Alpha's Protection

The hours crawled by like a funeral procession. Inside the reinforced suite, the air had finally begun to settle. The violent, jagged pulses of violet static had retreated into a heavy, thick simmer. Shen lay on the rug, his chest heaving, his skin slick with a sweat that smelled like the aftermath of a lightning strike.

He wasn't "better," but the feral explosion of the Seeking Mate Disorder had been banked. The pheromones were still rolling off him in waves—a deep, possessive musk that would have brought a normal Alpha to their knees—but the immediate danger of him ripping the door off its hinges to hunt Liang had passed.

The heavy lock clicked. Shen didn't move. He watched through half-lidded eyes as the door swung open.

Wenlang stepped into the wreckage. The King scanned the room with a mix of parental ache and the calm of a man who had lived with an Enigma for two decades. The scent hit him like a physical wall, but Wenlang didn't flinch.

"You look like hell, son," Wenlang said softly, closing the door and walking into the violet haze.

"Don't come closer, Papa," Shen rasped. "I'm still... volatile."

Wenlang ignored him, sitting on the edge of the low bed near where Shen was slumped. He placed a steady hand on Shen’s damp forehead. "I've dealt with your father’s moods since before you were a spark in his eye. You think your little tantrum is going to do something.

Shen let out a dry, hacking laugh. "He went to school. The fucking idiot actually went."

"He did," Wenlang murmured. "He stood at that door for ten minutes, Shen. He was confused. He felt the pull, even if his thick Alpha skull couldn't name it. He didn't want to leave you."

"But he did," Shen hissed, violet eyes flashing. "Because he thinks I have the flu. He doesn't feel the hunger."

"He will," Wenlang promised, his voice turning dark and certain. "That thing you did this morning? Tending to his mark? You planted a seed. While he’s sitting in those boring classes, he’s going to be smelling you on his skin. He’s going to wonder why his heart feels like it’s being pulled toward this penthouse by a goddamn chain."

Shen closed his eyes, soaking in the grounding presence.

"Stay here and breathe," Wenlang commanded. Dad and I are staying close. And when he comes back tonight... we’ll see if that 'clueless' mask can survive the scent of an Enigma."

The sun finally dipped below the skyline, casting the penthouse in a bruised purple hue. The immediate danger of the Rut had broken, leaving Shen in a state of agonizing anticipation. He sat against the mahogany bedframe, counting the ticks of the clock.

Then, the click of the main door. He's back.

For Liang, the day had been an excruciating marathon. St. Jude’s without Shen wasn't just dull; it was a void. He’d sat through his classes feeling like he was suffocating. And the scent—the ozone and dark chocolate Shen had painted over his collarbone—was haunting him. Every time he turned his head, it was there.

He didn't drop his bag. He didn't go to the kitchen. He walked straight to the back wing.

He found the suite door cracked open. Liang stopped in the frame, silver-gold eyes wide. He saw Shen wrecked on the floor, glowing eyes locked on him. Liang didn't speak. He just slumped against the doorframe and slid down to the floor, mirroring Shen’s pose from the other side of the divide.

"I had an agonizingly boring day," Liang whispered, his voice cracking. "Without you... everything felt gray. Everyone else felt irrelevant."

He played with a loose thread on his jacket. "I realized something today. Or maybe I just can't run from it. I need you, Shen. I need you close. I hate every second you aren't right goddamn here."

The fucking idiot still didn't have a clue. He had just confessed a biological addiction and thought it was "intense loyalty."

Inside the room, the violet static exploded. The Enigma had his opening.

"You're a fucking idiot, Liang," Shen rumbled.

Liang let out a shaky laugh. "Yeah, well. Tell me something I don't know. I felt like I was missing a limb all day."

Shen slid across the floor until he was sitting right against the crack in the door, inches from Liang. He could smell the lingering mark of his own pheromones on the Alpha. It was fucking intoxicating.

"If you need me so much," Shen whispered, "then why are you sitting out there? The door isn't locked, Liang."

Liang froze. That wird giddy feeling flared into a full-blown panic—the good kind. The kind where you want to jump off a cliff. "I don't want to get sick. Your dads said—"

"I'm not contagious," Shen murmured. "I'm just... hungry. And lonely."

Liang didn't hesitate. He crawled into the room. The door clicked shut, and the darkness swallowed them, lit only by the iridescent glow of Shen’s eyes. Liang sat back-to-back with him, feeling the furnace-like heat of the Enigma’s spine.

"Better?" Shen asked.

"Yeah," Liang breathed, closing his eyes. "A lot fucking better."

"Shen?"

"Mmh?"

"At school today, they wondered why you werent't there," Liang whispered, in a low voice.

"Okay, and?" Shen, asked.

"Nothing, i guess i just missed you."

Shen chuckled. "Idiot," Shen whispered.

