Friend?
The silence in the penthouse didn't feel like peace anymore; it felt like the goddamn pressurized air inside a bomb casing right before the pin drops.
Hua Yong was the first to move. He didn't just stand up; he unfolded himself from the floor like a predator that had finally finished licking its wounds and was ready to start the goddamn hunt. His violet eyes were glowing with a low, radioactive hum, the kind of light that usually preceded a fucking massacre.
"The tablet," Hua Yong rasped, his voice a jagged edge of pure, cold steel.
"If the Old Associates sent this as a warning, they’re even stupider than I thought. They didn’t just hand us a death sentence; they handed us the goddamn blueprints to their own extinction."
Wenlang shoved himself off the couch, his muscles screaming in protest. His S-Tier power was still buzzing under his skin, a frantic, electric current that wanted to lash out and tear the fucking walls down.
He felt Hua Yong’s fury like it was his own—a dark, oily tide that merged with his own golden rage. The "closed circuit" wasn't just a scientific theory; it was a goddamn living, breathing nightmare.
"They want a 'perfected unit'?" Wenlang spat, the word tasting like copper and bile in his mouth. "Let’s give them exactly what they fucking asked for. But we aren't doing this their way. No more shitty lab rats, no more running. If we’re a closed circuit, then it’s time to overload the goddamn system."
They didn’t go to the bedroom to sleep. They didn’t go to the kitchen to eat. They moved to Hua Yong’s private study—a room reinforced with enough goddamn lead and vibration-dampening tech to survive a nuclear strike.
Hua Yong slammed the tablet onto the massive obsidian desk. He swiped through the Project Omega files with a brutal, flickering speed. "Look at the logistics, Wenlang. They aren't just some shadow cabal. They’re embedded in the goddamn infrastructure. Banks, private security, pharmaceutical boards. To kill them, we don't just need bullets. We need to rip the fucking heart out of their economy."
"I don't give a shit about their bank accounts," Wenlang growled, pacing the length of the room like a caged wolf. The gold in his eyes was blinding now, casting long, jagged shadows against the walls. "I want to feel their goddamn bones snap. I want them to realize that the 'monster' they created is the one that's going to eat them alive."
Hua Yong looked up, and for a second, the Enigma and the Alpha shared a look of such raw, sweary understanding that the air in the room literally sparked.
"We’ll do both," Hua Yong promised, his voice dropping to a low, vibrating growl. "We use my capital to blind them, and then we use your power to bury them. But we need a catalyst. Something big enough to pull them out of their shitty holes all at once."
Wenlang stopped pacing. He turned to look at the digital map of the city glowing on the wall. "The Gala. The goddamn Founders' Gala is on Tuesday. Every single one of those 'Old Associates' fossils will be there, tucked away in the VIP suites, patting themselves on the back for playing god with our lives."
Hua Yong’s grip tightened on the edge of the desk, the obsidian cracking under his goddamn fingers. "It’s a suicide mission. The security is S-Tier. They’ll have suppressors, pheromone blockers, the whole shitty works."
Wenlang let out a sharp, jagged laugh that sounded more like a bark. He walked over to Hua Yong, stepping into the Enigma’s personal space until their chests were almost touching. The bond flared, a hot, suffocating wave of power that made the lights in the study flicker and die.
"Let them bring the suppressors," Wenlang whispered, his voice vibrating with a terrifying, newfound confidence. "They designed me to be your dog, Hua Yong. They forgot that if you give a dog a goddamn Enigma’s teeth, it doesn't just bark. It tears throats out. We go to that Gala. We show them the 'Evolution.' And then we turn the ballroom into a goddamn morgue."
Hua Yong didn't pull away. He reached out, his hand wrapping around the back of Wenlang's neck, his thumb pressing into the jagged scar where the mark sat. It wasn't a gesture of dominance; it was a goddamn pact.
"Tuesday," Hua Yong rumbled, his violet eyes locking onto Wenlang’s gold ones. "We’re going to burn the world down, you sweary prick. Make sure you’re ready to dance.
