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Drugs, guns, whores. Park Jimin has a hand in all of it. He is the lead Alpha of the most vicious pack in all of Korea. If there is a dead body floating in the Han River, Alpha Park could be traced back within six degrees of separation.

He is the known as the Black Wolf, a grim reaper with demon red eyes, and the face of a baby doll. Alpha Park is every bit his namesake, his true form ripped from the pages of Dante’s Inferno, the fifth circle of hell.

Jimin is currently looking around the Pai Gow table, 10 million won buy-in, holding a pair of aces. Other Alphas are eyeing him easily. It is his size. Jimin is small for an Alpha, too dainty, not to be taken seriously. But that is just the man, the Alpha inside is the monster of nightmares.

“Park, your hand?” Hongshu asks.

Jimin inhales, a thin cigarette in between his full lips, tasting of cancer, ash, and smoked wood. He isn't planning on losing tonight, by hook or crook. His white and gold finished Glock sits against his hip, concealed by his Armani suit. It’s a good luck charm.

Jimin lays out his aces and the man frowns.

“Better luck, next time,” the Black Wolf smiles.

“We’ll see next round,” the larger Alpha replies calmly, but his eyes give him away, glowing a bright yellow. His wolf, inside, is angry, furious even.

“Nope,” Jimin says with a pop, “I’m out. Have fun, boys.”

Alpha Park abandons his chair and another takes his place, clockwork. Jimin leaves a rich, well richer, man. He drives off in his ice-white Ford GT with satisfaction. There’s nothing quite like destroying a person who thinks they’re bigger than you.

It’s midway in his route that Jimin realizes, he really needs to take a piss. Being the classy man that he is, he pulls his astronomical car to the side of the road, so he can relieve himself in a dark alleyway, right next to a nearly-full dumpster.

There are expectations of him, but fuck that. He’s not a chaebol heir. His money and power are scraped from the bottom of a grease trap. Alpha Park has no illusions about himself. He isn’t someone high and mighty. He is a thug, not above cutting a man’s finger off, not above whizzing in an alley to mark off his territory.

It’s then that he hears a can fall over, a rustling from the other side. Jimin tucks his massive cock back into his pants and goes to investigate. What could it be? A rabid raccoon? A prom baby? Those dogs from Lady and the Tramp? It isn’t any of those things.

It is a Christmas gift from the devil himself. Thanks, dark lord, thanks.

Jimin has seen corpses with more color. There’s an Omega with platinum blonde hair, bleeding out against the brick wall. He has a black eye, neck and chest full of bites and hickeys. He has the smell of at least six Alphas on him. The man has had a rough night to stay the least. What was his story?

But that would have to wait because - Jimin inhales - his smell, it’s divine. The Omega smells like a thin mint from God’s personal girl scout cookie stash. His scent is so alluring that Park Jimin kneels down to get a better taste. He’s not above it. His wolf is screaming at him to get closer. He wants to press his nose all up on that scent gland, on this Omega, who may or may not be alive.

A gun clicks at his temple.

“Just try it, motherfucker,” a voice sounds, much deeper than expected of a typical Omega.

In his half-dead state, the Omega has managed to disarm Jimin, and place him at gunpoint.

Blood red eyes meet bright blue ones.

The Omega is shaking, frightened, blood dripping down from a cut lip. Jimin, who has dug his share of unmarked graves, can tell that this pale man has never killed anyone before. He is crying, quivering.

“Fuck it all,” he hisses before pointing the gun at himself.

Jimin blames it on the Alpha hormones, or adrenaline, or a mix of both. He, lightning fast, disarms the Omega with a flick of his thumb and finger. Then, he knocks the man out cold with a quick jab to the jawline.

For the first time in his life, the wolf inside, tells him that he’s done something wrong. It’s something he’s never felt, not even when ending a life.

Jimin considers leaving the omega to die, but the ache he feels inside only intensifies. It would be catastrophically wrong. So, Alpha Park gently picks the man up, bridal style and carries him to the car, slipping him into the backseat.

The Omega’s bleeding all over the custom leather. Jimin is conflicted as he speeds down the highway. Why did he take him? Why does he feel this way now? Mercy, sympathy, feelings long dead to the Pack Alpha.

The pale man whimpers, clutching his sides, eyelids fluttering. Jimin presses on the gas. He has to take this Omega home, patch him up. He has to. He doesn’t know why but he has to.

