Chapter Text
Breathing shouldn’t hurt.
Beomgyu tells himself that, but every breath scrapes like fire. Smoke forces its way down his throat and burns behind his eyes, and for a moment he’s not sure if he’s breathing in air or ash. The world is noise and heat and light. Too much light.
He tries to run.
Instinct pushes his body through the clearing. He doesn’t know where he’s going. There is nowhere to go. The air is red, the ground spits sparks with every step, and the night that should be black is strained orange with flame. He can hear people screaming. He knows those voices, he knows those names. He knows them so well he could match them to faces, but his mind refuses to do so. It’s a mercy he doesn’t understand yet. His body does it for him; muffles everything, turns voices into a blur, like shouting underwater. If he lets the sounds be real, he’ll stop moving, and he can’t afford that – or he will be the one dying.
The attack came with no warning.
One moment there was dinner, smoke from the cooking fire curling into the air, people getting up, stretching, drifting back toward their cabins with stomachs full and smiles on their faces – and in the next moment, shouting. Bodies. Steel. Fire. Warriors pouring into the Sunlight Tribe clearing like they had been waiting just beyond the tree line, silent and patient – and they probably were. It happened so fast that by the time Beomgyu blinked, half the village was already burning.
He stumbles over a fallen beam and catches himself with one hand, hissing. The heat is unbearable. The familiar open center of his home – the fire pit, the long low tables, the racks where they dried herbs in the morning sun – it’s all gone under collapsing roofs and speaks and bodies. In the gaps between flames he can see shapes moving. Dark, fast, lethal. They aren’t his people. He’s seen warriors like that before. Not up close, not like this, but he’s seen them.
The Moonlight warriors.
They’re known in whispers as night hunters, pale leather and dark steel, moving like shadows until they don’t need to be quiet anymore. He remembers catching a glimpse of them once during the trade – it happened once every two moon cycles, when the tribes would meet to exchange dried meat, salves, root bundles and fur. It was always a little bit tense, but always polite, peaceful.
Peaceful.
None of this makes sense.
But Beomgyu can’t let his thoughts wander too much. He needs to focus. There’s no path open out of the clearing. Every way out is blocked by bodies – dead or alive. He tries left, then right, then left again, and every turn ends in a wall of heat or a wall of people. There’s nowhere to run but inside.
With his heart pounding, Beomgyu throws himself towards one of the cabins that hasn’t fully caught fire yet. The door won’t open, locked from the inside. He knocks desperately, but no one answers – it’s either empty or someone is hiding just like he intends to do. He feels sorry if it’s the second option, because he can’t stop now – so he picks up a stone from the ground with shaking hands and slams it into the window. Once, twice. Until the glass gives under the force and there’s enough space for him to pass. He drags himself inside, feeling the sting of a cut open across his arm, but he doesn’t care.
Adrenaline is the only reason he’s still moving.
Beomgyu knows that. He knows his body is already at the edge. His skin is slick with sweat from the heat, and the air inside the cabin is already hot enough to sting his eyes. This isn’t the smartest choice, he knows that as well. But the odds were never in his favor – it’s either die under someone’s blade, or die under someone’s fire. Maybe if he stayed hidden long enough, the smoke would take him before the flames or the blade did. Somehow, that sounded kinder.
He pulls his sleeve up over his nose and mouth, trying to strain the air, and drops low, crawling across the small room. The cabin is simple, like all of them: a main room with a bed frame, a trunk, a table. He’s familiar with the layout. The Omega wedges himself in the narrow, dark space between the bed and a wooden chest, curls his knees in tight, presses his back to the wall and his forehead to his arm. He can feel his pulse in his gums.
The screams outside sound more distant now, swallowed by the walls and the rush of blood in his own head. He squeezes his eyes shut, coughs once against the fabric over his mouth, and then again. He’s shaking, his hands won’t be still.
Stay quiet.
Stay small.
Survive.
The floorboards creak outside the cabin. Beomgyu freezes. The voices are right there, just on the other side of the thin wall. Clear now, not muffled by distance, not swallowed by fire. And these ones are for sure unknown to him.
