Rayan left the penthouse the next morning.
No guards followed him.
No Kael.
Just a scarf around his neck, a keycard in his pocket, and a heartbeat that wouldn't slow down.
The air in the upper district felt too clean. Too bright. His steps were cautious. Every corner, every noise made him twitch. But he kept walking.
Because the only way to stop being afraid was to test the fear.
He just didn't expect to run into her.
"Rayan?"
He turned.
The voice was familiar. Sharp. Beautiful. Dangerous.
Elora.
His mother's younger sister.
An Omega who had thrived under the system that broke him. Gorgeous, adored, influential in Omega society. She was the woman who used to hold his chin between her fingers and whisper, "You'll never be anything if you don't obey."
She hadn't changed.
Still immaculate.
Still venom wrapped in silk.
"Well, look at you," she said, stepping forward with a slow, assessing gaze. "I didn't think Kael Riven would let you out of his golden tower."
Rayan stiffened. "You know about that?"
Elora smiled without warmth. "Darling, everyone knows. The little broken heir kept under Alpha lock and key. It's quite the tragic story."
Rayan's jaw clenched. "I'm not your problem anymore."
"Oh no," she said softly. "You're much worse. You're unclaimed and walking around like you belong here."
Her words sliced through the air.
"You still haven't registered your heat pattern, have you?" she continued. "You're technically a rogue Omega. That's illegal in three districts. You think Kael's influence can protect you forever?"
Rayan didn't answer.
Because deep down… he wasn't sure.
"You should come home," Elora said, brushing a nonexistent thread off his scarf. "Your father still has resources. You're still his blood. You're wasting yourself on some dangerous Alpha's obsession—"
Rayan stepped back.
Her smile faded.
He looked her straight in the eye and said, coldly:
"I would rather die in Kael's arms than live another day under yours."
He turned and walked away.
And didn't stop.
Didn't look back.
But he could feel her glare burning into his spine.
That night, Rayan returned to the penthouse.
Kael was reading.
He didn't ask questions.
Didn't press.
But his eyes softened when he saw Rayan's expression.
"I saw someone," Rayan said quietly. "From the past."
Kael set his book down.
"Aunt Elora."
Kael's shoulders tensed. He didn't hide it well.
"What did she say?"
Rayan hesitated.
Then looked Kael in the eye.
"She reminded me that I'm not safe. Not really. Not anywhere."
A long silence stretched between them.
Then Kael asked, cautiously:
"Did she scare you more than I do?"
Rayan didn't blink.
"Yes."
Kael said nothing at first.
But there was something raw in the way he looked at Rayan then—like a flame carefully banked.
And then, so quietly Rayan almost missed it:
"Then I'll destroy her too."
Rayan's eyes widened.
Kael's voice didn't shake.
"I swore I wouldn't kill again. For you. But if she lays a finger on you—if she even threatens your freedom—she'll never breathe again."
Rayan didn't know whether to scream or cry.
So he just said:
"Please don't. Not unless I ask."
Kael looked at him.
And finally nodded.
"Okay."
That night, Rayan lay in bed and stared at the ceiling.
He wasn't afraid of Kael in that moment.
He was afraid of himself.
Because when Elora had grabbed his wrist, when she'd spoken about control and registration and obedience—
The first thing that came to his mind wasn't running to the authorities.
It was Kael.
And part of him was relieved Kael would've killed her without question.
What did that make him?
The next day, Rayan woke to silence.
But not the peaceful kind.
The kind that stretched like a blade just before it cut.
Kael wasn't in the penthouse.
Neither was his scarf.
That scared him more than he wanted to admit.
There was a message waiting on the screen beside the breakfast table.
Just two lines.
"Elora wasn't alone.
She brought your mother with her."
Rayan's hands went ice cold.
He hadn't heard that name in years.
Hadn't spoken it aloud since he was fifteen.
She didn't deserve the word mother.
He remembered the last time they spoke.
He'd been restrained in a clinic chair, screaming through a heat he didn't consent to.
She'd stood behind the observation glass, dressed in her ceremonial Omega robes, whispering to the head researcher:
"Don't sedate him this time. I want him to feel what happens when an Omega forgets his place."
Rayan threw up in the sink.
Later, Kael returned.
Rayan didn't ask where he'd gone.
But Kael's knuckles were bruised.
And his expression was darker than usual—tight around the jaw, like he'd tasted poison and wanted more.
"She's here," Kael confirmed quietly. "Your mother. She's staying in Sector Eleven under diplomatic immunity. I can't touch her."
Rayan blinked. "Can't?"
Kael gave a faint smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"…Not legally."
They sat in the library.
Neither spoke for a while.
Then Rayan said, barely above a whisper:
"She wants to take me back."
Kael didn't ask how he knew.
"She'll try to say she owns me. That I'm her blood, her property. She'll offer money. Influence. Maybe even a public reconciliation stunt."
Kael looked at him.
Rayan added, bitter: "She won't scream or slap me. She'll just smile while signing contracts."
And that's when Kael said the words that made Rayan stop breathing:
"I'll kill her if you ask."
No hesitation.
No tremble in his voice.
Rayan's stomach twisted.
"Kael—"
"I won't do it without your word," Kael said calmly. "But I'm already preparing. In case she moves first."
He paused.
Then added:
"She won't put you back in a lab. Or in a cage. Or behind a lie. Not while I'm breathing."
Rayan stared at the floor for a long time.
He could feel his old panic rising, clawing at his ribs. That familiar, helpless terror when someone more powerful entered the room and reminded him: You were made, not born. And you will serve.
But then he looked up.
At Kael.
And for once, his panic didn't scream.
Because even though Kael was terrifying…
He was terrifying for him.
That night, Rayan dreamed of cold floors and silent needles again.
But this time, Kael was there—smashing through the mirrored observation wall with bare hands, eyes wild, dragging him out like a feral god.
And when Rayan woke, gasping—
Kael was at his side.
Just sitting there.
Watching.
Waiting.
Offering no lies, no softness, no apologies.
Only one truth:
"If she touches you, she dies."