Chapter Text
They had spent days —nights— locked away from the world, tangled between instinct and fire, binding themselves to Bora in a way that no court, no government, no hero agency could ever sever. It was dangerous. Reckless. Exactly what they wanted.
Now, the world demanded their return.
The city's skyline was broken and bleeding, black smoke twisting into the blue like the fingers of a corpse. Another villain attack —a minor one this time, but no less urgent. Civilians screamed from trapped cars, buildings groaned under their own weight. It was chaos.
Wolf and Dami answered without hesitation.
Siyeon threw a hand forward, ice rushing out in a gleaming, frozen river, sealing a collapsing structure in place. Her breath puffed visibly in the warm air as she moved, her body a storm of controlled precision.
Yubin, meanwhile, was a blur of raw power, lifting debris with casual ease, her enhanced strength turning mountains into pebbles. She roared orders at the trapped survivors, guiding them to safety, her very presence a shield against panic.
Somewhere, faraway from the mess, Bora watched. Hidden for now. Keeping her promise. She couldn’t be seen, not yet. Not until the time was right.
But she would protect what was hers. Even if it meant letting the world burn.
As Siyeon and Yubin fought for the innocent, a storm darker than any villain attack was already brewing —a shadow from Bora’s past— stalking closer with every heartbeat.
Their happiness had an expiration date. And it was counting down, fast.
The omega's den was hidden outside the battered city, stitched into the underground tunnels where light barely reached. A place made for someone like her, someone caught between worlds.
Bora lay sprawled on the worn-out mattress of the bed, a thin sheet clinging to her body. The last echoes of her heat still pulsed weakly in her blood, leaving her body heavy, aching, and sated in a way that made her chest tighten whenever she thought too hard about it.
Their scents lingered here —Siyeon’s sharp frost, Yubin’s crackling strength— woven into the walls, soaked into her skin. They had been here. They had chosen her.
But now… now they were out there. Heroes. Saviors. And Bora... she was still a villain.
She turned onto her side with a grimace, eyes half-lidded, watching the way the dim light caught the scars on her palms —scars born from a lifetime of igniting everything she touched. She wondered, bitterly, if she’d leave burn marks on them too.
The days blurred. Sometimes, between missions, they found her.
A soft knock against the steel door, once. Siyeon, slipping inside like a ghost, carrying a bag of supplies —food, medicine, something stitched with care into her frozen fingers. She never stayed long. A cold hand brushing Bora’s cheek, a fleeting kiss to her temple. No words.
Another time, Yubin arrived instead —bleeding from a shallow cut across her shoulder, still buzzing with adrenaline. She didn’t say anything either. Just dropped onto the mattress, hauling Bora into her arms like she was something precious and fragile. They lay there, tangled together, Yubin’s heartbeat a thunderous drum against Bora’s ear until duty called her away again.
Each visit was a crack in Bora’s armor. Each departure ripped it wider.
They had mated. Their bodies, their souls, bonded. But the world wasn’t built for this kind of love. It demanded sides. It demanded blood. And it was starting to tear Bora appart.
Bora pressed her face into the pillow, breathing in the last traces of them, her heart thrumming with something between longing and dread.
Outside, Siyeon and Yubin fought for the world. Down here, Bora fought for the pieces of herself they left behind after every visit.
And somewhere beyond the crumbling city, a shadow sharpened its claws, ready to drag her back into the darkness she recently escaped.
Bora healed. Slowly, stubbornly, the way she did everything.
When she could finally walk without the weakness pulling at her bones, she resumed the life she had crafted before them —the life of a shadow. The den was only the first. The city, in all its rotting glory, had dozens of places only she knew: crumbling subway stations, abandoned rooftops, forgotten apartments hidden behind fake storefronts.
Each night, she moved. Each night, she made herself harder to find. Except to them.
Siyeon and Yubin knew where to look.
The routine wove itself like muscle memory between them. No calls, no messages, only signals —faint and private. A shard of ice left in a storm drain. A scorched wall near an alley. Symbols written in a language only the three of them understood.
Bora would slip through the city’s cracks, hair tucked beneath a hood, face half-lost in smoke and neon, to meet them.
Sometimes it was Siyeon first —standing stiffly against the cold wind, arms crossed, looking every bit the unbreakable hero the world worshipped, until Bora was close enough for her to exhale, to soften.