“Yeonjun. Over here.” He had never heard this voice before. Nor this name. More footsteps in ash. “The glass is broken inward.”
They know. They know he’s here. Beomgyu can feel his own heartbeat clawing up his throat, desperate, breath becoming heavier. He presses his lips shut until they hurt. There’s a thud against the door. Then another. On the third hit, the wood bursts open, crashing inward. For a split second, he thinks the heat got worse. He thinks the fire finally forced its way into the cabin, because the air goes thick, suffocating, with the scent of smoke and burned wood.
Then he realizes it isn’t the fire.
It’s him.
The Alpha who steps into the dark carries a scent of cedarwood and faint smoke, and it hits Beomgyu so hard it feels physical. It floods the room, heavy and hot, coats the back of his tongue, drags over his skin like the aftertaste of smoke. He’s never smelled anything like that before. It feels wrong inside his bones. It feels like danger. His scent clung to the air – like burnt trees, an entire fire in one man.
For a second, fear pins Beomgyu more effectively than any grip could. He forces himself to look up. He can’t see much in the dark, only the suggestion of the alpha in question: broad shoulders, tall frame. What he can definitely see is the eyes. Sharp. Predatory. They catch what little light there is and hold it the way a wild animal does. Not human, not gentle.
“Oh,” the alpha says softly, voice curling in amusement. “Look what we’ve got here.”
Beomgyu’s mouth goes dry. He tries to make his body move – to crawl deeper under the bed, to run for the door, to throw himself at a wall, anything – and nothing answers him. His muscles lock, trembling. His heart is racing so hard it almost hurts and still he can’t look away. Those eyes are smiling. The lips that follow are, too – a slow, sharp curve of perfect teeth in the dark.
“Taehyun,” the alpha calls over his shoulder. “I think we found our omega.”
Before Beomgyu can make sense of those words, his eyes widen and his mind goes blank – because all he can see is the Alpha reaching for him. Hands close around the omega’s wrist and drag him out of his hidden place like he weighs nothing. Long fingers, unyielding. By the time he’s on his feet, shock has snapped and instinct finally surges up.
“Let me go!” he spits, voice raw.
The alpha laughs. It’s not a nice sound.
Beomgyu kicks hard, the harder he can. His heel connects with something solid – a thigh, a hip, he doesn’t know – and the laugh cuts off on a breath. For a heartbeat there’s silence, wide surprised eyes looking at him. Then the alpha’s grin comes back, brighter than before, feral.
“Feisty.” he purrs, pleased.
He yanks Beomgyu up like it’s nothing. The cabin is already filling with smoke, the walls flicker with reflected fire, and in the blink of an eye they are out the shattered doorway and into the open, into heat and noise and ruin. Outside, even in the dark of a moonless night, Beomgyu can see him better.
The alpha is indeed tall. Built like he was carved for war – arms corded, shoulders thick, leather clinging to muscle and smoke clinging to leather. A dark gray fur rests over his shoulders, cut into a sleeveless vest that leaves his arms bare. Between the folds of fur and skin, there’s a glimpse of ink, a mark carved into flesh. A wolf howling under a full moon, the crest of the Moonlight pack, sprawling over the right side of his abdomen and curling toward his ribs. His hair is black and straight, brushing his shoulders, stuck to his temples with sweat and ash, and a pale scar cuts clean through his eyebrow. A mouth too full, lips too pretty for someone who sounds like that.
“Let me go!” Beomgyu snarls, thrashing against the grip with everything he has left once he has his feet planted on the floor again. “Let me go! Let me die in the flames, have mercy, please!”
A pause, and then realization comes into the Alpha’s face. “Oh, little omega…” He says, voice velvet and dangerous at once. “Do you think I’m gonna kill you?”
Beomgyu refuses to answer out loud, instead just glaring up at him with a look of disbelief. The answer is obvious. Of course he thinks that’s his very short-term destiny.
“If I wanted you dead,” the alpha says, leaning in close enough that Beomgyu can feel his breath, “you’d be gone already.” His smile widens, sharp and pleased with himself. “Don’t worry, you are not going to die. You are coming with us.”
