When Rin stepped out of the interrogation room, the air in the hall hit him differently—thicker, still echoing with the sudden silence that followed his blow. The others were frozen for a beat longer, caught between shock and the adrenaline aftershock of what they'd just witnessed. Kael was the first to shake himself out of it; a muscle in his jaw flexed, and he moved with the efficiency of a man who could not afford hesitation.
He turned to Suri without ceremony. "Get every detail out of him. Use any method you need. Keep him coherent—keep his mouth moving until he has nothing left to say." His voice was flat but absolute, a command that did not invite argument.
Suri's grin was unreadable, a small crease of satisfaction at the work ahead. "Understood," he said. He already had hand on the unconscious man, checking bindings and making arrangements to move him to the next room. The others clustered, exchanging quick orders, the whole building falling into motion like a well-oiled machine. Kael straightened, and without another word, he left the interrogation room, the booted footsteps of his exit sounding like a gavel.
Rin walked briskly down the hall, his expression tight, a faint crease forming between his brows. The air around him felt heavy, tainted. No matter how much he tried to ignore it, Ray's pheromones clung stubbornly to his skin—an intrusive, nauseating scent that made his stomach twist. It wasn't just unpleasant; it was suffocating, like something foreign had invaded his personal space and refused to leave. He pressed his fingers against his wrist, trying to rub away the trace of it, but the bitterness of Ray's pheromones only seemed to sink deeper. Rin had never liked being around the pheromones of others, but this... this was unbearable.
It struck him then how different this reaction was from what he felt around Kael. Even before the temporary mark, Kael's scent had never made him feel sick—it had been grounding, steady, a low hum of strength and heat that seemed to ease the constant ache beneath Rin's ribs. But Ray's scent was the opposite: sharp, unrefined, and invasive. The contrast unsettled him more than he wanted to admit. He hadn't felt this level of disgust in a long time—perhaps because he'd spent so much of his time surrounded by Kael's presence, Kael's control, Kael's scent. That familiar mix of tobacco and leather had become his normal, his safety.
The nausea built with every breath, pushing him into motion. Rin didn't hesitate; he stripped off his clothes the moment he reached his room and walked straight into the shower. The moment the hot water hit his skin, he exhaled shakily, letting the sound drown beneath the hiss of the spray. He scrubbed hard, again and again, as if he could erase Ray's existence along with the pheromones he'd left behind. Only when steam fogged up the mirror and his skin flushed pink did he start to feel like himself again—clean, calm, and faintly surrounded by the fading trace of Kael's scent that still lingered somewhere on him.
Kael reached Rin's door just after the others had filed out of the interrogation wing. The handle gave under his fingers and he stepped inside to the warm hiss of running water; the bathroom door was closed, steam seeping into the room like a living thing. Kael dropped down onto the mattress with the tired, deliberate slump of a man who had pushed every muscle to the edge and found only more resolve.
Anger sat under Kael's skin like a live thing. It wasn't the clean calculation of orders or the professional rage that came from being outmaneuvered—this was narrower, wired into a place he couldn't name. When Ray had spoken—when that bastard had mouthed off about Rin as if he were property—something in Kael had tightened until it throbbed. He had wanted to rip Ray's voice out, to make the man understand the cost of his insolence. He hadn't been able to move then, not without risking everything they needed from the man. The restraint tasted metallic in his mouth.
He thought of Rin under the hot water and found the idea of anyone touching him—anyone thinking of him as a thing to bargain with—unbearable. It didn't fit into Kael's usual maps of territory and loyalty; the irritation had an edge that felt like ownership, and ownership was not a word he used lightly. He sat very still on the bed and let that feeling refine itself into a vow: he would keep Rin safe, come what may.
Kael sat on the edge of Rin's bed, the room's dim lamp sketching muscles and shadow across his hands as he tried to anchor himself. When the shower finally cut out and the bathroom door eased open, Rin stepped out as if the light had dressed him—hair dark and wet, droplets tracking down his temple to glitter and then fall. His skin was faintly flushed from the heat; the pink at his clavicle made him look fragile and incandescent all at once. Kael had seen him like this before, countless times, and each time the sight struck him anew—some dumb, stubborn part of him surprised again by how little Rin belonged to anyone's expectations.
Rin's eyes met Kael's the moment he crossed the threshold, and for a second the world narrowed to the two of them. Kael felt something loosen, then clench—affection braided with a sharp, territorial edge he couldn't ignore. He was used to reading danger in rooms and reading weakness in people; this was neither. When Rin drew a step closer, Kael froze on a current of instinct he couldn't properly name. The alpha in him tightened like a coiled wire. He smelled it then—the residue of Ray's pheromones still clinging to Rin, sour and invasive, and a heatless rage flared up from his gut. The thought of someone like Ray's smell on Rin, made Kael's calm crack at the edges into something close to murderous.
He stood up without thinking, the movement huge in the small room. Rin tilted his head slightly to meet Kael's height—he had to look up a fraction because Kael was taller—and the simple adjustment of posture made the moment feel intimate in a way neither of them said aloud. Kael didn't answer when Rin asked what was wrong. Instead he leaned in, a motion so quiet it was almost tender, and let his pheromones out in a breath: a low, smoky scent of tobacco and leather that filled the small space and began to push the harsher aroma of Ray away. Rin's face didn't fold with relief so much as relax, the tight line at his mouth easing. Kael pressed his cheek briefly against the hollow of Rin's neck and breathed—steadying himself more than any speech could.
When Kael spoke at last, it was a whisper threaded with something like warning. "That bastard's scent is like rot," he said, low enough that the words landed more as a pulse than a sentence.
Rin lifted his wrist to his face and inhaled, confirming the stubborn presence. "It's still there," he admitted, the honesty small and raw.
Kael's reaction was immediate: a possessive motion to pull Rin closer, to mask and protect him with something warmer, more stable. He hugged him then, not rough but intent, burying his face into Rin's nape and drawing that steady, grounding breath that always seemed to pull at Rin's edges. The alpha's hold was a promise—silent and fierce—that he would not let that rot define the night.
" I should have kill him."
Rin looked up, calm but curious, and asked simply, "Why does it bother you so much?"