Sometimes it was Yubin —leaning casually against rusted metal, her power bottled tight inside her, slightly, tall frame. Her eyes lighting up the second they landed on Bora.
The meetings were never long. Half an hour, an hour, even two hours if they were lucky.
A shared meal in silence. A heated kiss stolen behind a crumbling pillar. A quickie, bodies pressed against freezing concrete, breathless promises exchanged in the dark.
And every time they parted, it was with the silent understanding that this life —this half-life— was all they could have for now.
But somehow… it was enough. For now it had to be enough.
The months slipped by in this fragile dance. The world outside roared louder: new villains, new disasters, the relentless grind of heroism and villainy chewing up everything in its path.
But inside their stolen moments, they made a world of their own. A world stitched together with stolen touches, with promises that didn’t need to be spoken.
Bora knew it couldn’t last forever. They all did.
But until the storm finally broke… they chose this.
They chose each other.
It was stupid, reckless. But for once, they didn’t leave when the sky started to lighten.
Bora woke tangled between them, the faint gray of dawn spilling through the broken windows of an abandoned high-rise. Siyeon’s arm was wrapped loosely around her waist, cold even in sleep. Yubin’s steady heartbeat thudded against Bora’s back, strong and grounding.
For a few precious hours, it was easy to believe they were just people. Not heroes. Not villains. Not doomed.
Bora shifted carefully, turning just enough to see their faces. Siyeon’s mouth was parted slightly, her usually sharp features softened by sleep. Yubin’s brows were furrowed even in rest, her instinct to protect too deeply ingrained to ever fully fade.
A warmth burned under Bora’s skin, dangerous, reckless, but so alive.
But reality had never been kind to her. And it wouldn’t start now.
When the sun rose fully, the city below called for its heroes.
Siyeon stirred first, pressing a chaste kiss to Bora’s temple, cold lips lingering longer than they should have. Yubin followed, squeezing Bora’s hand tightly before pulling away, the absence of her touch leaving a cold ache.
No goodbyes. They never said goodbye.
Just a look. A promise. Soon.
Bora waited until their silhouettes were swallowed by the light, then pulled up her hood and vanished into the city.
She should have known the morning was too soft to last.
The meeting was pure accident —or fate, depending on how cruel the world wanted to be.
An alleyway shortcut, the stink of the city rising with the morning heat —and then him, stepping out of the shadows like a viper uncoiling.
Bora froze.
Her mentor hadn’t changed. Tall, imposing, his hair flecked with silver now, but his eyes —those eyes— were the same sharp, merciless ones that had forged her.
For a long, brittle second, neither of them spoke.
Then his face twisted —in anger, in disgust— as his gaze dropped to her neck. The two marks stood out clearly against her skin: one on each side, darkened and raw from where Siyeon’s ice-cold teeth and Yubin’s brutal strength had claimed her.
Bora barely had time to react before the scents hit him —their scents. A clash of winter storms and thunderous power, soaked deep into her very sense.
His hands clenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms.
“You reek of them,” he growled, voice low and dangerous. “Heroes,” he spat the word like venom. “You’ve let them pollute you.”
Bora stayed still. Her instincts screamed at her to move, to fight, to run —but she held his gaze, chin lifting slightly in defiance.
His lip curled. “I raised you better than this,” he sneered. “I made you perfect. And now you’re nothing but a broken, mutt bitch wagging your tail for them.”
The old fear gnawed at her belly, cold and hungry —but it didn’t own her anymore. Not completely.
“You don’t own me,” Bora said, voice rough but steady.
The mentor’s expression darkened. “You were mine,” he hissed. “You are mine. And I will tear them from you piece by piece until you remember who you really are.”
The next second, he was gone —back into the shadows— but the threat hung in the air like a noose.
Bora stood alone in the alley, pulse hammering against her ribs, the ghost of their marks burning hotter against her throat.
The storm was coming. And this time, it would be personal.
Bora didn’t go back to a safehouses that night. She didn’t leave a signal. She didn’t reach out to Siyeon or Yubin.
They would feel the distance. They would know something was wrong. But by the time they found her, it would be too late.
It had to be.
