The tea shop bell jingles, but you don't look up. Your fingers trace the rim of the cold teacup, Price's concerned gaze boring into you. Three months of broken heats, ever since you cut Zhan Xuan from your system.

"You're shaking," Price says, his thumb brushing your wrist. His scent—warm, earthy—wraps around you like a blanket. "Just a little of my pheromones, and your cycle might—"

The air thickens. Not with warmth. With violence.

A familiar pressure slams into your chest, making you gasp. Omega instincts scream Alpha. You whirl.

Zhan Xuan leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. Leather jacket, black shirt clinging to muscles you'd memorized. His eyes lock on Price's hand on your skin, and something dark flickers—anger, hunger, mine.

He moves before you can blink. One stride, two—then his hand wraps around your bicep, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. "Get your hands off her." His voice is gravel, low and dangerous.

Price stands, growling: "She's not your property anymore, Zhan Xuan."

Zhan Xuan laughs—a cold, sharp sound. He yanks you closer, your chest hitting his. His scent drowns you—smoke, pine, the bitter tang of alpha dominance. "You think a scalpel changes that?" He tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. "Her heat still cries for me. Her body remembers how to beg."

Your breath hitches. Your heat spikes, traitorous, between your legs. Price steps forward, but Zhan Xuan shoves you onto the table, leaning over you, palms braced on either side of your hips. "Tell him to leave, Omega." His mouth grazes your ear, teeth nipping your lobe. "Or I'll remind you exactly who makes you scream—right here, where he can watch."