One questionable car ride, and a line of coke later, the Omega is lying on his bed, in his room. Jimin pulls the torn rags from his body. And yes, he looks. But there’s nothing to really look at. The Alpha imagines that the Omega would be really beautiful, if only he wasn’t marked up so badly.

There are angry claw lines along his rib cage. His thighs are a mess, his hands are caked with blood. It makes Jimin want to cry. But that’s weird because there’s very little that makes Jimin want to cry.

Slowly, the Alpha cleans him off, washing the scents away. The Omega is already healing, a little quick for a wolf, which only serves to the truth. This has probably happened before. His body has already adjusted to the abuse.

The Alpha checks the Omega’s scent glands, on the underside of his chin. He’s clean. He’s not marked. Jimin realizes what he has on his hands. He clicks his teeth in disbelief. It’s a rare unmated, albino, male Omega. He could fetch a hundred million won on the market, easy.

Jimin quickly dresses the man, pulling a black t-shirt over him, and a pair of plaid pants. Then he sits in the chair and waits. He looks at the Omega’s face, for two whole hours, as the black eye slowly fades.

The Alpha busies himself with a few cigarettes and a couple of capfuls of whiskey. God that smell, it’s doing crazy things to Jimin’s mind. All he wants to do is touch. But the Alpha in him growls in protest. It’s ungentlemanlike.

“You’re probably thinking that I’ll be grateful,” the Omega says, rousing Jimin from his musings, “But I didn’t ask for your help, so fuck you.”

Heat rises from the bottom of Jimin’s feet all the way to the top of his head. His mind is filled with images of the Omega writhing in pleasure beneath him. He doesn’t know this man. He doesn’t understand why. He just wants it so badly it hurts.

“How about just your name?” Jimin asks, eyes burning. They must be glowing. He can’t even control that. He’s going wild already.

“My name is Fuck You,” the Omega curses.

“How inviting,” Jimin grins.

The next second the Alpha is on him, straddling the stranger in between his strong thighs. His nose is pressed against the Omega’s scent gland, his fangs out.

“I could make you mine and throw you away,” Jimin threatens, “You’d die starving, begging for this cock.”

He feels a claw against his thigh, right along his femoral artery. “You can try.”

Jimin is mad. His wolf wants this more than anything. He wants to make this Omega his. But something is wrong. He doesn’t know what. Ultimately, the Alpha rolls over so that he is flat on his back, by the Omega’s side.

“I won’t,” Jimin sighs, “I’m too much a romantic.”

A joke. At least he hopes it is.

The Omega breathes evenly for a long time, tears gently falling from the sides of his face and dying on the pillow. Jimin wants to reach out, confused as to why it hurts him so much to see the Omega cry. But he doesn’t move. He lays still.

The Omega counts his breathing, from one to ten. The feeling of discomfort grows in Jimin’s chest. All he can imagine is a poor omega child, hiding under a table, counting his breathing. Someone would be throwing dishes, and another would be screaming.

“Yoongi,” he says thickly.

Jimin turns to him, “What?”

“My name is Yoongi.” the Omega clarifies.

What is a name but a hot brand to the mind, a fixation point to the beauty in front of him? The wolf in him guards it as if no other name would ever again matter. It’s alarming, and Jimin realizes he needs to get away.

“Jimin,” the Alpha says, “Park Jimin.”

The Omega takes a shaky breath. He knows. Of course, he does. SBS news has not painted the Alpha in a good light. Anyone would be afraid. But still, Jimin wants the Omega- to not be afraid.

“Are you going to sell me?” Yoongi asks, bright eyes swirling with pain.

“No,” Jimin says as he rolls off the bed and makes towards the door. “Get some rest. You’re going to need it.”

He flips the light off.

Jimin sleeps in the guest bedroom, one door over. Well no actually, he doesn’t sleep. The walls are too thin. He just lays there, wide awake. Every so often, the Omega lets out a whimper, and Jimin has to clutch the sheets to prevent himself from bolting over. Every fiber of his being is telling him to return to the Omega and comfort him.

But why?

It is just a name.

When the sky begins to lighten, Jimin realizes that he has stayed up all night. His chest hurts, and his eyes are bloodshot. The Alpha gets up, showers, runs a comb through his dark locks and gets dressed.

