Night draped itself over the city like a veil of ink.
By the time Cassian Drakov returned home, the sky had emptied itself of color, leaving only cold starlight and the faint glow of distant towers. His residence stood silent and grand, an estate built for power, not comfort. Even the walls knew who ruled here.
He removed his coat with practiced precision, handing it to a servant who bowed and disappeared without a sound. No unnecessary words. No wasted breath. Everything in Cassian's world moved according to his will.
He walked through the long corridor toward his private study. The marble floor reflected his figure — tall, composed, untouchable. Yet beneath that still surface, something stirred, faint and unfamiliar.
He sat at his desk.
Documents awaited him. Contracts, reports, financial statements — the lifeblood of his empire. He worked through them efficiently, pen gliding across paper, fingers tapping on a tablet, eyes scanning data faster than most could comprehend. Midnight passed without him noticing.
Outside, the wind pressed against the windows. Inside, only the ticking of an expensive clock kept time.
At last, Cassian set the final file aside. He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for just a moment.
And immediately, he saw him.
Blonde hair tied back. A slender neck. The faint glint of sharp defiance.
But most of all—
Those eyes.
Sky-colored. Clear. Unafraid.
Cassian's brows furrowed slightly. He did not like distractions. He did not like mysteries. And he certainly did not like someone who dared to meet his gaze without trembling.
Yet the image would not leave.
The omega who stepped forward when everyone else had collapsed.
The omega who injected him without hesitation.
The omega who called him "old man" and walked away untouched.
Cassian opened his eyes.
Annoyance flickered in his chest — quickly suppressed. He stood, unbuttoned his shirt cuffs, and left the study. His bedroom awaited, vast and dark, designed like everything else in his life: controlled, orderly, cold.
He prepared for bed in silence. No hesitation, no wasted movement. When he finally lay down, the silk sheets cool against his skin, he closed his eyes again.
But once more, the same face appeared.
Those sky-colored eyes staring straight into his eyes.
A slow breath left Cassian's nose. Not frustration. Not anger.
Something sharper.
More dangerous.
His lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile.
"Next," he murmured into the darkness, voice low and certain, "it's your turn."
The room fell silent.
And Cassian Drakov slept.
Morning came without softness.
Sunlight filtered through the tall glass windows of Cassian Drakov's bedroom, but warmth never reached him. He rose before the servants entered, already dressed in composure and control. Whatever had stirred in him the night before was buried deep beneath his usual indifference.
By the time he sat at his office desk, the city was fully awake — and so was the machine of his empire.
Elena entered precisely at eight. She placed a tablet before him, then waited.
Cassian did not look up.
"Elena."
"Yes, Master."
"I want information," he said. His voice was steady, but there was an edge beneath it. "About the blonde omega from the banquet. Name. Origin. Residence. Every detail. I want him in front of me."
Elena's eyes flickered for only a fraction of a second — surprise — then she bowed.
"As you command."
Cassian finally lifted his gaze. Cold. Absolute.
"And Elena," he added, tone lowering, "his turn has come."
She understood instantly. No further explanation was needed. She turned and left to execute the order.
Two days passed.
Two days in which Cassian's patience thinned like a blade honed against stone.
He attended meetings. Signed contracts. Controlled markets. Made men tremble with a single glance. Yet beneath every action, a quiet irritation simmered. No omega had ever escaped his reach. No person had ever dared to touch him and vanish into the air.
By the third evening, Elena entered his office again.
Her steps were slower this time. Cautious.
She placed a file on his desk.
Cassian opened it.
And found… nothing.
No identity.
No registered scent.
No residence.
No family records.
A ghost.
The only line written clearly:
"Seen accompanying Kane Arlov — Beta, son of the Arlov family. Listed as his partner at the banquet."
Silence filled the office.
Cassian's fingers curled slightly around the edge of the file.
Elena spoke carefully. "We searched every city registry. No omega matching his description exists in official records. The only trace is his attendance under Kane Arlov's invitation."
Cassian's eyes lifted. Slowly. Dangerously.
"You're telling me," he said, voice quiet enough to chill bone, "that my intelligence network cannot find a mere omega."
Elena lowered her head. "We will continue searching—"
"No."
Cassian stood.
The air in the room changed instantly. His alpha pheromones rolled out like a gathering storm. Even Elena, trained to withstand pressure, felt her breath tighten.
"You had two days," Cassian said, stepping forward. "Two days, and all you bring me is the name of a beta escort."
Elena did not tremble, but her fists tightened at her sides.
Cassian's voice dropped further. "Useless."
The word landed heavier than any strike.
Elena bowed deeply. "Punish me as you see fit. But I will find him."
Cassian turned away, walking to the window. The city lights below glittered like prey beneath a predator's gaze.
"A mere omega dared to stand before me," he said slowly. "Dared to touch me. Dared to leave without permission."
His reflection in the glass smiled faintly. Not with warmth. With promise.
"No one hides from Cassian Drakov."
Behind him, Elena waited silently.
Cassian turned back, eyes sharp.
"Bring me Kane Arlov."
"Yes, Master."
"And Elena?"
"Yes?"
Cassian's tone was soft — the most dangerous kind of softness.
"Next time, do not return empty-handed."
Elena bowed and left at once.
When the door closed, Cassian remained standing alone in his office, the city sprawling at his feet.
Somewhere out there was a blonde omega with sky-colored eyes who had walked away from him once.
Cassian's lips curved into a slow, cold smile.
"Run while you can," he murmured. "Because when I find you…"
The sentence remained unfinished.
But the promise was clear.
And thus, the hunt began.