparked against concrete, Big—who had guarded him since his youth—took a hit to the shoulder. “Run, Khun Kinn!” Big shouted, shoving him toward the alley.
He didn't hesitate. He bolted, adrenaline masking the growing ache in his lower abdomen. The scent of his impending heat was becoming more difficult to ignore. The scent was becoming more prominent, almost like a beacon. He burst through a side exit, the humid Bangkok air thick with the smell of diesel and desperation. As he ran, his lungs burned, his body heavy with the haze of heat that suppressants could no longer cage. He felt weaker with each step, his balance faltering as the predators behind him closed in. He stumbled against the wall, vision blurring. The world tilted—until a crash of sound, a voice, a presence cut through the fog.
Behind Hum Bar, Porsche was lighting a cigarette. The Alpha had just left the bar, reeking faintly of sweat and sex, his Beta companion still somewhere inside. He had watched as a sleek car screeched to a halt, men spilling out with guns raised. Then he saw him. The omega, struggling, and listless against a wall. When he saw him cornered, instincts lit like fire in his blood. "Need a hand?" Porsche asked, flicking his cigarette to the ground. Kinn whirled around, eyes wide with panic and shouted, "Stay out of this!" Porsche grinned, a flash of teeth in the dim light, "Too late." He launched himself into the fray, fists and fury cutting down the men who pursued the stranger in the fine suit.
When the attackers scattered, Porsche turned to help him—and froze. The scent hit him first. Not the sharp tang of blood or smoke, but something intoxicating. Lavender and sandalwood clung to the Omega in front of him. Porsche’s Alpha instincts surged, muscles tightening, throat dry. “Shit,” Porsche muttered, staring at the man’s pale face, the sheen of sweat on his skin, “You’re—”
“Don’t.” Kinn’s voice was a rasp, his pride laced through every broken syllable, “Just… help me get out of here.” Porsche didn’t hesitate. He pulled Kinn through the bar and out front to his motorcycle. "Get on," Porsche barked, kicking a discarded helmet towards Kinn, "We need to move." Kinn clambered onto the back of the motorcycle, and his trembling hands gripped around Porsche’s waist. The moment Kinn pressed against him, the faintest hitch of breath left Porsche’s throat. Kinn’s pheromones, were slipping through the cracks of his suppressants.
As they weaved through the chaotic streets, the wind carried a new scent, intoxicating and dangerous: whiskey and orange peels, the unmistakable pheromones of an alpha. Kinn buried his face against Porsche’s back, inhaling the intoxicating smell. His body jolted. A wave of heat washed over him, so intense it stole his breath. The suppressants had failed. "Stop," he gasped, his voice a strangled whisper, "I…I can't…" Porsche pulled over abruptly. "What's wrong?"
Kinn couldn't answer. His vision blurred, his muscles spasmed. He was drowning in his own hormones, the scent of Porsche amplifying the primal urge to mate. "Heat," he moaned, the word thick with desperation. "I'm in heat." Porsche cursed under his breath. He knew what that meant. He gripped the handlebars, knuckles white. "Hold on."
As the omega’s scent increased and soaked into Porsche’s skin, something inside the Alpha was snapping. An unexpected rut loomed, heavy and demanding, every nerve alight. He drove them to a seedy motel on the outskirts of the city. The room was stifling, the air thick with the scent of stale cigarettes and cheap disinfectant. Kinn was shaking. His suit clung to him, his body slick with sweat.
The suppressants had given up their fight.