For Beomgyu, that sounds worse than death. Because he doesn’t know what that means – being taken. He’s heard stories, always half-whispered at night, when no elders were listening. Prisoners of war. Omegas pulled from ruined clearings. Offered as gifts. Claimed. Broken. He doesn’t know how much of it is true, and he never heard anything specific about the Moonlight prisoners, but he also doesn’t want to find out.
So he twists, sudden and desperate, and for one wild second he manages to slip his wrist through the alpha’s hold. He jerks hard, tears free, and runs. He takes two full steps, the taste of hope barely reaching his mouth, and on the third, something hits him from behind and drives him into the ground.
The impact knocks the air out of him. His cheek slams into dirt, his knees scrape open, and then there’s weight on his back, solid and inescapable, pressing his chest into the earth. He knows who it is before he can even think about fighting again. The scent of cedarwood and smoke all over him again, drowning him.
Warm lips brush his ear, the touch too gentle for the chaos around them. Goosebumps chase down his spine as the voice follows, low, dark, amused. Almost fond. “Lucky you,” the Alpha murmurs, “I like the defiant ones.”
Beomgyu opens his mouth to curse him, but before he can say anything, white bursts behind his eyes. A sharp blow to the side of his head. Not enough to break, just enough to drop him into black.
A second later, everything goes quiet.
🌑 🐺 🌑
When Beomgyu wakes up, it’s not to fire. It’s to motion.
His head aches – a dull, throbbing pressure at his left temple – and something hard is digging into his spine. It takes him a few heartbeats to realize he’s being carried. Arms under his knees and behind his back, chest against someone’s body, the steady rhythm of footsteps jostling him with each step. Leaves brush against his skin from time to time. He can hear branches shifting, dry twigs snapping under boots, the low rustle of movement through undergrowth. No voices, just movement. He keeps his eyes closed a moment longer and listens.
His mouth is dry. Something rough is tied between his teeth, cutting into the corners of his lips. When he tries to move his hands, nothing happens. They’re bound. His ankles, too – he can feel the drag of rope against skin and the uncomfortable tightness in the muscles of his calves. He swallows around the gag and it tastes like dirt and fiber.
All right, he thinks. Not dead yet.
He opens his eyes. The alpha holding him isn’t the same one from before. This one is different – he looks younger, though not weak. Firm arms under him, steady gait, nothing strained about the way he carries Beomgyu’s full weight like it’s nothing. His jaw is sharp, defined even in the dim light seeping through the trees. His hair is brown and falls to his ears, lashes long over eyes that are wide, almond-shaped, and alert. There’s a scent on him – sage and oakwood, calm and grounded, like the air after rain. It doesn’t burn, it steadies.
The alpha notices immediately when Beomgyu is awake. His brows lift.
“Yeonjun,” he calls ahead, voice even. “The omega is awake.”
Yeonjun. That name, he recognizes.
Beomgyu bristles. He wants to say that he has a name too, but all that comes out against the gag is a muffled, furious sound. He tries to move and feels rope bite into his wrists. So frustrating.
The young alpha looks down at him, then huffs the smallest laugh through his nose. “What a temper this one has.” The comment only proceeds to make Beomgyu angrier.
“He does, right?” The answer comes ahead of them, the voice from the fire – deeper, warmer, edged in smoke. That same lazy amusement. “I’m already growing attached to him.”
Beomgyu snarls against the gag, eyes narrowing. The alpha carrying him just shakes his head. “You’re fucking insane”, he murmurs to the the one in front.
Then the silence takes over again. They keep walking. They’re moving fast – the sky still dark, no hint of sunlight anywhere. How ironic. The omega blinks, letting his eyes adjust to the shadows. He can see more now; this isn’t any part of the forest he knows. They must be far from his tribe now — or what’s left of it. And he also notices they are not alone.
