The Judas Heart

The morning was a fucking blur of nausea and shame. Wenlang was still in the bedroom, dressed in nothing but a pair of black silk trousers Hua Yong had tossed at him like a bone to a dog. The silver collar was a cold weight against his throat, and the mark—that jagged, violet—felt like it was pulsing in sync with the city's traffic outside.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands, when the first explosion rocked the apartment.

BOOM.

The sound of the front door being breached was followed immediately by the sharp, rhythmic pop-pop-pop of flashbangs and the shouting of men.

"Police! Nobody fucking move!"

"Boss! Shen! Where are you?"

Wenlang's head snapped up. Zhao. That loyal, stubborn, beautiful idiot had actually done it. He hadn't gone to the cops; he'd brought his own private security team—mercenaries, mostly Betas who wouldn't be paralyzed by Hua Yong's pheromones.

"I'm in here!" Wenlang tried to scream, but his voice was a dry, useless rasp.

The bedroom door was kicked off its hinges a second later. Zhao burst in, a tactical rifle in his hands, his face a mask of sweating, desperate determination. He looked at Wenlang—at the bruises, the collar, and the way he was chained to the bedpost—and let out a sound of pure, unadulterated fury.

"That fucking animal," Zhao hissed, stepping over the wreckage of the door. "We've got you, Boss. We're getting you out of this hellhole."

One of the mercenaries moved forward with a pair of heavy-duty bolt cutters. "Hold still, Mr. Shen. We'll have this chain off in a second."

Wenlang should have been relieved. He should have been jumping for fucking joy. But as the metal jaws of the bolt cutters bit into the silver chain, a wave of pure, biological terror washed over him. It wasn't the fear of being caught; it was the fear of being separated.

"Wait," Wenlang gasped, his hand flying up to catch the mercenary's arm. "Wait, don't—"

SNAP.

The chain hit the floor with a heavy, metallic ring.

The second the physical tether was broken, the biological one screamed. It felt like someone had reached into Wenlang's chest and tried to rip his heart out through his ribs. His S-Tier lungs seized up, his vision sparked with white light, and he collapsed forward, retching onto the carpet.

"Boss! What's wrong? Are you hit?" Zhao knelt beside him, his hands hovering over Wenlang's shoulders, afraid to touch the ruined skin.

"The... the bond..." Wenlang wheezed, his fingers clawing at the collar. "You... you don't understand... it's fucking killing me..."

"It's not killing you, it's just that bastard's influence," Zhao growled, signaling the men. "Pick him up. We're moving. Now!"

Two large men grabbed Wenlang under the arms, hauling him to his feet. Every step away from the bedroom felt like walking through a goddamn fire. His skin felt like it was being peeled off. His head was throbbing with a migraine so intense he couldn't see straight.

"Fucking... stop..." Wenlang groaned, his head lolling. "I can't... I can't leave..."

"Yes, you fucking can!" Zhao yelled, leading them toward the hallway. "You're Shen Wenlang! You're an Alpha! You don't belong in a goddamn cage!"

They reached the living room, which was a wreck of smoke and broken glass. And there, standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, was Hua Yong.

He didn't have a gun. He didn't have a team. He was just standing there, a glass of water in one hand, looking at the tactical team as if they were a particularly boring swarm of flies.

"Put him down," Hua Yong said. His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the chaos like a jagged blade.

"Shut the fuck up!" Zhao screamed, leveling his rifle at Hua Yong's head. "I should blow your brains across the glass right now, you sick fuck."

"You could," Hua Yong agreed, taking a slow sip of water. "But if you kill me, he dies three minutes later. And if you take him out of this room, his heart will stop before you hit the lobby. Go ahead, Zhao. Take him. See what happens to an Alpha when his Enigma is ripped away."

Wenlang was shaking so hard his teeth were clicking together. He looked at Hua Yong, and for a split second, the hate was gone, replaced by a desperate, starving need. The mark on his neck was glowing, a bright, angry violet that pulsed in time with Hua Yong's steady breathing.

