By the time lunch rolled around, the whispers weren't whispers anymore. They were loud enough to cut through the clatter of trays and chairs.
"They say Ayan's been scent-marked already."
"No way—look at him. Bet he begged for it."
"Imagine Kairo wasting his time on that."
Ayan sat at the far end of the cafeteria, his food untouched. He could feel the weight of every glance, every mocking laugh.
But he didn't break. His spine stayed straight, his expression cold.
Then Kairo walked in.
And silence fell.
Every head turned to watch as the Alpha strode past tables, past his friends, past the stares, until he stopped directly across from Ayan.
The tension cracked.
"You're making me popular, Omega," Kairo said, voice smooth, careless, but his eyes were sharp. "Should I thank you?"
Ayan finally looked up, meeting his gaze with ice. "Why don't you thank yourself—for being so desperate they think I'd ever allow it."
Gasps cut the air like glass. The whole room leaned in, hanging on the thread between them.
Kairo's jaw ticked, but he smiled—slow, deliberate, cruel. He bent down until his shadow swallowed Ayan whole, his voice meant only for him.
"Careful. Keep running your mouth like that, and one day I won't stop at rumors."
Ayan's fingers curled under the table, tight, but his lips curved into something sharper than defiance. "Promises, promises."
The cafeteria erupted—half in shock, half in thrill.
But beneath the noise, beneath the venom, both of them walked away with the same truth gnawing in their chests.
The rumors were no longer just words.
They were fire.
And fire always burns.
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