The two Alphas in front – the one carrying him and Yeonjun – are slightly ahead of a larger group. Behind them, Beomgyu can make out the shapes of maybe thirty or more warriors. All alphas, by the size of their bodies and the way they move, heavy and sure. All armed. And he isn’t the only one being taken. To his right, just a few paces over, another alpha walks with his hand wrapped around someone’s bond arm. The prisoner there is tall, built like an Alpha himself. Familiar shoulders, familiar jaw. Heeseung. Beomgyu grew up with him, he was once the next leader of their pack.
Heeseung’s face is tight, unreadable, but when their eyes meet, something flickers. He can see fire in there. Anger, it’s Beomgyu’s first thought. Maybe rage. There’s no way to know exactly.
On his left, another warrior keeps a steady hold on a third figure. Slimmer frame, calmer posture. Sunghoon. Older than Beomgyu by a little, a beta whose hands were always steady and whose voice was always quiet. Sunghoon looks forward, unflinching, expression smooth as still water. It shouldn’t be comforting. Somehow it is.
Beomgyu lets out another muffled noise, something angry, insisting. The alpha carrying him glances down again. He can see Yeonjun slowing his pace, just enough to look back over his shoulder without stopping.
“What is it, Taehyun?” he asks, unimpressed. “Does he want to say something? Let him.”
Oh, then that’s the name of the young alpha holding him. Taehyun.
“I don’t think untying him is a good idea...” The brunette says, hesitating – and earning a furious glare from Beomgyu.
“Come on, if he decides to scream, who’s going to hear him out here?” Yeonjun says, facing ahead again and shrugging. He has a solid point, Beomgyu must admit. “We’re almost home anyway.”
Almost home. The words make Beomgyu’s stomach lurch. Almost home means they’ve already crossed the border. Means he’s totally lost. Means Moonlight and a territory he never even thought about exploring. He does the math quickly. He remembers fire, pain and then… nothing. The sky above is still pitch black. There’s no way they could’ve walked that far and the night still look the same. Which can only mean one thing: he wasn’t blacked out for just one night, but an entire day as well.
Beomgyu makes an indignant sound in his throat and kicks his bound feet. Taehyun exhales like he’s suffering – and he probably is.
“Fine.” Taehyun mutters, defeated.
Carefully – like he’s done this before and knows exactly how far he can trust a stranger not to bite him – the young alpha tugs the gag loose and drops it to the ground. Air hits Beomgyu’s mouth like a blessing. He coughs once, twice, jaw aching, then lifts his chin.
“I can walk,” he snaps. His voice is hoarse, rough from smoke and restraint, but steady. “You can put me down.” Taehyun blinks at him, not moving one muscle. The omega rolls his eyes. “What do you think I’m gonna do? Run? I’ve tried this before. You’d catch me before I could reach any further than one meter. I’m not stupid. I just prefer walking on my own feet.”
The alpha arches his eyebrows, impressed – he can’t tell if he thinks Beomgyu is brave or just incredibly foolish. Maybe a bit of both. Even so, he glances at Yeonjun, waiting for instructions. The older male finally stops in his tracks with a sigh. He turns, running his eyes over Beomgyu from head to toe, examining every inch of him. The predatory gaze strips him bare; for a split second, the omega feels naked. The corner of the commander’s mouth lifts, with hints of satisfaction and amusement.
“Let him walk,” he finally says, after what feels like forever.
Taehyun sighs, but he cuts the binding at Beomgyu’s ankles with a small knife anyway, then helps him to his feet. His hands stay tied in front of him, but for now, he decides to let this battle go – no need to push his luck.
They start moving again, and Beomgyu notices they are not just moving through woods anymore. The trees are thinning. The ground underfoot is packed tighter, worn by passage. The air smells different – colder, cleaner. Organized. There’s a faint trace on the breeze that doesn’t belong to smoke or cedar or ash. Something sharp and still, like pine after rain. But there’s no signs of rain.
Ahead, the trees open. The clearing spreads out in front of them like a basin of light. For one heartbeat, Beomgyu forgets to breathe. It looks home – but at the same time, completely different.