They stayed there for hours, utill Shen felt Liang's head slumping on his shoulder. He smiled, but he did't move, he just stayed there. And afther an hour Shen drifted off to sleep too, still on the floor.

•••

The morning arrived with the slow realization that boundaries had been trampled.

When Liang blinked his eyes open, he wasn't back-to-back anymore. At some point, he’d turned, winding his arms around Shen’s waist, his forehead resting against the Enigma’s collarbone. He was now freaking out.

Shen was still asleep, his head tilted back. In sleep, the lethal sharpness was gone, replaced by a vulnerability that made Liang’s heart do a violent somersault.

Fuck, Liang thought, his ears burning. I’m cuddling him like a lost puppy. He's my best friend not a fucking puppy.

He scrambled backward. The movement jolted Shen awake. Violet eyes snapped open. "Morning," Shen rasped, his voice thick with the remnants of the Rut.

"Yeah. Morning," Liang stammered, standing so fast he almost tripped. "I... I should go. Football practice." "Liang," Shen called out. Liang stopped at the door. "Don't forget your hoodie. It’s cold out."

Liang bolted. He didn't see the satisfied smirk on Shen’s lips. The hook was set.

At St. Jude’s later that afternoon, the "awkwardness" followed him like a ghost. He was at his locker when he heard a group of Alphas laughing by the fountain.

"Did you see Shen?" a burly Alpha named Mang sneered. "Locked up in his penthouse. Probably lost his mind. An Enigma without a mate is just a ticking time bomb. A freak." A low, dangerous growl started in Liang’s throat.

"I heard the Reaper has to keep him drugged—"

Before the Alpha could finish, Liang slammed his hand against the locker next to Mang's  head, denting the metal. His eyes flashed with a lethal, golden fire.

"Say another fucking word about Shen," Liang hissed, his voice dropping into a register that sounded terrifyingly like an Enigma, "and I’ll make sure you’re breathing through a tube. He’s worth ten of you. If I hear his name in your mouth again, you’re fucking  dead. Got it?"

The Alphas scrambled away. Liang stood there, chest heaving, knuckles aching. He told himself he was just being a good friend, protecting him.

"What are you getting so worked up for, Liang? It’s not like he’s actually sick," Mo Ran that predatory jerk jeered, tossing his bag over his shoulder. "Everyone knows the King and the Reaper are just hiding him because he’s gone feral. That wasn't the flu coming off that penthouse yesterday, man. That was a heavy, grade-A Rut. Your dads lied to your face to keep you from getting mauled by a monster."

The world tilted.

Rut.

The word hit Liang like a physical fucking blow to the solar plexus. The "sick" excuse, the "contagious" warnings, the way Wenlang had looked at him with that calm, practiced pity—it all shattered. Liang wasn’t stupid. He had felt the ozone in the air. He had felt the way his own Alpha blood had screamed to submit, to crawl, to belong to that violet static. He knew Shen wasn't sick. Deep down, he’d known the second he smelled that dark, possessive chocolate musk.

He felt like a complete fucking idiot. He had sat there like a loyal dog, believing stories about fevers while Shen was drowning in a biological fire. And his fathers... they had looked him in the eye and fucking lied.

The embarrassment turned into a white-hot, jagged rage. It wasn't just anger; it was a territorial explosion.

"He's not a monster," Liang whispered, but the voice that came out didn't sound like his. It was low, vibrating with a lethal frequency that made the nearby lockers rattle.

"Whatever you say, lapdog," Mo Ran  muttered, turning to walk away. "Go back to your—"

Liang didn't think. He moved.

He was a blur of silver-gold motion. He grabbed Mo Ran by the back of his neck and slammed him face-first into the brick wall of the fountain. The sound of bone meeting stone cracked through the courtyard.

"Liang! Stop!" someone shouted, but he was deaf to it.

He spun Mo Ran around, pinning him against the edge of the fountain with a forearm crushed against the guy’s throat. Mo Ran’s nose was gushing blood, his eyes wide with pure, unadulterated terror. Liang’s knuckles were white, his grip like a vice.

"You think it's funny?" Liang hissed, his face inches from Mo Ran's. The golden fire in his eyes was fucking blinding now. "You think you can talk about him like he’s a freak? Like he’s something to be locked away?"

He shoved Mo Ran’s head back toward the water, the Alpha’s heels kicking uselessly at the ground.

"My fathers lied," Liang growled, more to himself than Mo Ran, his teeth bared in a snarl. "But you... you're going to learn what happens when you breathe his fucking name."

With a roar of pure, fucking frustrated power, Liang threw Mo Ran aside like a ragdoll. The Alpha crashed into a row of trash cans, groaning in agony. Liang stood there, chest heaving, his hands shaking—not from fear, but from the sheer volume of adrenaline surging through his veins.