Bora moved like a ghost through the city, her body running on instinct, fueled by a burning determination that hollowed her out with every step. The marks on her neck throbbed, her palms itched with the urge to explode something —anything— to drown the gnawing fear clawing up her spine.
She knew where he’d be. Her mentor was many things, but subtle wasn’t one of them. He’d chosen his lair carefully, a gutted theater on the outskirts of the city, abandoned after some long-forgotten tragedy, its hollowed halls perfect for staging a final act.
Bora slipped through the broken doors, the stench of rot and dust wrapping around her like a second skin.
And he was waiting. Of course he was.
Sitting lazily on the edge of the ruined stage, his eyes gleaming in the dark, a wolf waiting for his stray cub to come crawling back.
“You came,” he said, voice rich with satisfaction. “I knew you would. Loyalty was the only thing they couldn’t burn out of you.”
Bora said nothing.
Her hands curled into fists at her sides, the faint, sharp scent of nitroglycerin rising in the stale air.
He laughed, a low, ugly sound that scraped against her nerves. “Did you think you could run from what you are?” he taunted. “You’re no hero, little SuA. You’re a weapon. My weapon.”
Bora exhaled slowl, controlled. The fire building beneath her skin begged to be unleashed, but she held it back, not yet. She needed to be smart. She needed to do it on the right time. She needed to end this fast, before Siyeon and Yubin could find her, before she could ruin everything.
“I’m not yours,” Bora said, voice sharp and steady. “Not anymore.”
His smile sharpened, a predator scenting blood. “We’ll see.”
And then he moved, faster than she remembered, a blur of savage, brutal training aimed straight at her weak spots.
Bora met him head-on.
The theater erupted into chaos —blasts of fire tearing through rotting wood, smoke billowing thick into the rafters, ice from old sprinkler systems melting and hissing in the heat.
Bora fought like a woman possessed —every blow, every explosion, every dodge a silent scream that she was herself now, not the thing he had molded.
But deep down, she knew… She wasn’t fighting to survive. She was fighting to buy time.
Because even as she unleashed everything she had, even as she pushed herself past her limits, a tiny, treacherous part of her whispered: If I die here… they’ll be safe.
The fight should have stayed in the dark.
Bora detonated a blast against her mentor’s side, throwing him backward through the theater wall. Dust and debris exploded outward, revealing the dying city skyline beyond.
He just laughed —a ragged, wild sound— as he wiped blood from his mouth. “You always were good at making a mess,” he rasped. “Let’s show them what you really are.”
And then, the others came.
From the smoke and ruin, three figures emerged. Faces Bora recognized immediately —old comrades, old monsters— villains she had trained beside, fought beside, bled beside.
They smiled at her like jackals.
“Bora,” one of them —a wiry woman with knives for fingers— purred mockingly. “We missed you.”
The three of them moved in sync, driving Bora back through the wreckage, forcing her out into the open streets where the city had just started to wake.
Civilians screamed, scattering. Sirens began to wail.
Bora fought like a cornered animal —her palms lighting up with furious explosions, carving fire through the morning haze. She moved with desperation, raw and ragged, but even she couldn’t keep up. Not against three trained killers who knew her every weakness.
Every hit, every blow, chipped away at her strength.
This is fine, she thought numbly. As long as they’re safe. As long as they're...
Siyeon woke with a jolt, the sheets cold against her skin, the space beside her empty. The mark on her neck —the bond she shared with Bora— throbbed.
Wrong. Something was wrong.
She threw on her uniform without thinking, sending an urgent pulse through their bond.
Across the city, Yubin froze mid-patrol, feeling it too —the bond screaming, pulling at her gut.
They didn’t even have to call each other, within minutes they were racing toward the last known point of Bora’s signal —only to find silence.
And smoke rising in the distance.
Without hesitation, they pushed toward the chaos.
Bora hit the pavement hard, tasting blood in her mouth. One of the villains —a brute with reinforced arms— grabbed her by the collar and slammed her against a crumbling wall.
Her body screamed in protest, her energy reserves almost dry.
“You look tired, SuA,” he sneered.
The third villain slashed at her side —knives cutting shallow, cruel lines into her skin. Bora’s explosions were smaller now, desperate bursts that barely kept them at bay. She was tired, drained and everyone knew that.
Above them, news helicopters hovered, cameras focused on the battle.
The world was watching.