Cabins circle the open space in two levels, stairs running up the outside, balconies lined with drying cloth and rope. In the center of the clearing, a great fire burns, lighting up the night. There’s meat roasting over it, something big, an animal he can’t quite make his eyes focus on from this distance. Behind the fire, at the far end of the clearing, there’s a larger structure of heavy timber, probably used by the council and their leader.
The wood here is darker. The leather stretched over roofs is thicker, more weathered. Tall poles stand driven into the ground around the main fire, each hung with a banner marked with the same symbol as Yeonjun’s tattoo – the shadow of a wolf beneath a full, round moon.
The Moonlight pack.
Dozens of faces turn towards them as they get closer to the center. Elders, children, omegas, betas, alphas. Everyone is watching. The air is thick with tension and triumph. The only sound left is the steady crackle of the main fire. Beomgyu swallows. A few of them bow their heads – not to him, but to the warriors returning home with the weight of a new victory.
Yeojun steps forward.
He rolls his shoulders back, chin high, every inch of him radiating power. Smoke still clings to his skin, to his hair, curling in the air around him like it refuses to leave, even after the miles they’ve walked to get here. The air feels heavier where he stands – hot, charged. There’s something about the way he stands that settles over the crowd like gravity itself. And in that very moment Beomgyu understands why he is the commander. He understands why they trust him to bring victory home. He understands why the other warriors would follow him into fire without hesitation. He understands, because looking at Yeonjun standing there now, he knows that, in different circumstances, he would too.
“It’s done,” Yeonjun calls, voice loud enough to carry. “The traitors are in ashes. And we have no losses!”
A ripple runs through the clearing. Beomgyu can see the pride surging through the crowd, with a mix of relief and excitement. Voices rising at once into cheers and shouts and hands clapping shoulders. People running into warrior’s arms. A celebration. But one word sticks into the omega’s ears: traitors. His mind stutters. He doesn’t understand. His people weren’t traitors. There had been peace. There had been trade every two moon cycles. There had been rules, and they followed each one of them. He scrunches his nose, confused, glancing sideways for some kind of validation from what is left of his pack.
Heeseung’s jaw is clenched tight, his eyes burning with something Beomgyu can’t quite name – he can only see the reflection of the fire in there. Sunghoon stands still and calm, gaze lowered, unreadable, like one would expect from a beta. Neither of them look surprised.
Beomgyu’s thoughts snap back to the present when a sudden silence replaces the loud cheers. As if pulled by a single invisible string, the entire clearing falls quiet at once. The door of the great house at the back opens. The reaction is instant, the crowd parts, heads bow.
The first thing Beomgyu notices is the scent.
Cold pine. White musk. Clean, restrained, quiet as snow. It smelled like pine after rain. It pours through the clearing like a shift in the wind – not hot like Yeonjun, not choking like smoke, but sharp and cold enough to make Beomgyu’s lungs catch. It’s the kind of scent that settles over the skin and makes the body instinctively still.
Then he sees him.
The alpha who steps out of the main house is tall. He’s taller than anyone Beomgyu has ever known. Broader than most of the warriors, long-limbed, powerful. He wears a sleeveless vest made of pale gray fur, open across his bare chest like the other warriors. But there's one striking difference – the head of the animal the fur belongs to rests atop of his own, its muzzle split clean at the jaw so it drapes like a hood over his hair. A wolf’s face without its bite. A real wolf. That means a kill in full shift. That means skill. That screams dominance.
Dark leather clings to his hips and legs, worn and scarred from use. His hair is black, falling just to his jaw, with bangs that nearly brush his eyes. His face is calm, mouth relaxed, gaze steady. Beomgyu doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until his chest aches. He didn’t need a crystal ball to know that he was the Moonlight’s leader.
The alpha crosses the clearing with unhurried strides, offering small, polite smiles and greeting his people as he passes, until he reaches Yeonjun, stopping right in front of his commander.
“Soobin,” Yeonjun bows, politely and respectfully.
Soobin. The name lands in Beomgyu’s ears and stays there.