Wenlang didn't say anything he nodded, not pulling away from Hua Yong's grip.
Suddenly the air between them became fucking sharp, heavy with the things they weren't saying. For some weird reson, right now wenlang wasn't thinking about the hole shitshow that his life was. No he was thinking now, that he wanted to kiss the Enigma in front of him.
Not because of the bond. Not because of his shitty biology. No he really wanted to.
Yeah, sure he didn't know what this feeling was yet. But he knew he wanted it so out of nowhere he oppend his mouth.
"H-Hua Yong?"
Hua Yong shifted, his hand still tight on the back of Wenlang's neck. He didn't pull away. He didn't move an inch. He just stared down at him, his expression a mask of raw, sweary confusion.
"Yeah?" Hua Yong rumbled. It wasn't a question; it was a low, vibrating sound that Wenlang felt in his goddamn marrow.
Wenlang licked his dry lips, his heart doing a shitty frantic dance against his ribs. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a goddamn skyscraper, looking down at the pavement and deciding to jump anyway.
"I really... I really want to kiss you right now," Wenlang blurted out. The words felt like jagged glass in his throat, honest and terrifyingly loud. "And it’s not the bond, you prick. It’s not the shitty mark. I just... I fucking want to."
Hua Yong froze. The Chairman, the Enigma, the man who had a goddamn plan for every disaster, looked like he’d just been hit square in the chest with a fucking sledgehammer. His grip on Wenlang’s neck didn't loosen, but his fingers started to tremble—just a tiny, flicker of vulnerability that made Wenlang’s lungs seize up.
"Then do it," Hua Yong whispered, his voice sounding like gravel being fucking crushed. "Stop talking about it and just fucking do it, Wenlang."
Wenlang didn't wait. He closed the last few inches of space, his hands coming up to grab the front of Hua Yong’s expensive, sweary T-shirt. It wasn't a smooth, cinematic move. It was awkward and desperate, their teeth clashing for a second as Wenlang shoved his mouth against the Enigma's.
The first contact was a goddamn shock to the system. It wasn't soft; it was tentative and shaky, tasting like the bitter, black coffee they’d been drowning in all afternoon. Wenlang felt Hua Yong’s breath hitch, a jagged, strangled sound that died in the back of his throat.
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. They just stayed there, lips pressed together in a silent, sweary truce, the closed circuit of their power humming like a goddamn high-voltage wire between them. It was real. It was fucking terrifying. And for the first time in his life, Wenlang didn't feel like a king or a dog.
He just felt like a man who wasn't alone in the dark anymore.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The tentative press of lips didn’t stay quiet for more than a goddamn second.
It was like a spark hitting a room full of gasoline. The "closed circuit" between them didn’t just hum; it fucking roared. Hua Yong’s hands, usually so calculated and steady, suddenly went frantic, sliding from Wenlang’s neck to grip his waist with a strength that would have bruised a lesser man.
Wenlang let out a choked, sweary moan into Hua Yong’s mouth, his fingers digging into the Enigma’s shoulders before sliding up to fist in that dark hair. This wasn’t some Hallmark bullshit. It was a collision of two broken, powerful things trying to fuse the fuck together.
The air in the study turned into pure, suffocating heat. Wenlang’s shirt was the first casualty, the buttons let out a series of shitty, plastic snaps as Hua Yong practically ripped it off his shoulders. Wenlang didn't care; he was too busy tugging at Hua Yong’s own shirt, needing to feel the goddamn heat of the Enigma’s skin against his own.
When their chests finally hit, the friction was like a goddamn electric shock. Wenlang’s S-Tier gold was bleeding into the air, mixing with the dark, violet pressure of Hua Yong’s presence. It was too much. It was too goddamn loud. Every touch felt like a goddamn explosion, their hands wandering—searching for purchase on sweaty skin, mapping out the wreckage of each other's bodies.
Hua Yong let out a low, vibrating growl, pinning Wenlang against the edge of the obsidian desk. The files—the shitty, horrific files—were scattered to the floor, forgotten.