And all they would see was her, the villain, the traitor, the broken thing that has fought against the city’s protectors one too many times.
Exactly as her mentor planned.
He stepped forward, watching her fall to one knee, his smile wolfish and triumphant. “You don’t belong with them,” he said softly, so only she could hear. “They’ll never forgive you for this.”
Bora gritted her teeth, forcing herself up, swaying unsteadily. “I don’t need their forgiveness.”
She just needed to survive long enough to make sure they didn’t get dragged down with her.
Even if it meant dying alone.
Something snapped.
Siyeon and Yubin both felt it, a sharp, searing pull under their skin, a sensation that stole their breath and drove them to their knees for half a heartbeat.
The bond.
Whatever careful balance they had kept —whatever leash they had placed on their connection to Bora— it shattered under the weight of her agony.
Images flooded them —flashes of broken concrete, fire, blood. And her. Bora.
Yubin was already moving, faster than before, her stockpiled power blasting her across the city in a streak of light and force. Siyeon followed, the air around her dropping to freezing temperatures, frost racing along the pavement as she passed.
They didn’t need directions. They could feel her calling for them, screaming through the shattered bond.
And then, every screen in the city, lit up.
News drones. Live surveillance footages. Emergency broadcasts.
Everywhere, all at once, the people saw it. The villains. The chaos. And in the middle of it, a figure, small but defiant, bloodied but unbroken.
Bora.
Their mate.
Bora felt the bond change, felt something primal tear through the thread that connected her to Siyeon and Yubin. Her alphas.
Good.
She needed them to stay away. She needed them to be safe.
She forced herself upright, swaying, blood dripping from a dozen cuts. The villains circled her like wolves, her mentor at the center, watching, waiting.
Bora knew what she had to do.
Her palms itched, sweat pouring freely now, nitroglycerin heavy and potent. She gathered it, let it coat her hands, her arms, her shoulders, until her entire body was slick with it.
Her breathing slowed. Her heartbeat pounded a steady war drum inside her ribs.
She had never pushed herself this far before. Had never dared.
Because the blast she was building now wasn’t just an explosion. It was a detonation... a sacrifice.
Big enough to wipe them out. Big enough to end her too.
The edges of her vision went white as the energy built, the charge saturating the air until even the villains hesitated, sensing the change, the imminent catastrophe.
Her mentor’s grin faltered. Good, Bora thought. Be afraid.
She smiled, blood staining her teeth.
And just as she was about to ignite...
Siyeon and Yubin arrived.
Not though a door. Not though a gate.
They smashed through a building wall, a thunderclap of force and ice heralding their arrival, the air screaming as it bent around their unleashed power.
Siyeon’s skin shimmered with frost, her eyes glowing an unholy blue, steam rising from every inch of her body. Yubin crackled with raw energy, the sheer weight of her strength warping the ground beneath her feet, hair flying wild as she bared her teeth.
They saw Bora —saw her on the verge of obliterating herself— and something inside them snapped again. A silent, ancient thing that knew no mercy.
The moment Siyeon and Yubin saw Bora about to ignite, they stopped thinking.
There was no strategy. No caution. No hero’s restraint.
Only instinct, ancient, violent, undeniable.
Ours.
Yubin moved first.
A deafening BOOM shattered the air as she slammed into the closest villain, sending the brute hurtling through two concrete walls like a missile, the ground cratering beneath his body.
Before the others could even turn, Siyeon struck, a wave of pure, biting cold exploding outward from her body. The nitroglycerin sweat coating Bora froze solid in an instant, locking the imminent detonation in a crystal shell.
Bora gasped, collapsing forward —the energy draining from her— but before she could hit the ground, Yubin was there, catching her with terrifying gentleness.
Bora’s blood smeared across Yubin’s arms as she cradled her, growling low in her throat, a sound so full of fury and possession that even the bravest of the villains hesitated.
“You,” Yubin snarled, eyes blazing as she looked at the ones who had dared touch her mate, “are already dead.”
Without waiting, she launched herself forward —Bora clutched protectively in one arm— and shattered the second villain’s ribs with a single devastating kick, the impact echoing down the street like thunder.
Siyeon followed, precise and deadly, spikes of ice ripping through the air, trapping limbs, pinning bodies to crumbling walls.