“Yeonjun,” the other answers. His voice is smooth, calm, the kind that feels like control sharpened into habit. The omega feels like he would obey anything spoken in that tone, if he didn’t have the last bit of self respect. There’s a trace of warmth in it, but something tells him to not expect that often – it’s reserved for a few only, and for some reason, it includes the alpha warrior standing before him.
Their hands meet first – a firm grip at the forearm, wrist to wrist, a kind of greeting Beomgyu hasn’t seen before. Then, in a span of a second, the leader breaks the formality, pulling Yeonjun into a tight embrace, and the crowd erupts into cheers once more. But even with the noises, Beomgyu can’t seem to take his eyes away from the two alphas. When they part, their foreheads meet in a brief, familiar touch – the kind that speaks of years of trust and respect. Both of them wear the faintest, satisfied smiles.
When they separate fully, Soobin’s expression settles back into composure, though there’s a flicker of acknowledgement in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re back and safe, my friend” he says, his tone steady and measured. “You did well out there.” The words are simple, but full of meaning, and Yeonjun accepts them gratefully. The alpha then turns his head and raises his voice, addressing the returning warriors. “All of you did,” he continues. “Tonight, you came home without a single loss. You honored this pack and left the ones who threatened us in ashes.”
The clearing explodes once more. Alphas throw their heads back and howl, deep and raw, voices ripping into the night air like true animals. Others pound their fists against their chests. The sound claws straight down Beomgyu’s spine, leaving every hair of his arms standing. He has never heard anything so raw before. The Moonlight warriors were truly different. He swallows hard.
It’s only then that Soobin finally acknowledges them – the prisoners. Just a flick of his chin is enough. The warriors holding them push forward. Taehyun’s hand returns to Beomgyu’s arm, firm but not hurting, guiding him a step closer. The omega stumbles, then catches himself quickly, lifting his chin out of reflex. He’ll look him in the eyes, it doesn't matter what destiny reserves for him.
Soobin steps closer. From a short distance, he’s even more imposing. The cold pine scent is stronger near him, laced with something clean and quiet that makes Beomgyu’s pulse shift without permission. His inner omega feels like it wants to crawl out of his skin, reacting to such an Alpha standing before him – and he mentally scolds himself for several different reasons. There’s no anger on the Moonlight leader's face. Just watchfulness. He looks at Heeseung first. Up, down, slow. The smaller alpha stares straight back, unflinching. Then Sunghoon. He does the same with the beta, not lingering long. And before he could expect, it was already Beomgyu’s turn.
Soobin’s eyes settle on him, and for a heartbeat, something almost imperceptible shifts. It’s tiny, anyone else might miss it. Beomgyu doesn’t. He’s always been good at watching. The alpha breathes in, and his nostrils flare the slightest bit. His gaze pauses, just one second longer than it did on the others. Beomgyu feels it like a touch. He files it away immediately. But somehow it’s good to know that he’s not the only one affected.
The alpha leader straightens again, expression unreadable, and takes one single step back to stand in front of the three of them with perfect posture. The fire behind him throws a warm light across his shoulders. It makes him look like something carved. When he speaks, his voice carries.
“Do you know why you’re here?”
None of them answer. Beomgyu swallows. His throat is dry – from nervousness, from hours without drinking water or anything at all. His wrists ache against the rope. He doesn't think Soobin actually expects them to speak, and he proves himself right just a second later.
“Every time we put a tribe into ashes,” Soobin says evenly, “we take one of each of its kind – an omega, a beta, an alpha. We believe that’s one of the main keys for Moonlight to survive. We honor what remains; even if you were defeated, your people had value. Knowledge. Skill. We do not waste any of that.” He lets the words hang there in the air. The entire clearing is silent again, every ear turned toward him. “So, I will give you a choice.” Another pause – as the words sink, his eyes move across the three of them. “From this moment on, you may become part of the Moonlight tribe. You will be fed, protected, and taken in as our own. You will live under our law, and you will be one of us. In return, we only ask you to share the knowledge your tribe carried, and you must perform the Oath of Loyalty to this pack.”