But then, Hua Yong froze.
His forehead thudded against Wenlang’s, both of them gasping for air like they’d just run a goddamn marathon through a fire. Hua Yong’s grip on Wenlang’s hips tightened, then slowly, agonizingly, he pulled back just an inch.
"We... we need to stop," Hua Yong rasped, his eyes a blown-out, terrifying shade of violet. "If we don't stop right fucking now, Wenlang... I’m going to lose my goddamn mind. And we have a world to burn."
Wenlang stayed there for a second, his chest heaving, his skin humming with a sweary, unsatisfied energy. He looked at Hua Yong—his hair a mess, his lips swollen, looking less like a Reaper and more like a man on the edge of a goddamn cliff.
"Yeah," Wenlang choked out, a jagged, shaky breath escaping him. "Yeah. You're right. Shitty timing. Absolutely goddamn terrible timing."
Wenlang leaned in one last time, giving him a hard, final kiss that tasted like a promise of things to come, then he disentangled himself. He felt like his legs were made of fucking jelly, but he forced himself to stand straight.
"I'm making coffee," Wenlang muttered, grabbing his ruined shirt from the floor. "The strong stuff. Don't you dare start the goddamn planning without me."
He vanished toward the kitchen, the cold marble of the floor helping to ground his fried nervous system. He needed a minute. He needed five minutes and a goddamn gallon of caffeine to forget the way Hua Yong’s hands felt on his skin.
Ten minutes later, Wenlang walked back into the study, two mugs of bitter, steaming black coffee in hand. He looked like himself again—mostly—though his eyes were still glowing with a low, dangerous gold.
Hua Yong had already gathered the files from the floor. He was staring at the digital map again, his face back to that cold, "Chairman" mask, but the way his gaze lingered on Wenlang’s lips for a split second told a different, fucking story.
"The Gala," Hua Yong said, his voice returning to that low, gravelly authority. "The Old Associates think they’re the ones holding the leash. They think Project Omega is their crowning achievement."
Wenlang set the coffee down and leaned over the desk, his eyes narrowing at the list of names on the screen. "They think they made a 'perfected unit.' They think they can control the King and the Reaper."
"They’re about to find out that when you link two monsters together," Hua Yong hissed, tapping a finger on the location of the Gala’s VIP ballroom, "you don't get a tool. You get a goddamn apocalypse."
Wenlang felt a dark, smirk pull at his lips. The kiss was a memory for later. Right now, there was work to do. "So, how are we doing this? I want these pricks to see us coming. I want them to feel the goddamn floor shake before we even open our mouths."
Hua Yong looked at him, and for the first time, it wasn't a threat—it was a partnership. "We aren't just going to crash their party, Wenlang. We’re going to be the main goddamn event."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next four hours were a goddamn blur of encrypted servers, floor plans, and enough bitter caffeine to give a normal man a heart attack. The study looked like a war room in a shitty spy movie, covered in digital projections and printouts of the Old Associates' dirty laundry. Every time Wenlang’s hand brushed Hua Yong’s while reaching for a file, that "closed circuit" sparked again, a sweary reminder of the heat they’d barely managed to shut down earlier.
They were deep in the weeds of a goddamn shell company’s firewalls when the doorbell screamed through the penthouse.
9:00 PM on the dot.
The doorbell didn’t just ring; it cut through the heavy, fucking tension of the study like a goddamn serrated blade.
Hua Yong was on his feet in a second, his violet eyes flashing with a cold, predatory light. He didn’t know who the fuck was at the door, but his Enigma instincts were already screaming threat. He moved toward the foyer, his posture a low, vibrating promise of a goddamn massacre if whoever was outside didn't have a fucking good reason for being there.
"Stay back," Hua Yong rumbled, his voice like grinding tectonic plates.
"Relax, you prick. It's probably for me," Wenlang groaned, shoving past him. He recognized the specific, rhythmic pattern of that doorbell—it was the signal of someone who didn't give a damn about Chairman Hua's security protocols.