He looked at his bruised knuckles, then up at the penthouse towers in the distance. The fucking idiot for now was gone. In his place was an Alpha who finally realized he’d been played—and he was done following the rules.

He didn't head for the practice field. He headed for the exit. He needed to see Shen, and this time, no lie from his fathers was going to keep him on the other side of that door.

•••

The penthouse was quiet, the air smelling of expensive coffee and the lingering, grounded scent of a family finally breathing together. Shen was sitting at the marble island, his iridescent violet eyes fixed on the dark, bitter liquid in his cup. He looked mostly recovered, though a lingering tightness in his jaw betrayed the toll the Rut had taken on his body.

Hua Yong and Wenlang were flanking him, sipping their own coffee in a rare moment of domestic stillness, while Shayou and Gao Tu lounged in the living room. It was peaceful—until the front door didn't just open; it practically exploded off its fucking hinges.

Liang stormed in like a fucking hurricane made of meat and rage. His face was a mask of pure, unadulterated fury, his silver-gold eyes glowing with a fucking lethal, frantic light. He was vibrating, his hands balled into fists so tight his knuckles were white.

"I'm going to fucking kill him!" Liang roared, the sound echoing off the high ceilings like a cannon blast. "I’m going to end his shitty, useless life!"

He ripped his varsity bag off his shoulder and hurled it across the room. It hit the floor with a heavy thud, sliding into a side table. Liang wasn't just mad; he was in a full Alpha-shifted rage. He pivoted toward the living room, his eyes landing on an expensive crystal vase.

"Liang?" Gao Tu started, half-rising from the sofa, but the Alpha didn't hear him. Liang swept his arm across a console table, sending a lamp and a porcelain sculpture crashing to the floor in a spray of shards. He was breathing in jagged, animalistic heaves. He was fucking loosing it.

He reached for another vase, but he never touched it.

In an instant—a blur of movement—Shen was there. He moved with practiced, lethal speed, appearing directly behind the thrashing Alpha. He reached out, grabbing both of Liang’s wrists and wrenching them behind his back in a firm, unbreakable lock. He pressed his chest against Liang's spine, using his weight to pin the larger boy’s momentum.

Liang struggled, a guttural snarl ripping from his throat, but the grip was like iron. Shen leaned in, his mouth inches from Liang's ear. He didn't whisper. He unleashed the full, terrifying weight of his bloodline.

"LIANG! CALM THE FUCK DOWN RIGHT FUCKING NOW!"

The Enigma Command hit the room like a physical shockwave. Liang’s body went rigid. The frantic fire in his eyes flickered and fucking died, replaced by a dazed, submissive haze. His knees buckled slightly, his muscles turning to water. Shen didn't let go immediately. He held the Alpha firmly.

"Breathe," Shen commanded, softer now. "Tell me. Word by fucking word. Why are you breaking my furniture?"

Liang let out a long, shuddering breath. He didn't look at Shen yet. Instead, his glowing eyes snapped toward Hua Yong and Wenlang, who were standing by the island.

"Mo Ran... and those other shits," Liang rasped, his voice trembling. "They were laughing. Saying the Reaper had to lock his monster son in a cage because he went feral. They said it was a Rut."

Liang wrenched his arms out of Shen's grip and spun around. He didn't go for the furniture this time. He looked straight at his fathers, his chest heaving with a different kind of pain.

"I know you weren't sick, Shen," Liang yelled, his voice cracking. He turned his glare to Wenlang and Hua Yong. "Why did you lie to me? You treated me like some clueless outsider! I felt it—I felt the air changing, I felt him pulling at me—and you guys looked me in the face and told me it was the flu? You let me walk away when he was... when he was in pain?"

The kitchen went silent. Hua Yong and Wenlang exchanged a look—one of pride, but also a heavy realization. Liang wasn't just a fucking idiot anymore; his instincts were catching up to his heart.

"We were protecting the secret, Liang," Wenlang said softly, stepping forward. "An Enigma's Rut is dangerous. We didn't think you were ready to handle that weight."

"I'm his Alpha!" Liang snapped back, the words flying out of his mouth before his brain could fucking process them. "I should have been here! I felt like I was losing a something all day because I thought he was dying, and you guys just... you lied."

Shen’s expression shifted. He stepped into Liang’s space, his own iridescent violet eyes glowing with a cold clarity. He reached out, placing a steadying hand on Liang's shoulder.

"I don't care what Mo Ran says, Liang," Shen said, his voice flat and deadly, pulling the Alpha's attention back to him. "But if they’re breathing my air—if they even look at you tomorrow—they will regret it. I’m coming with you. And by second period, the only thing they’ll be capable of is an apology."

•••

The dinner that followed was thick with a tension Liang couldn't quite name. He sat at the long marble table, staring at his plate of steak and greens like they were an unsolved fucking math equation.

