Taiga stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, palms braced on the sink, water still dripping down his fingers. His heart pounded too hard, echoing inside his ribcage like a war drum. His phone sat nearby, the screen black but heavy with silence. A part of him hoped it might never light up again.
But he knew it would.
Dante had told Maya.
His secret—his biggest, most closely guarded secret—was now in someone else's hands.
He should've known better than to trust him. Even one night—especially one night—was too much.
"I already told him your secret. He knows you're an Elite Prime Luna now, love," Dante had said on the call. His voice smooth, confident, annoyingly sure of himself like always.
Love.
He had the audacity to say that word.
Taiga's voice cracked sharp in reply, "Why the hell would you tell him that? You weren't meant to let him know we even spoke."
"It's fine, love, don't fret," Dante said, like he hadn't just detonated a bomb. "I didn't tell him we had sex—unless you want me to."
"One, don't call me that," Taiga snapped. His throat tightened. He couldn't breathe properly. "And two, you better keep your mouth shut, 'cause Maya mustn't know about that. 'Cause it would never happen again."
He said it without thinking, but he meant it.
…Right?
There was a beat of silence on the line.
"You definitely don't mean that," Dante said, voice lower now. "You've given me a taste of you and you think I'd just give up just 'cause you said so—"
Click.
Taiga ended the call, jaw clenched, breathing ragged.
He gripped the edge of the sink tighter, knuckles whitening.
"Fucking bastard," he hissed to himself.
Last night wasn't supposed to happen. It was a mistake—a drunken haze that spiraled too far. His plan was simple: get Dante alone, rile him up, maybe a kiss, maybe two. Then go home and tell Maya his ex was a manipulative bastard.
He didn't plan to fall into bed with him.
Didn't plan for it to feel like that.
Didn't plan to enjoy it.
But he did.
And now, he'd cheated on Maya.
He blinked hard, shaking the image out of his mind—Dante's breath on his skin, his voice in his ear, the way his fingers had known exactly what to do.
"God, why did I get so drunk?" he whispered.
The guilt knotted in his chest, heavier by the second. He'd betrayed the one person who saw him. Who really saw him.
Maya.
His phone buzzed on the counter. Taiga's stomach dropped. He already knew who it was.
"Hey baby, you okay? Didn't get a text from you yesterday."
Maya.
Sweet, sincere, trusting Maya.
He couldn't reply. Not now.
Instead, he sat on the cold tile floor, knees drawn to his chest, watching the message sit there like a wound. The weight of last night settled deeper into his bones.
---
Meanwhile, Dante lay sprawled across his bed, staring at his ceiling with an unreadable expression.
"You think I'd just give up…?" he whispered to himself.
Taiga might've hung up, but that didn't mean anything. Not to him. An Enigma always got what he wanted.
And Dante wanted Taiga.
Not just physically.
That would've been easier.
He wanted the connection. The fire. The tension. He wanted to feel that raw energy again—the way Taiga had looked at him like he was both the problem and the solution.
Maya could have all the plans he wanted. He could coordinate and orchestrate and pretend he was in control. But at the end of the day, Dante knew what they all wanted. What they all needed.
He'd tasted it.
He wouldn't let go of it.
Maya would forgive him eventually. He'd have to. Once the three of them were together, truly together, all of this would make sense.
But first, Taiga had to stop running.
And Dante? He had to corner him.
Dante's phone buzzed.
He glanced over at it reluctantly, expecting more chaos from either Maya or Taiga—but the name that flashed across the screen made his jaw tighten.
Father.
He stared at the name for a moment, the air in his room thickening with invisible pressure. Then, with a sigh, he slid his thumb across the screen and answered.
"Dante," came the low, rumbling voice of his father. Always direct. Always cold. "Have you made any progress?"
No hello. No how are you.
Just business, as usual.
Dante pinched the bridge of his nose. "Depends what you mean by progress."
"Don't test me," his father growled. "You know exactly what I mean. Have you found a mate yet? One that fits our bloodline?"
Dante leaned back against his pillows, eyes drifting toward the ceiling. "Not just someone strong. Someone strategic. Someone marketable. Right?"
"You say that like it's a bad thing," his father replied, voice heavy with disdain. "You're not some wandering Alpha. You're an Enigma born of legacy. Power runs through your veins. I didn't claw my way through this world so my son could mate with a pretty face and weak genes."
Dante's jaw twitched.
"I'm working on it," he said evenly.
"Working on it?" The man scoffed. "You're nineteen. When I was your age, I'd already mated your mother and sealed our third business alliance. You're behind."
Dante didn't reply. He didn't need to. The man would just keep talking anyway.
"You need a Luna. A proper one. High ranking. Submissive to your dominance, strong enough to bear real heirs. Children who will inherit our strength, our legacy."
"I know what a Luna is," Dante muttered.
"Then act like it," his father snapped. "Enough of this hesitation. You've had more than enough options. Stop wasting time."
There was a brief silence. Then his father's tone dropped, quiet and cutting.
"You haven't told me the real reason you're dragging this out."
Dante's spine stiffened.
"You've found someone… haven't you?" the man said, voice growing colder with each word. "But it's complicated."
Dante exhaled slowly. "It's not that simple."
"No, it never is with you," his father sneered. "You and your emotions. You and your... sentiment. You're not allowed to fall in love, Dante. You're an Enigma. Act like one."
The line went quiet for a long moment.
Then Dante's voice came low, dangerous. "I found a Luna."
There was a pause on the other end.
"Oh?" his father said. "Then what's the issue?"
"He's not what you'd expect."
"He?"
Dante let the silence hang. He knew that would piss him off.
"You plan to mate a male Luna?" his father said, fury slowly simmering beneath his words.
"I told you he's not weak," Dante cut in. "He's an Elite Prime Luna. Born to fight. Born to survive. And I want him."
"You want him," his father echoed mockingly. "And what about Maya?"
Dante's jaw clenched.
"You think I don't know what you're doing?" his father spat. "Two mates. A polybond. You're entertaining fantasies. That kind of bond is unstable. Dangerous. And it gives the Luna too much power. If they bond with both of you, they become more than a partner. They become a goddamn linchpin."
"I'm not asking for your permission," Dante replied, voice like ice.
"No," his father said, "you're telling me you're about to throw away everything I built for a Luna and a childhood crush."
"I'm telling you," Dante said, "that I found someone stronger than anyone in your pathetic circle of arranged matches. He's everything you wanted. He just doesn't look like you expected."
A beat of silence. Then, surprisingly, his father chuckled.
"That Luna better submit to you, boy. If he doesn't… he'll destroy you."
The call ended.
Dante didn't move for a while.
His hands were cold. His blood was boiling.
He knew the risks. A polybond wasn't just emotionally complex—it was politically dangerous. But what his father didn't understand… was that Dante didn't just want Taiga for power. He wanted him for everything. The fire. The rebellion. The fight.
And he wanted Maya too.
And he would have them both.
No matter what it cost.