Beomgyu’s lungs lock. There’s no need for Soobin to say what happens if they don’t accept his offer – it’s clear as crystal. For a moment, his mind just goes white. He hears the words, but his brain rejects them. Of course he knows what he needs to do to survive – but once an Oath of Loyalty is made, nothing can break it. It’s one of the most sacred things to a wolf, the strongest bond after the mate mark.
Live, something in him begs.
Die with dignity, something else spits back.
If he closes his eyes, he can see it vividly – the Sunlight clearing burning, the people collapsing in orange light, the smell of home turning to smoke. The terror. The way Moonlight warriors moved through their tribe’s heart when nobody had expected it. Because there had been peace. Traitors. The word still rattles in his skull like a stone in a bowl, still echoes in the depth of his mind. It’s a moral dilemma. Could he swear loyalty to the very people who destroyed everything he once knew? Could he live among them as if nothing had ever happened? The answer is too easy – painfully so. He just refuses to admit he could turn his back on the ashes still clinging to his own skin just to save himself. Because truthfully, somewhere deep inside, he’s glad that if someone had the chance to survive, it was him. When he is about to move, something shifts in the corner of his vision.
Heeseung.
The Sunlight alpha, who has always walked like the ground belonged to him, steps forward. Just one pace, just enough to stand out of the line. “I accept your offer.” Heeseung declares, the words sharp and loud in the silence. Sure. Not shaking.
Beomgyu turns to stare at him, shock jolting through him so hard he almost forgets to keep his own feet planted. He never would’ve thought Heeseung would be the first. Never, not him. Not proud, stubborn, once-next-to-be-leader Heeseung, if his dad was not defeated in battle years ago. And yet. It’s then that Beomgyu really looks at the alpha’s face. There’s something there. Not fear, not submission. A flame, hungry burn in his eyes that he’s never seen before. He doesn’t know what it is, he just knows it doesn’t look like surrender.
But before he can think more of it, Sunghoon steps forward, soft and controlled. He doesn’t speak at first; he bows his head, eyes lowered. When he does speak, his voice is even, “I also accept the offer.”
Beomgyu’s chest tightens. Now every gaze is turned to him, and he feels it like a weight on his shoulders. It’s heavy enough to make his knees want to give. He forces them not to. Heat radiates from behind him, thick and smoky, crawling up his spine like fire. In contrast, in front of him, the air is sharp and cold, the promise of rain that will extinguish the flames. He’s suffocating.
“And you, omega?” Soobin says at last, dark eyes driving into him like daggers.
Up close, Soobin’s eyes are even darker. Not cold, exactly. Deep. They don’t waver, don’t flinch. They look like a night lake, no stars on the surface, and Beomgyu has the sudden, absurd thought that if he steps wrong, he’ll fall in and never find the bottom again. He lifts his chin up.
“Beomgyu.” His voice comes out rough.
Soobin’s brow lift, just slightly. “What?”
“My name”, the omega says, forcing each word past the dryness in his mouth. “My name is Beomgyu.”
Something flickers in Soobin’s expression again – tiny, there and gone, like the shift of a blade catching light. He hears Yeonjun’s quiet exhale behind him, he can tell he’s amused. It gives him a brief surge of confidence – it’s now or never. And Beomgyu still has too much left in him to die here. So he takes one step forward. “I, also, accept your offer.” He finally says, and it’s like tension dissolves, the entire clearing exhaling at once. He hears faint sounds of relief around him, but he doesn’t care. His focus stays locked on Soobin, because right now, he’s the only one who matters.
When he speaks next, his voice doesn't shake.
"I swear upon my blood and breath to live by the laws of Moonlight. To cultivate under your moon and rest beneath your flame. To guard what you guard, to bleed when you bleed, and to hold no loyalty above this pack."
He pauses – just for a heartbeat, tasting the bitterness of his own words and the weight of them sinking into his chest. His eyes never leave the ones before him – dark as midnight, endless. He feels like he's already drowning, too far gone to swim away. But he knows what it takes to survive, and the answer for that is standing right in front of him, in the form of the Alpha those eyes belong to. So, when he speaks next, he means every single word.
"From this night until my last, my life belongs to you."