"Boss, don't listen to him," Zhao pleaded, his voice cracking. "He's fucking with your head. We have doctors, we have specialists—"

"You have nothing," Hua Yong snapped, his violet eyes flashing with a terrifying light. He released a wave of pheromones—not a 'Command,' but a 'Summons.' It was a silent, biological scream that only Wenlang could hear. Come back to me.

Wenlang let out a choked sob. He ripped his arms free from the mercenaries' grip. He didn't run for the door. He didn't run for freedom.

He fell to his knees and started crawling toward Hua Yong.

"Boss! No! What the fuck are you doing?" Zhao cried out, reaching for him.

"Stay back!" Wenlang roared, his voice returning with a feral, frightening power. He turned and glared at Zhao, his eyes glowing a predatory, unnatural gold. "Don't... don't you fucking touch me! Get out! Get the fuck out of here!"

"Shen... please..." Zhao's face was a mask of total, soul-crushing betrayal.

"I said get out!" Wenlang screamed, his hand clutching at the collar as he reached Hua Yong's feet. He wrapped his arms around the Enigma's legs, his forehead pressing against Hua Yong's knees. "Go! Leave us! Just... fucking leave!"

The mercenaries looked at each other, then at Zhao. They were professionals; they knew a lost cause when they saw one. They could see the mark. They could see the way the Alpha was clinging to his "Monster" like a lifeline.

"He's gone, Zhao," the lead mercenary muttered, grabbing Zhao's shoulder. "That's not your Boss anymore. That's a mate. We have to go before the Enigma decides to kill us all."

Zhao stood there for a long time, his rifle shaking in his hands. He looked at Wenlang—the man who had been his hero, his mentor, his king—and saw a broken creature begging to stay in its cage.

"I hate you," Zhao whispered, directed at both of them. "I fucking hate what you've become."

The team retreated, the sound of their boots echoing down the hallway until the heavy front door slammed shut again.

The apartment went dead silent.

Hua Yong looked down at Wenlang, his expression unreadable. He reached down and ran a hand through Wenlang's sweat-soaked hair, his fingers grazing the silver collar.

"See?" Hua Yong whispered, his voice almost gentle, which made it ten times more terrifying. "I told you. You don't want to be saved. You don't even know how to be an Alpha without me anymore."

Wenlang didn't answer. He just held onto Hua Yong's legs, his body finally stopping its violent shaking as the proximity settled his nerves. He felt disgusted. He felt like the biggest piece of shit in the world. He had just chased away the only person who truly cared about him so he could stay with the man who had ruined him.

"I... I hate you," Wenlang whispered into Hua Yong's trousers, his voice thick with tears. "I fucking hate you so much it's killing me."

"I know," Hua Yong said, pulling Wenlang up and into his arms. "But you're still here. And you're never going to try to leave again, are you?"

Wenlang didn't say anything. He just buried his face in Hua Yong's chest and let out a long, broken sound that was half-sob, half-surrender. The "Rescue" was over. The last bridge was burned. And as the sun hit the violet mark on his neck, Shen Wenlang finally realized the truth.

