Yu Jun stood near the base of the staircase, jaw clenched, fingers twitching at his side.
He'd had enough.
The party buzzed around him, laughter, clinking glasses, and warm lights. He should've felt at ease—these were his people, wolves from allied packs, familiar faces. But he didn't. The air felt too sweet, too loud. Every breath made him itch.
"I'm leaving," he muttered, already heading toward the stairs that led to the second floor.
He didn't belong here—not in someone else's memory-filled home, not surrounded by balloons and birthday banners.
Then it hit him.
That scent.
Faint. Elusive. Familiar.
The same one from the hotel.
His boots froze mid-step, body jerking as if yanked by an invisible chain. His breath caught halfway in his chest, stuck behind ribs that suddenly felt too tight.
He stood still—utterly still, like a predator on the edge of a kill, every muscle drawn taut. His hands curled into fists, his nails biting into his palm. Inside him, the lycan stirred, snarling with want, with hunger, with unbearable need.
Mate.
No. No, this wasn't happening.
Then the air shifted.
And he turned—slowly, like the earth itself had commanded him—and his eyes found him.
Standing at the top of the stairs, bathed in warm light from the chandelier, was a boy. Slender frame. Soft black hair that curled slightly at the ends. Pale skin and a face too delicate for this brutal world.
And his eyes—
A shade of blue so clear it punched straight through Yu Jun's soul.
His body vibrated, every nerve screaming, every instinct clawing at the inside of his chest. He locked his jaw so tightly he heard it crack. His breathing turned shallow, fast. The urge to move—to take, to claim—washed over him in a flood.
Control. You need to control it.
He dug his boots into the floor to ground himself, trying to remain still. His vision flickered at the edges, black and red threatening to bleed through.
This wasn't just a wolf reaction. This was his lycan rising—the part of him he hated. The one he'd buried for years. The one that didn't understand kindness or patience.
But Ye Jun… the moment he saw him, something inside him whispered:
Mine.
---
Ye Jun – The Burn
Ye Jun stared down the stairs.
Everything else blurred.
The lights softened into a glow. The voices of his friends faded into whispers. The whole world narrowed to him—the man standing at the bottom, looking up at him like he'd stepped out of a war.
Dark eyes, so deep they pulled at Ye Jun's soul like a tide.
Ye Jun felt seen, completely and utterly. As if the man wasn't just looking at him—but through him, into every piece he had ever tried to hide.
His lips parted—he didn't even know why. A name? A question?
But then—
Pain.
It struck like lightning, sharp and deep. Right through his ribs.
"Ah—!"
He dropped to one knee.
The next wave was worse.
A searing heat burned through his core, clawing its way through his insides like fire eating dry grass. His bones didn't snap, but they ached—as if something ancient was trying to wake inside him.
"Ye Jun!"
Jin's voice was far away.
His hands clutched at his sides. His skin felt too tight. His breath came in short, panicked bursts.
He'd never felt pain like this. Not during training. Not during illness. This wasn't just physical—it was raw, violent, like something inside him was breaking open.
He couldn't hear.
He couldn't speak.
His world was fire and a pair of eyes—those dark, wild eyes that had found him and unraveled something sacred.
And in that burning chaos, only one thing was clear:
Everything had changed.
– Bound by Flame
"Ye Jun!"
Ari's voice cracked the air as her son screamed again, writhing on the floor at the top of the stairs.
"Move!" Hana was already charging up the steps, shoving aside anyone in her way.
But no one could get near him.
Every time someone reached for Ye Jun—he screamed.
It wasn't the sound of fear. It was something else. Something that tore through the room, slicing straight into the hearts of those who heard it. Raw. Helpless. Agonized.
Ryung tried to steady his trembling form, but the moment his hand brushed Ye Jun's shoulder, a choked scream ripped from the boy's lips like he was being branded.
"Don't touch him!" Jin snapped, panic flooding his voice. "He's in pain—he's—he's shifting—?"
"No," Hana whispered, wide-eyed. "There's no sound."
Not a single bone crack. No distortion of limbs. No fur. No shifting of the spine or the curling of claws.
Just screaming.
And fire in his veins.
"What's happening to him?" Ari asked, her voice barely holding steady.
Downstairs, Someone had turned the music off. The laughter, the chatter—gone. All eyes fixed on the scene unfolding above and their alpha.
But none of them were more still than Yu Jun.
He hadn't moved since Ye Jun fell.
His face was blank—but his body shook, like a storm contained in skin and bone.
His eyes were locked on the trembling boy above him. He could see every detail now—pale lips, clenched fists, pain in every line of his body. But more than that, he felt it.
The agony. The fear.
It pulsed in Yu Jun's chest like his own.
When hanjae reached again, fingers grazing Ye Jun's wrist, Yu Jun's lips curled back in a slow, dangerous snarl.
He growled.
A low, guttural sound that reverberated across the room.
Hyeon-u, standing nearby, moved immediately.
He grabbed Yu Jun's arm and hissed quietly, "Alpha, control yourself!"
Yu Jun didn't answer.
His breathing was sharp, his knuckles white. A tremor ran down his spine, and his eyes flared briefly—not gold. Not silver. Something older. Hungrier.
He wanted to move. To rip hanjae hand away. To shield that broken-looking boy with his own body. Not out of kindness. Not out of sense.
But out of claim.
They were touching what was his.
"Alpha," Hyeon-u said again, this time pressing him back a step. "Don't."
Yu Jun blinked, and in that second, clarity returned just long enough for him to remain still.
The lycan inside him raged.
---
Upstairs
"Sweetheart, please," Ari whispered, kneeling close but not touching.
"Don't—touch—me—!" Ye Jun choked out, eyes wide, brimming with pain and something more terrifying: confusion.
He didn't know what was happening.
He wasn't shifting. His wolf wasn't even stirring.
But his ribs felt like they were being split open from the inside, like something was crawling, trying to awaken. His veins burned, his heart thundered like it might tear itself free.
He was drowning in heat. In pressure. In energy that didn't belong to him.
"I—I can't breathe—" he whispered, voice raw.
Ryung knelt beside him, resisting the instinct to touch. "We're here, Ye Jun. We're right here."
Jin looked up, eyes locking with Hana's. "This isn't normal."
"No," Hana murmured. "It's something else. Something…."
Ye Jun's scream came again—shorter this time, hoarse.
But beneath it, something new stirred in his eyes.
Fear.
Not of others.
But of himself.
He couldn't bear the pain any longer—his vision blurred, his breath hitched, and then everything went dark as Ye Jun collapsed into unconsciousness.