I'm his Alpha.

The words played on a loop in his head, loud and fucking mocking. He hadn't just said it; he had roared it. In front of the King. In front of the Reaper. In front of Shen, and his fathers. His face felt like it was being held over an open flame.

I meant... I meant I’m his best friend, Liang told himself, his fork scraping aggressively against the porcelain. Alphas protect their person. Shen is my person. It was a biological protective reflex. That’s all. Just a reflex.

Across the table, Gao Tu and Shayou were exchanging looks that were anything but subtle. Gao Tu leaned back, tapping his fingers on the table, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he watched Liang struggle to breathe.

"So, Liang," Gao Tu said, his voice dripping with feigned innocence. "You sounded pretty intense earlier. 'I'm his Alpha.' Quite the statement. I didn't know you’d finally graduated from being his 'bodyguard' to his... primary protector."

Liang fucking choked on a piece of broccoli. He coughed violently, his face turning a shade of red that almost matched the wine in Wenlang’s glass. "I—I was just... Mo Ran was talking shit! I was just making a point about loyalty!"

"Loyalty," Wenlang murmured from the head of the table, cutting his steak with clinical precision. He didn't look up, but a small, knowing smirk played at the corner of his mouth. "Of course. It’s a very... territorial kind of loyalty, isn't it?"

Liang looked toward Shen for backup, but the Enigma was just watching him. Shen wasn't eating. He was leaning back, one arm draped over the back of his chair, his violet eyes tracking every flush of red on Liang’s neck. He looked fucking satisfied—like a predator that had finally seen its prey stop fucking running and start digging its own grave.

"Let the idiot eat, Papa," Shen finally drawled, though his voice had a purr to it that made the hair on Liang’s arms stand up. "He’s had a long day of realizing he isn't as smart as he thinks he is."

"I am smart!" Liang snapped, finding his voice again. "I just... I don't like being lied to. About the Rut. About any of it."

"Then don't lie to yourself, Liang," Hua Yong said quietly, his violet eyes piercing through Liang’s defenses.

Liang went silent, shoving a massive piece of steak into his mouth so he wouldn't have to answer.

Hours later, the penthouse had dimmed. The elders had retired to their wings, leaving the living room bathed in the soft, blue glow of the city skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Liang couldn't sleep. His skin felt too fucking tight for his body. He wandered out into the living room, hoping the cool air would settle his buzzing nerves, but he stopped short when he saw a shadow on the balcony.

Shen was standing outside, the glass door cracked open. The wind caught his dark hair, and the faint scent of ozone still clung to him—the leftovers of the Rut that hadn't quite faded.

"Can't sleep?" Shen asked without turning around.

"Too much caffeine," Liang lied, stepping onto the balcony to stand beside him. The cold air hit him, but beside Shen, it was always warm. It was like standing next to a fucking furnace.

They stood in silence for a long time, looking out at the lights of the city.

"You really meant it, didn't you?" Shen said softly. "What you told my dads. That you should have been here."

Liang rubbed the back of his neck, feeling that weird, giddy panic again. "I just hate the idea of you being in pain and me being at school pretending everything is fine. We’re a team, Shen. If you’re going through hell, I should be there to... I don't know, hold the door or something."

Shen turned, leaning his back against the railing, his face inches from Liang’s. In the dark, his eyes were fucking glowing like twin stars. "You want to be in the room with an Enigma in Rut, Liang? You have no idea what that would do to an Alpha like you. It wouldn't be 'holding the door.' It would be me fucking breaking you."

Liang’s heart did a shitty violent somersault. He should have been scared. He should have backed away. But instead, he stepped closer, his chest almost brushing Shen’s leather jacket.

"I'm not fragile, Shen," Liang whispered, his voice dropping into that deep, golden register again. "I can handle you."

The fucking idiot didn't realize he had just challenged the most dangerous creature on the planet.

Shen’s breath hitched. For a second, his hand twitched, reaching for Liang’s throat—not to hurt, but to pull him in. The air between them thickened, vibrating with a static that made Liang’s teeth fucking ache.

But Shen pulled back at the last second, a jagged, dark laugh escaping his lips. "You really are a moron. Go to bed, Liang. Before I decide to take you up on that."

Liang blinked, the spell breaking. "Yeah. Bed. Right. Morning practice is gonna suck."

He scrambled back inside, tripping slightly over the door frame. As he hurried to his room, his brain was screaming: What the fucking hell was that? Why did I want him to touch me?

On the balcony, Shen stayed in the cold, his fists clenched. He looked at the spot where Liang had been standing, his violet eyes burning with a hunger that had nothing to do with the Rut.

"Soon," Shen whispered to the wind. "Soon, you won't be able to run behind that 'best friend' lie anymore."