The words die in my throat as he reaches behind him. Without breaking eye contact, he pushes the heavy gym door shut.
Click.
The sound of the lock turning echoes in the sudden silence, loud as a gunshot.
The air in the room shifts instantly. The smell of my own sweat and the rubber mats vanishes, replaced by a sudden, sharp drop in temperature. It’s him. That scent. Cold winter air, bitter ink, and the earthy bite of ginseng. It rolls over me in a heavy wave, thick and suffocatingly dominant, filling the small space until there's nothing else to breathe. My knees give a traitorous wobble, my brain short-circuiting as the bond recognizes the source.Alpha. Mate.
"I would have preferred to have this conversation in the privacy of our apartments," Donghwa says, his voice dropping an octave, smooth and dangerous. He takes another step toward me, his dark eyes tracking a bead of sweat rolling down my neck with terrifying focus. "But since you’re being a brat and ignoring my calls, I suppose we’re going to have it out right here."
I take a step back, my sneakers squeaking against the rubber mat. The sound is too loud in the sudden, pressurized silence of the gym. My back hits the heavy bag I was just abusing, and it swings into me, a dull nudge that feels like a warning.
"Don't," I snarl, raising my wrapped fists. My heart is hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs, half rage, half that treacherous, biological spike of arousal that I want to rip out of my own DNA. "I'm serious, Donghwa. You take one more step, and I'm going to rearrange that expensive face of yours. I’m not playing your twisted little dominance games today."
Donghwa stops. He tilts his head, looking me up and down with that maddeningly calm expression, like he’s deciding which part of me to dismantle first. Then, the corner of his mouth quirks up. A smirk. A sharp, predatory thing that cuts through his stoic mask.
"Who said we were playing?"
I get exactly one second to process the shift in his stance—the way his weight drops, muscles coiling beneath that black coat—before he launches.
He moves with terrifying speed for someone so tall, blurring the space between us. I barely have time to brace before he crashes into me.
"You crazy b—!"
The air leaves my lungs in awhooshas 190 centimeters of solid Alpha slams into me. We go down hard, a tangle of limbs and cursing. I hit the mat back-first, the impact jarring my teeth, but I don't stay down. I’m an Alpha, dammit. I’m not rolling over for this prick.
I roar, twisting my hips and driving a knee up, trying to dislodge him. He grunts, heavy and solid, his forearm pressing down on my throat. I thrash, bucking hard enough to throw him off balance. We roll, knocking into the dumbbell rack. Metal clangs against metal, a deafening crash as a set of ten-poundweights topples to the floor, bouncing dangerously close to our heads.
"Get off me!" I yell, freeing one arm and swinging wild.
My fist connects with his shoulder, hard, but it’s like punching a brick wall. He barely flinches. He grabs my wrist, his grip like a vice, but I’m sweaty and slippery and fueled by pure, humiliated adrenaline. I wrench free, scrambling to my feet.
He’s up just as fast, his coat flaring. I lunge, throwing a hook that he ducks under with annoying grace. He grabs my waist, trying to haul me down again, but I twist, driving my elbow back with everything I have.
Thud.
I catch him right in the ribs. A solid, meaty hit.
Donghwa hisses, his grip loosening for a fraction of a second as the wind gets knocked out of him. He stumbles back a step, eyes narrowing, a flash of genuine irritation breaking through his cool facade.
"Ha!" I gasp, chest heaving, thinking I have the upper hand. "Not so tough now, are y—"
I don't even see it coming. He recovers instantly, ignoring the pain in his side. He steps into my space, using my own momentum against me. He grabs my arm, spins me around, and kicks the back of my knee.
My leg buckles. The world tilts.
"Down," he growls, the command vibrating straight through my spine.
He shoves me forward. I stumble, flailing, until my chest slams into the vinyl of the flat bench press.
"Fuck!"
Before I can push up, a heavy weight crashes onto my back, pinning me flat. Donghwa presses me into the bench, his chest heavy against my spine, trapping me between the leather and his hard body.
I cough, my lungs spasming as I try to suck in air against the unforgiving vinyl of the bench. My sweat makes everything slippery, but Donghwa’s weight is an anchor, pinning me flat. I thrash, my sneakers squeaking uselessly against the rubber floor, but I can’t get leverage.
Then I hear it the distinct, heavyclinkof a metal buckle undoing, followed by the sharphissof leather sliding through loops.
My blood runs cold. I freeze, craning my neck just enough to see him out of the corner of my eye. He’s pulling his belt off. It’s a thick, expensive strip of black leather with a heavy silver buckle that catches the overhead light. He doubles it over in his hand, the leather snapping taut with a crack that echoes like a gunshot in the empty gym.
