Despite my mood, I crack a smile. “I’m starting to consider all options at this point.”
I rake a hand through my hair, probably making it stick up worse than it already does. The frustration bubbles up in mychest. “It’s been months since I’ve had a good lay. At this point, I’m just angry jerking through my fucking ruts.”
“Gross.” Wooil wrinkles his nose, holding up a hand. “Join a dating app or something. Spare me the details of your tragic sex life.”
“I tried that,” I say, slumping further on the stool. “All the dominant alphas specifically state on their profiles: no alphas. And if I try to message them anyway, they block me before I can even finish typing.”
Wooil laughs, the bastard, actually laughs at my misery. “Damn, I can see why you’re fighting so well lately. Directly channeling all that pent-up frustration.”
He’s not wrong. Last night’s fight was particularly satisfying, even if I did let my opponent get in a few good hits first. There’s something about the pain that helps, that cuts through the constant irritation of being stuck in a body that wants things it can’t have.
I stand, draining the last of the cider and tossing the bottle into Wooil’s recycling bin with a satisfying clink. “Speaking of which, I need to head to the gym.”
I pause as I come around the counter, remembering the duffel bag I’d stashed outside the shop this morning. “Oh, do you mind if I leave some of my stuff here?”
Wooil’s eyes narrow immediately. “Why?”
“Taewoo and his goons sniffed out my new place, so I have to find a new rental.”
“Again?” Wooil sputters, his voice pitching up in disbelief. “Damn, they’re relentless. Are you sure they can’t track you here?”
I wave him off, already heading for the door. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll only leave my stuff here for a day or two. I have enough for a new deposit, I just have to find a place out of the way enough.”
Wooil looks uncertain, chewing on his bottom lip in that way he does when he’s weighing options. His fingers tap against the counter.
Finally, he shrugs. “Whatever. But if they show up here and trash my shop, I’m billing you for damages.”
“Deal,” I say with a grin, pushing open the door. The bell chimes again, cheerful and oblivious.
The gym session leaves me pleasantly sore, muscles singing with that good kind of burn that comes from pushing hard. I grab my duffel and head out into the late afternoon sun, squinting against the brightness as I mentally map out my route.
Going straight back to my apartment would be stupid. Taewoo’s probably got someone watching the place, waiting for me to show up. So I take the long way, cutting through the backstreets and run-down neighborhoods where nobody pays attention to anyone else’s business.
The area gets progressively shittier as I walk, graffiti-tagged buildings giving way to boarded-up storefronts and cracked pavement. Trash skitters across the street in the breeze. A few stray cats eye me from their perches on dumpsters before deciding I’m not worth the effort of running from.
I pull out my lighter, flicking it open and closed as I walk. The metallic click is soothing, something to occupy my hands. My mind wanders back to Wooil’s suggestion about the dating ad, and I find myself mentally composing what that ad would even look like.
Dominant alpha seeking same. Must be strong enough to actually dominate me. Serious inquiries only. No submissives, no betas, no omegas.
Yeah, that would go over well.
Click. Click. Click.
The lighter’s rhythm matches my footsteps as I turn down another alley, this one narrower than the last. The buildingshere are ancient, probably dating back decades, their facades crumbling and—
I stop.
The sound is faint, muffled by distance and walls, but unmistakable. The meaty thud of fists hitting flesh. Grunts of pain. The shuffle of feet on concrete.
My fingers still on the lighter.
It’s none of my business. I should keep walking, get to my apartment, grab my stuff, and get out before Taewoo’s goons circle back. Getting involved in whatever’s happening around the corner would be monumentally stupid.
I back up a few steps, then edge toward the source of the noise.
The alley opens into what looks like it used to be a delivery area for some long-defunct business. Loading dock doors are rusted shut, windows boarded over. The space is enclosed on three sides, secluded and perfect for the kind of business nobody wants witnesses for.
And there’s definitely business happening.