Wenlang ripped the door open.
Standing there was Sheng Shayou, looking every bit the billionaire CEO in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than a goddamn house. Behind him, looking sharp and deceptively calm, was Gao Tu, his Omega secretary, and life partner.
"You look like you've been dragged through a goddamn hedge backwards, Wenlang," Shayou said, his eyes scanning Wenlang’s face for any sign of a total mental collapse.
"ShaYou? What the fuck are you doing here?" Wenlang rasped, the relief hitting him so hard his knees almost buckled.
Hua Yong didn't step back. He stepped forward, his presence expanding until the hallway felt like it was being sucked into a goddamn vacuum. He didn't know these people. He didn't know the Alpha with the sharp eyes or the Omega who smelled like stabilizing rain. All he knew was that they were in his space, looking at his Alpha.
"Who the fuck are you?" Hua Yong growled, his voice dropping an octave into that terrifying Reaper register.
Sheng ShaYou didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. He met the Enigma's violet gaze with a jagged, cold stare of his own. "I'm the guy who’s been keeping Wenlang's business afloat while you’ve been busy playing goddamn mad scientist with his life. I'm his friend. And who the hell are you? Aside from the man currently vibrating with enough shitty pheromones to choke a horse?"
Wenlang stepped between them, his hands out. "Stop it. Both of you. Hua Yong, this is Sheng ShaYou. He's the CEO of Sheng Corp. He’s the only reason I haven't gone totally goddamn bankrupt this week. ShaYou... this is Hua Yong."
Sheng’s eyes narrowed, his gaze darting to the faint, jagged mark on Wenlang’s neck. His jaw tightened so hard Wenlang heard the goddamn bone creak.
"I heard about the 'accident' on the sidewalk," Sheng said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous hiss as he looked back at Hua Yong. "I heard about the bond. And I came here to make sure that if you've been hurting him, or if you plan on using him as some shitty biological battery, I'll spend every cent of my fortune making sure you end up in a goddamn fucking ditch."
Hua Yong’s lip curled into a silent, sweary snarl. "He’s mine to protect. Not yours."
"He's my friend, you violet-eyed prick," Sheng shot back, stepping further into the penthouse. "And 'protecting' him usually doesn't involve turning his goddamn DNA into a science experiment."
The air was still thick with the smell of ozone and territorial rage, but Wenlang managed to herd the whole goddamn mess into the living room.
Gao Tu, ever the professional, had already set a briefcase on the coffee table and was pulling out a high-spec tablet, ignoring the two The Enigma and the Alpha who looked like they wanted to tear each other's throats out.
"Coffee. Now," Wenlang muttered, pointing Sheng toward the couch.
They sat down, the atmosphere vibrating with a new kind of intensity. Sheng wasn't here for a social visit; he was here because he’d smelled the blood in the water from the Old Associates' shitty games.
"I've got the internal logs from the pharmaceutical board," Sheng said, sliding the tablet toward the center of the table. "They think they're untouchable because they've got the Enigma on a leash. They don't know the 'Project' has a mind of its own."
Hua Yong sat next to Wenlang, his arm draped across the back of the couch in a possessive, jagged line. He was listening now, his cold calculation overriding his territorial shitty temper.
"The Gala on Tuesday," Hua Yong said, his voice level but deadly. "We were planning the entry. If you have the financial bypasses, we can lock them in the room before the first goddamn toast is even made."
Sheng ShaYou looked at Hua Yong, then at Wenlang, seeing the way their powers were starting to bleed together in that "closed circuit." He let out a long, sweary sigh.
"Fine. We do it your way," Sheng muttered. "But let's get one thing fucking straight, Hua Yong. If we get through this and I see one more bruise on him, Enigma or not, I will end you. Do we have a goddamn understanding?"
Hua Yong stared at him for a long, silent heartbeat, then gave a single, sharp nod. "Perfectly."
"Good," Wenlang grunted, leaning over the table. "Now let's talk about how we're going to turn those shitty pricks into a goddamn memory."