Yoongi is curled up in a fetal position, eyes open, so terrified, when Jimin walks back into his room. God, Jimin just wants to let the man sleep in a week. But that isn’t happening. He needed to establish the ground rules now, no matter how much he hates himself.

“Get up,” Jimin orders.

The man slowly sits up, and glares at Jimin with hateful eyes.

“Get clean, get dressed, and meet me downstairs” the Alpha orders before turning to leave.

“Or what?” the Omega spits.

“Or starve,” Jimin places his ultimatum. He fully admits that he’s a dick. All he wants to do is feed this man. Yoongi look so thin.

Jimin is well into his bacon and eggs when the Omega arrives to the table. But he’s clean and presentable. There’s a plate of food waiting for him. Except, he just sits down and stares at it, not making a move to the knife and fork.

“Eat,” Jimin says sternly.

They have a staring battle for two minutes, but Yoongi finally relents. Begrudgingly, he picks up a fork and takes a mouthful of food. Jimin is secretly relieved but he doesn’t show it. Yoongi keeps looking daggers at him, an arrogant twist in his perfect mouth. He’s proud, beaten, broken but proud.

Jimin feels electricity run down his spine. He imagines very vividly, clearing the table, and taking Yoongi right there. How would it feel to have this beautiful creature submit to him? What would his cries of ecstasy sound like?

“What do you plan to do with me,” Yoongi asks between slow bites. He’s hungry, Jimin can tell. But he’s holding back, too proud to grovel, too proud to scarf down his food.

“You’re my new driver. You see this arm,” Jimin raises his left arm, “You’re going to hang off this arm, or I’m going to kill you.”

Yoongi frowns, as he considers it. He’s actually considering it. Jimin is tense because it’s a bluff. The Alpha has no intention of killing Yoongi, not even if he refuses him. The thought of hurting the Omega makes him sick. But Jimin doesn’t show his apprehension. His face is blank like a doll’s.

“Do I have to fuck you?” Yoongi asks, eyes wide.

Their bodies, all twisted together in pleasure, the Alpha nearly drools.

“Only if you want to,” Jimin says.

The fear in Yoongi’s blue eyes subsides. The water is calm again, “Okay, okay, I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Jimin continues eating.

“Where are we going today?” Yoongi asks as he eats a little more enthusiastically. Jimin is really concerned by how comforting it is to watch.

“Shopping,” Jimin smiles.

Yoongi can drive, really well. He makes it to the shop in record time, beating the traffic. He pulls onto the curb without any adjustments as if he owns a Ford GT of his own.

Jimin steps out onto the pavement, and into the store like he owns the place.

He does, in fact, own the place.

The store attendant, Lisa, flips the open sign to closed, and shoos all the customers out the door. Then she turns to Jimin, bowing low.

“What can I do for you today, Mr. Park?” she asks.

Jimin nods over to Yoongi, “Take his measurements. Fix him up nice.”

If Yoongi is impressed or amused, he doesn’t show it. His face is straight. His eyes are dead. He takes off his shirt so that the woman can get a better number count. And Jimin watches.

The bruising looks worse than yesterday, but only because it’s healing. The open cuts have now turned into dark purple and yellow spots. Jimin imagines hunting down and killing every Alpha who’d harmed Yoongi in any way.

That’s the only way the Alpha can sit through it.

Yoongi watches Jimin watch him, dispassioned face. What is he thinking?

When Lisa is done, Yoongi looks like a different man. He has a cream-colored suit, an expensive Rolex, and leather Jimmy Choos on. The suit really offsets his skin nicely. It has Jimin feeling desperate. If he didn’t know any better, Yoongi could be an Alpha, especially with that disdainful look in his eyes.

“Where to next?” Yoongi asks.

The Pai Gow tournament is still running tonight. There’s always a pregame beforehand. Jimin doesn’t usually show up to that shit. But that was before Yoongi. He wants to go, wants people to see him with that gem on his arm. He wants everyone to know that Yoongi is his. Deeper than that, he wants Yoongi to be safe, and for every man to know that harming the Omega is a death sentence: one that he would carry out.

Such dangerous, confusing feelings.

They arrive to the club in less than an hour. Yoongi takes strange back roads against GPS instructions, and somehow he beats the clock.

Interesting.