There was no mercy. No speeches. No second chances.
Only the ruthless, brutal truth: You do not touch what belongs to us.
Her mentor tried to run —tried to slip away into the chaos— but Siyeon was faster, a shard of black ice slamming through his thigh and pinning him to the ground.
He screamed, cursing them, cursing Bora.
Yubin set Bora gently down against a wall, her hands shaking, torn between chasing down the rest and checking every inch of their mate for more critical wounds.
“Bora,” Yubin rasped, voice raw. “Stay awake. Stay with us.”
Bora blinked up at them, dazed, blood running down the side of her face. She opened her mouth —maybe to argue, maybe to apologize— but Siyeon was already there, dropping to her knees beside her, cold hands cradling Bora’s bruised cheeks.
“You’re ours,” Siyeon said fiercely, voice low and dangerous. “No matter what.”
“You think we’d let you throw yourself away without us?” Yubin added, her voice a brutal snarl. “You think we’d let you die alone?”
Tears welled in Bora’s eyes, hot and unwanted.
Above them, helicopters hovered, cameras capturing every broken, tender, violent second of it.
The top heroes in the world, protecting a villain with a desperation that left no room for doubt.
The whole city watched. The whole world watched. Their fellow heroes watched. Their enemies watched.
And none of it mattered.
Bora belonged to them. And they would burn the whole world down before they let anyone take her away from them.
Bora barely had the strength to stay upright, but she could feel it, the surge of possession radiating from Siyeon and Yubin like a second heartbeat pounding against her skin.
The world around them blurred —sirens, shouting, the thrum of helicopters— but none of it mattered.
Only the bond. Only them.
Yubin leaned down first, her hand tangling in Bora’s hair, tilting her head back, exposing her throat with utterly tenderness.
Her mouth found the healed mating mark —a scar of teeth and fire— and bit down, sharp and sure.
Bora gasped, her body jolting in Yubin’s arms, the rush of the renewed connection slamming through all three of them like a storm.
The bond burned brighter, hotter. No longer hidden, no longer restrained.
Siyeon followed immediately, ice-cold fingers brushing Bora’s other mark, her lips pressing against the bruised skin with a kiss that looked almost gentle... until her teeth sank in.
Possessive. Permanent. Ours.
Bora whimpered, her hands fisting weakly in their uniforms, overwhelmed by the flood of heat and belonging, the overwhelming rightness of being reclaimed, reaffirmed before the eyes of the entire world.
The mating marks glowed faintly under the pressure of their quirks —freezing and burning at once— a living brand that said: She is not yours to touch. She is not yours to take. She is ours.
The police formed a loose circle but didn't move.
Guns stayed holstered. Quirks remained in standby.
Because how do you approach something so feral? How do you tear apart something so visibly, devastatingly real?
Other heroes stood frozen on the sidelines —comrades, mentors, even rivals— watching in stunned silence.
The Heroes Commission operatives, wearing their regulation black suits, whispered furiously into comms, but none dared to step closer.
No one wanted to be the first to cross that invisible line, the line where the top heroes became something else entirely, something ancient and terrifying.
The narrative was shattering right in front of them. Top heroes, bonded not just to each other, but to a villain. Not as a mission. Not as a tactic.
But as mates.
Through the haze of pain and adrenaline, Bora felt the impossible happen: She wasn’t scared.
She wasn’t ashamed.
She had tried to protect them, even if it meant dying. But here they were, tearing the world apart just to keep her alive.
A broken, tired laugh slipped from her throat as she slumped forward, fully into Yubin’s arms, Siyeon pressed impossibly close against her back.
“Idiots,” she whispered, the word wet with tears. With every breath she exhaled a cloud would form. “You’re both idiots…”
“Yours,” Yubin growled into her ear.
“Always,” Siyeon purred against her skin.
And the world, with all its rules and chains, could only watch.
The world held its breath.
No one dared move as Siyeon and Yubin, carrying Bora like a precious, fragile thing, moved through the streets, their every step an act of sheer dominance.
Siyeon’s eyes were ice, glowing with fury and defiance, the coldness she always wore now a weapon. Yubin, beside her, radiated raw strength, her every muscle coiled, ready to snap. Every movement was calculated, controlled, but feral, primal.
They owned the moment.
