Page 23 of The Omega Accountant

From within the room came sounds of movement, of struggle, of an omega fighting his own biology with the same determinationIbattled mine.Thescent grew stronger, more complex, layers of need and desperation and biological imperative saturating the air until it felt like breathing liquid fire.

Mine, my alpha hindbrain insisted with unwavering certainty.Suffering.Fix.Claim.Mine.

Ours, my human choice countered with newfound clarity.Partnership.Respect.Choice.

The distinction made all the difference asImaintained my vigil outside the door, asIburned for him instead of with him, asIproved through restraint what possession could never demonstrate: that he mattered beyond biology, beyond claim, beyond the primal imperatives neither of us could fully escape.

That the omega who had entered my life through missing millions had become essential in ways that transcended strategic alliance or legal documentation.

That whatever existed between us would be forged through mutual choice, through partnership within possession, through respect that acknowledged vulnerability without exploiting it.

Even if that meant enduring the worst night of biological torment either of us had ever experienced.

Even if that meant standing guard while what was mine suffered behind closed doorsIrefused to breach without invitation.

Even if that meant burning with unanswered need while honoring boundaries biology insisted were irrelevant between alpha and claimed omega.

I would endure.Forhim.Forus.Forwhat might exist beyond this night of fire and restraint.

For the future neither of us had anticipated when paper claiming had set us on this path, but that now seemed like the only one worth fighting for—through biology, through vulnerability, through the fire in our blood neither had chosen but both now endured.

8

MATTEO

The hall outsideLuca'sroom became my prison, every inch of polished marble a borderIcould not cross.Hisscent saturated the air—honey and citrus transformed into something devastating, something that called to the most primal part of me with a siren's destructive promise.

"Go," he had begged, tears streaking down his flushed face. "Pleasego."

I had gone.Notfar enough.Neverfar enough.

I paced the corridor like a caged predator, each turn bringing me back to his door, each breath flooding my system with the molecular evidence of his suffering.Thehoney notes had turned molten, nearly caramelized with heat, the citrus sharpening to something that cut through rational thought like a blade through silk.Beneathit all lay that distinctive undertone—warm rain on stone—now heated to steam that threatened to scald judgment entirely.

Mine, my alpha hindbrain insisted with increasing urgency.Suffering.Needing.Mine.

"Sir."Carlo'svoice penetrated the fog of biological imperative clouding my thoughts. "Themedic team hasn't responded to our calls."

I turned slowly, the movement requiring conscious control over muscles that wanted nothing more than to break down the door behind me. "Whatdo you mean, 'hasn't responded'?"

"Three separate teams, all suddenly unavailable.TheSouzainfluence runs deeper than we anticipated."Carlomaintained a careful distance, his beta status offering immunity from the pheromones now saturating the hallway, but not from my volatile state. "They'veblocked every medical option in the city."

Understanding crystalized with terrible clarity.Thesabotaged suppressants, the compromised security, the medical blockade—all calculated to force a biological claiming where a paper one existed.Toremove choice from both of us.Totransform protection into possession through the cruel manipulation of our own bodies.

A low growl rumbled from my chest, the sound barely human. "Findwhoever did this.Startwith the household staff, then the delivery service.Someonehad access.Someonetouched what's mine."

Carlo nodded once, backing away with the practiced caution of a man who understood the danger of an alpha on the edge of protective rut. "AndMr.Bianchi?Whatdo you want me to do for him?"

The question hung between us, as delicate as a trigger wire.Whatcould be done?Theheat had progressed too far for medical intervention.Theonly biological relief would come through claiming—my teeth breaking skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, my scent merging permanently with his, my body satisfying the need consuming him from within.

The very claiming he had begged me not to initiate when coherent thought still governed his words.

"Cold towels,"Isaid finally, each word emerging with conscious effort. "Water.Electrolytes.Feverreducers, if we have them."Practicalmeasures that would do little against the biological imperative raging through him, but the only assistanceIcould offer without crossing linesIrefused to breach.

Carlo disappeared down the hallway, his footsteps fading beneath the sounds emanating from behind the closed door.Softwhimpers had evolved into desperate moans that stroked something animal in my blood, something that cared nothing for consent or choice, only for the claiming instinct encoded in myDNA.

Mine, it whispered with each tortured sound.Suffering.Fix.Claim.Mine.

I pressed my forehead against the cool wall, focusing on the sensation to ground myself as another wave of his scent washed over me.Myown biology had begun responding beyond conscious control—rut rising in answer to his heat, my scent sharpening with protective aggression, with possessive intent.Thewound in my side throbbed in time with my accelerated pulse, pain providing momentary clarity in a mind increasingly clouded by instinct.

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