He didn't want to be free. He just wanted to be his.

~~~~~~~~~

"I said get in the fucking shower," Hua Yong growled, his voice vibrating through the ruined hallway.

Wenlang didn't move. He was staring at the spot where Zhao had stood, his mind a shattered mess of gold and gray. "He looked at me like I was a fucking corpse, Hua Yong. My best friend. My brother. He looked at me like I was something he needed to put down."

"Because you are," Hua Yong said, walking over and grabbing Wenlang by the arm. He didn't lead him; he dragged him. "You're dead to that world, Wenlang. You're dead to anyone who doesn't have my mark. Now, move."

He shoved Wenlang into the bathroom—the same bathroom where Wenlang had smashed the mirror only hours before. Shards of glass still glittered on the marble floor like diamonds in a bloodbath.

Hua Yong turned the water on. High. Scalding. The steam began to fill the room, smelling of hot tile and ozone.

"Take the trousers off," Hua Yong commanded, leaning against the sink and lighting a cigarette, the smoke curling around his cold, violet eyes.

"Do it yourself, you bastard," Wenlang spat, his fingers trembling as he fumbled with the silk tie at his waist. "You've already taken everything else. Why stop at the goddamn clothes?"

Hua Yong didn't say a word. He stepped forward, his movements fluid and terrifyingly calm, and ripped the silk trousers down with one hand. He didn't care about the fabric; he cared about the man underneath. He shoved Wenlang under the spray of the water.

"FUCK!" Wenlang screamed as the near-boiling water hit his bruised, sensitive skin. It felt like needles of fire. "Turn it down! Turn it the fuck down!"

"No," Hua Yong said, grabbing a sponge and a bottle of harsh, scent-neutralizing soap. "You smell like a tactical team. You smell like gunpowder and Alpha sweat and Zhao's pathetic, crying pheromones. I'm scrubbing every goddamn inch of them off you."

What followed was a slow, systematic humiliation. Hua Yong used the sponge like a weapon, scouring Wenlang's chest, his back, his thighs, until the skin was raw and glowing red. Wenlang tried to fight, his hands splashing uselessly against the glass of the shower, but the Enigma's presence in the small, steamed-up space was overwhelming. It was like trying to punch a thunderstorm.

"You're... you're sick," Wenlang gasped, his head thumping against the wet tile. The steam was making him lightheaded, and the heat was making the mark on his neck throb with a frantic, rhythmic intensity. "You're fucking obsessed."

"I'm thorough," Hua Yong corrected, his hand moving to Wenlang's neck, his fingers tracing the silver collar under the rushing water. He scrubbed around the violet brand, his touch firm and possessive. "I want them all gone, Wenlang. Every memory of your old life. Every scent that isn't mine. By the time we walk into that boardroom tomorrow, you're going to be so saturated with my scent that you won't even remember what freedom feels like."

Wenlang let out a broken, jagged sob. He couldn't help it. The combination of the physical pain, the heat, and the crushing weight of the bond was finally breaking the last of his S-Tier defenses. He slumped against Hua Yong, his forehead resting on the Enigma's damp shoulder, his body finally, truly giving up the ghost.

"That's it," Hua Yong whispered, his voice almost tender against the roar of the water. "Give it up, Alpha. Stop fighting the inevitable. It's so much easier when you just let go."

"I... I fucking... hate you..." Wenlang whispered, his fingers curling into Hua Yong's wet shirt, holding on even as he cursed him.

"I know you do," Hua Yong said, shutting off the water.

The silence that followed was deafening. Wenlang stood there, dripping, raw, and completely exposed. He looked down at his own hands—the hands that used to sign billion-dollar deals—and saw only the tremors of a man who belonged to someone else.

Hua Yong grabbed a towel and started drying him off, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he were polishing a piece of fine jewelry. He didn't look at Wenlang as a person; he looked at him as a project.

"Tomorrow," Hua Yong said, throwing the towel aside and looking Wenlang in the eye. "Tomorrow, you're going to wear the most expensive suit you own. You're going to wear that collar like it's a goddamn crown. And when the board looks at you, they aren't going to see a victim. They're going to see the man who survived an Enigma and came out the other side as something more."

"And what am I?" Wenlang asked, his voice hollow. "If I'm not a victim, and I'm not the CEO... what the fuck am I?"

Hua Yong leaned in, his lips brushing against the violet mark on Wenlang's neck. "You're the most powerful weapon in this city, Wenlang. And I'm the only one who knows how to pull the trigger."

Hua Yong walked out, leaving Wenlang standing in the middle of the steam, naked and branded, staring at the shattered remains of the mirror.

He reached up and touched the collar. It was warm from the water. It felt like a part of his own body now. He looked at the empty space where his reflection used to be and realized that the "Rescue" hadn't just failed because of the bond.

It had failed because, deep down, in the darkest, most sweary parts of his soul, he didn't want the old Wenlang back. That man was weak. That man could be betrayed.

The man he was becoming? The man with the violet mark and the silver leash?

He was going to burn the world down, and he was going to start with the Shen Corporation.