The insides of the place are pretty typical: dance floor, bar, pretty for-hire people hanging off Alphas with something to prove. But no one is outshining Yoongi at the moment, all eyes are on him. The Omega scoffs dismissively, ignoring the attention.

“Well,” an Alpha approaches them, “I guess pigs do fly.”

It is Kim Namjoon, Pack Alpha of an adjacent district. Jimin actually likes the Alpha. Namjoon is smart, and charming. He walks on landmine fields like a runway model. But most of all, in this world of rejects and degenerates, the man is fair and loyal.

“How’s the trade?” Jimin smirks at the Alpha.

“Supply and demand,” Joon shrugs, “Speaking of which, who is this gorgeous thing?”

“Why don’t you try and find out, fucker,” Yoongi snaps, red wine in hand suddenly looking like a grenade.

Namjoon chuckles unaffectedly, “Please.” the Alpha tilts his head back, pulling down his shirt. There’s a mark on his scent gland, one that will never heal over.

“Y-You’re mated,” Yoongi stutters.

Jimin can understand the Omega’s surprise. Mated Alphas are rare. They’d have to be absolutely high to let an Omega mark them. All the same rules apply. Separation is death by starvation

Yoongi asks, “What if he leaves you? You’d die. Where is he?”

Jimin laughs.

Joon does too, “My Omega has my mark. I’m bonded. I just sent him on vacation. He’s probably eating with the president of China as we speak.”

My Omega….

Something stirs inside Jimin’s chest, hearing Joon show off his precious mate. Jin is the most spoiled Omega in existence. But it won't be that way forever. Not with Yoongi around.

“That’s fucking crazy,” Yoongi huffs.

Through the Omega’s eyes, he can appreciate how rare a spectacle Namjoon really is.

“Shall we?” Joon sits down at the Pai Gow table.

Jimin takes a seat as well, with Yoongi on his lap. The Omega is tense. Every time Yoongi turns his head towards Jimin’s scent gland, he stops himself. Jimin allows himself a moment to wonder on that before focusing on the game.

They’re midway through the tournament. Jimin is feeling lucky. The Alpha is ready to throw all his chips in, when Wonho raises the stakes. But that’s when Yoongi presses his mouth into Jimin’s ear.

The Alpha feels his cock harden under Yoongi’s ass. It’s schoolboy levels of embarrassing.

“Don’t,” Yoongi hisses.

It turns out that Wonho has a royal flush. He combos out in the first round. How did Yoongi know that?

“You’re full of surprises,” Jimin comments. Yoongi flushes as he turns away.

“I swear,” the Omega hisses, “If you don’t stop it with this hardon. I will kill you.”

Yoongi is already killing Jimin in so many ways.

Wonho winks and takes his earnings, leaving the table. There is not a moment to lose, and another takes his place. Hongshu, made rich from the bodies trade, make poor by one Park Jimin.

“How’s it go-” Hongshu begins, bright hawk eyes full of mirth, when he spots Yoongi, “Well, well, this is a surprise.”

Yoongi’s back goes rigid. He’s suddenly holding onto Jimin’s arm hard. A terrified whimper leaves his throat before he can cover his mouth.

Jimin doesn’t know what’s going. But the wolf inside is already furious.

“Do you know this man, Yoongi?” Jimin asks.

“P-Please,” Yoongi stutterers. It breaks Jimin’s heart, “Don’t let him take me b-back.”

“That Omega is mine,” Hongshu cuts him off, “Thank you for returning him to me. He’s a pretty good fuck. I’ll give ya that.”

Jimin blames it on the Alpha hormones (again). In an eyeblink, he takes his Glock and points it right at Hongshu’s disgustingly handsome face. The Alpha looks like he’s about to shit his pants.

“W-What are you doing?” Hongshu gasps.

The image of Yoongi’s bruised and beaten body runs through Jimin’s mind. He wants to kill this Alpha right now. His finger is itching to pull the trigger. Even with so many eyes watching him, he barely contains himself.

Jimin places the gun down on the table.

“One on one,” Alpha Park says evenly, “Skin only. The old way.”

Some of Hongshu’s color returns to his face. He laughs. “The old way? You want to fight me? For the Omega?”

“I could have just killed you,” Jimin said, “But this is a gentleman’s establishment.”