The police who had surrounded the area stiffened as the trio made their way through them, the officers standing down without a word, too afraid to challenge them. Heroes from all over watched with uncertain eyes, unsure if they were witnessing a breaking of the system, or a shift in it.
Siyeon’s gaze caught one of her fellow heroes. “You think anyone is going to stop us?” she said softly, but it was a promise —and a threat. Her voice was the chill of winter, and no one dared respond.
Bora was unconscious in Yubin’s arms now, her body battered but not broken. Still, her breathing was labored, each inhalation a reminder of how close she had come to losing everything.
None of that mattered. Siyeon and Yubin wouldn’t let her go.
As they passed through the open streets, Siyeon’s icy aura whipped up gusts of wind that sent stray papers and trash flying, while Yubin’s power flared brightly, crackling through the air like a live wire. Together, they were a storm, a force the city could only watch.
No one dared to approach. No one dared to challenged them.
The entire city seemed to fall silent, caught between awe and fear.
Inside the city’s best hospital, Siyeon and Yubin were a blur of action. They carried Bora into the ER, their presence commanding authority, no nurses, no doctors, no medical personnel hesitated to treat their mate.
They were immediately surrounded by doctors, who tried to stabilize Bora and assess her injuries. The entire place felt like a storm, the quiet hum of machines blending with the soft whispers of concern. But Siyeon and Yubin were relentless. Every time a nurse or doctor came close to Bora, they were sharply reminded by Siyeon’s icy glare or Yubin’s low, dangerous growl that Bora was theirs.
They didn’t leave her side for a second.
Siyeon stood near the head of the bed, her hand cool against Bora’s forehead, while Yubin held one of her hands, her grip tight but tender. The only sound in the room was the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor and the soft sound of her breathing, steady and calm despite the chaos outside.
Bora’s body was battered. Bruised. She’d nearly self-destructed, the strain In her body because of her quirk, her energy reserves completely drained from the massive explosion she’d nearly triggered.
The doctors were having a hard time stabilizing her.
But then came the moment when the doctor’s voice shattered the calm.
“Wolf. Dami. There’s something you both need to know.”
The words hit them like a freight train.
“We're not just dealing with the injuries from her fight or the strain of her quirk.” The doctor glanced at them with a mix of professionalism and sympathy, an expression that made Siyeon’s heart stop. “SuA is pregnant. Multiple pups.” The doctor’s voice lowered. “But… it’s a high risk pregnancy. She’s in critical condition. The beating she took, combined with the strain from her quirk, has created complications. The pups might not survive. It's a miracle they're alive now, but all of them are barely there, they're weak.”
Siyeon’s breath caught. Her eyes locked on the doctor, then back to Bora’s fragile, pale face. Yubin’s expression shifted, but she didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Her grip on Bora’s hand tightened.
“You’re saying…?” Yubin’s voice was hoarse.
The doctor nodded gravely. “Because she’s carrying multiple pups and because the stress on her body could be too much. We’re going to monitor her closely, but… the next 24 hours are critical. Both for her and the pups.”
Silence stretched, suffocating the room.
Elsewhere, the Heroes Commission was in full emergency mode. They watched the public footage of Wolf and Dami's violent claim of SuA. There was a flurry of calls, frantic whispers as they debated.
“Do we really want to handle this publicly?” one agent asked, eyes darting over the footage. “This is… unprecedented.”
“Unprecedented?” another agent scoffed. “We can’t ignore this. This was broadcasted to the public, everyone’s seen it. What do we do about SuA?”
“We arrest her,” came the cold reply from one of the higher-ups. “We arrest her now that she’s in custody. No matter the bond. No matter the circumstances.”
“Are you out of your mind?” one of the senior heroes snapped. “This… this isn’t just about fighting villains anymore. We’re talking about heroes who just publicly declared their mate —who happens to be a villain.”
A tense silence filled the room as everyone waited for the next decision to come down.
“We can’t just let them walk away,” the higher-up growled. “This complicates everything. Do you have any idea how this will look? The top two worlds greatest heroes aligning themselves with one of the most dangerous supervillains to ever exist?”
Another agent spoke up, their voice quiet but firm. “And if we try to arrest her while she’s in critical condition? Wolf and Dami won’t let that happen.”
“And do we really want to test them?” a third agent muttered.