Hongshu smirks. He’s sizing Jimin up and seeing the difference. Hongshu is twice Jimin’s weight, and he thinks it will save him. But Jimin has destroyed greater men with his own two claws. He has every intention of ending this man now. He wants to savor it, to feel the tactile sensation of victory.

“I’m game,” Hongshu says.

Immediately, the floor clears, Namjoon and the other Alphas back away. Yoongi hops off Jimin and runs to the nearest wall, yipping in fear. His blue eyes are utterly terrified. Jimin wants to rip Hongshu apart.

The larger Alpha circles him, “To be honest Park, I’ve always wanted to punch that pretty face of yours.”

Jimin follows the movement with his eyes. Hongshu attacks, going for the throat, too quick, too early. But most importantly, too predictable. Alpha Park slams his fist into Hongshu’s jaw. He feels something crack underneath his knuckles. It sounds like justice.

Hongshu flies to the left, reeling. It takes him a minute to gain his footing. He grins, bloody mouth, and spits out one of his molars. Beautiful.

Jimin is cool, as Hongshu growls, spit and blood, and rabid fangs. He’s trying to intimidate the smaller Alpha. But Jimin isn’t even flinching. Hongshu rushes in again, his hands just managing to graze Jimin’s cheek before he moves to the side. There’s a line of red. It’s a lucky shot.

But Jimin is done feeling mercy. He steps in low and close, and sends a crushing blow right into Hongshu’s gut. Broken rib, maybe two. The large Alpha steps back like a drunk. He’s dead on his feet, clutching his stomach. He’s crying, growling, feral.

Hongshu lunges one more time, no grace, fangs bared, and Jimin ends him with a kick to the face. The giant sprawls backward and falls with a deafening crash. Alpha Park smirks, steps forward, and presses his Gucci shoes against Hongshu’s throat, right on his windpipe.

Jimin applies the slightest of pressure. Well no, not really.

“I-I submit,” the Alpha gasps, “He’s yours.”

As if Yoongi is anybody’s to give away.

Jimin suddenly stirs from high. Where is Yoongi? Alpha Park scans the room. The Omega is cowering under the Pai Gow table. He’s so scared. It is tragic. Jimin’s decides that he’s had enough.

“Yoongi, let’s go,” Jimin says, stepping over Hongshu.

It is then, with Jimin’s back turned, that Hongshu bursts from the ground, launching a coward’s attack. Alpha Park hears the noise, but he knows he’s too late to defend himself. His mercy had been foolish.

He turns just in time, to hear a gun go off, and bullet plant itself between Hongshu’s eyes.

Jimin looks back at Yoongi. He’s there, on the smoking end, looking dumbfounded, still under the table. The Omega quickly drops Jimin’s Glock and covers his face. He lets out a stream of terrified yelps.

How did he make a shot like that? At such an impossible angle?

Jimin looks around. How many more casualties would there be tonight? The Alpha is ready to kill everyone in the room, to protect Yoongi.

“Hold on,” Joon speaks, hands raised, “That was fair. He attacked you like a coward. He deserved that end. I don’t see any problem here.”

“Anyone else?” Jimin hisses.

Silence.

It is done.

Jimin reaches out for the Omega, whose rocking back and forth. “Yoongi? We’re going home.”

The pale man drops his hands. His bright blue eyes are filled with agony. He looks at Jimin, so lost. But after a minute he slowly moves forward, allowing Jimin to carry him out. The Alpha steps over Hongshu’s cold dead body.

Yoongi slides into the passenger’s seat, clearly in no condition to drive. He tries to calm down, but not like a normal person. He counts his breathing again, from one to ten. At ten, his face is blank. Jimin thinks they’re in the clear. But Yoongi starts sobbing into his hands, crying uncontrollably.

It’d been his first kill.

Jimin has never been so close to losing it, watching Yoongi like this. It’s so painful. The Omega rolls down the window, throwing up the night’s intake. God, Jimin prays, how can he take this man’s pain away.

Yoongi inhales two steadying breaths once he is done, “You should have just killed him to begin with.”

Jimin wishes with all his might that he’d done it. But it’s already too late.

Buyer’s remorse.

“Where to now,” Yoongi frowns. He’s back to ground zero again.

If there was any way to prove his loyalty, Yoongi’d already done it. It had to happen now, tonight.

“You’re meeting the rest of the pack,” Jimin says.