The higher-up hesitated, eyes narrowing. “I don’t know what to do with them, but we can't... we can’t let this continue.”
They all fell into a heavy, frustrated silence.
One of the agents suggested something that caused chaos in the room.
“We should consider re-classify SuA.”
Bora lay unconscious in the hospital, her body broken but still fighting. Siyeon’s cold fingers lingered at her neck, tracing the renewed marks. The bond between them was undeniable now. Real. And the whole world had seen that.
And now… the future was hanging in the balance. But they won't hide anymore, hiding put Bora in this situation and they won't let it happen again. As long as they're alive they will protect their omega and their pups.
Siyeon’s voice was soft but fierce. “We won’t let anything happen to you. Not again.”
Yubin leaned down, brushing a kiss to Bora’s forehead. “We’ll fight, no matter what.”
Outside the hospital, the world was watching.
And deep within Siyeon and Yubin, something shifted. They were no longer just fighting to keep their mate alive. They were fighting to claim their future —and nothing, not even the Heroes Commission, could stop them.
The room was bathed in soft, sterile light. Machines beeped steadily, tracking Bora’s heartbeat, her oxygen, every fragile breath she took. Yubin sat by the bed, refusing to move even an inch away from Bora.
Her arms crossed, body tense, her sharp green eyes flickering constantly to the door, to every shadow she saw in the small window.
No one was getting near their mate without getting through her first.
She stroked Bora’s hand absentmindedly, murmuring promises under her breath —low, guttural things that only Bora could hear if she were awake.
“Stay with us,” Yubin whispered. “Stay, darling. We’re not done yet."
Meanwhile, Siyeon was already moving.
The Heroes Commission had tried to control the damage. They had called for a ‘clarification statement’, a way to reassure the public that everything was still fine, that their heroes hadn’t really broken any laws that it was all a big misunderstanding.
They expected a carefully crafted apology. They expected cold professionalism. They expected Wolf to fall in line.
They were fools.
Siyeon stepped up to the podium in full uniform —black and silver trimmed, sharp as a blade. The moment she appeared, the crowd of reporters erupted into a storm of flashes and shouts.
“Hero Wolf! What’s your relationship with the villain SuA?”
“Is it true you protected her from the police?”
“Are you abandoning your duties as a hero-”
Siyeon raised a single hand. The cold pressure that rolled off her was enough to freeze the entire crowd into silence.
Her voice, when she spoke, was calm and deadly clear. “I am here to make one thing perfectly clear.”
She locked eyes with the cameras, with the heroes in the room, with the commission officials who looked ready to faint.
“SuA is not just a villain. She is our mate.” A sharp inhale ran through the crowd like a tremor. “Mine.” Her voice dropped to a growl, low and possessive. “And Dami's. And if you think for a second that you can separate us," she continued, voice cutting like ice shards, “if you think you can come for her, hurt her, take her-”
The air temperature plummeted. Breath crystallized in front of every mouth.
“I will freeze this world to its core.”
Silence.
"You have a choice," Siyeon said, tilting her head, her long silver hair falling like a curtain over one cold eye. “Accept it. Or stand in our way…. but... if you stand in our way.” She smiled then. It was not a kind smile. It was a dangerous one, a promise. “We will make sure that’s the last thing you'll ever do.”
A heavy, crushing silence fell.
No hero, no reporter, no official said a word. The entire world was frozen —held hostage by the raw, merciless power standing before them.
Yubin watched the broadcast from Bora's bedside, one arm curled protectively around the omega's small form, her forehead pressed to the top of her head.
When she heard Siyeon’s words —that feral, brutal honesty— something inside Yubin settled.
Bora stirred weakly in her arms, a faint whimper slipping from her lips.
Yubin kissed her temple and whispered, “You hear that, baby? We’re not hiding. Not anymore. Just like you wanted, we're finally free. And no one will dare come between us.”
The pups inside her —their pups— fought quietly alongside her. All of them have to survive and because of that... they would fight too. For Bora. For their pups. For a future no one could tear away from them.
The Heroes Commission sat in stunned, helpless silence.
There were no easy answers now. No clean escape. Their top heroes had just burned the system down in broad daylight —and the world was waiting. They wanted to see what happened next.
—"Let the world tremble, we have already chosen each other, and there is no power greater than that."