Johan POV

The light filtered through the tall windows in soft beams, warm and golden, glinting off the polished marble floors.

I blinked against it.

My body ached—not in pain, but in that rare kind of soreness that came only from claiming something you’ve wanted for too long. For months, years, in secret, in silence. Fantasies. Delusions, they’d called them.

But last night?

No. Last night made it real.

I turned my head slowly, the weight of the silk sheets shifting across my skin. North was still asleep, or at least feigning it. His lashes were long against his cheek, his lips slightly parted, swollen and red.

There was a new mark on his collarbone—my mark.

A bloom of purple and blue on pale skin. Possession turned into a bruise. And beneath it, a vein throbbed with quiet life.

Still here.
Still mine.

I reached out and let my fingers ghost over his jaw, brushing a damp strand of hair back into place. He didn’t stir. But I felt his breathing shift—just slightly.

Still pretending. Cute.

A faint smirk pulled at my lips. I let him be.

I sat up, stretching my arms out, letting the blanket fall to my waist. The air was still heavy with the scent of skin and sweat and memory. The room was wrecked—lamps knocked over, pillows on the floor, one chair broken near the far wall. The aftermath of chaos. Of need.

Of everything I’d held back for too damn long.

I stood slowly, pulled a robe from the armoire, tying it loosely around my waist. The silk clung to me like a second skin. I walked to the bedside phone, lifting the receiver with one hand while my eyes lingered on North's sleeping form.

“Have the room cleaned,” I said calmly, my voice still a bit rough. “Use discretion. No one touches the bed until I return.”

“Yes, sir,” came the quiet voice on the other end. Efficient, obedient. As it should be.

I hung up.

He shifted behind me now—just a little. A faint sound left him, almost like a sigh. My chest tightened at that.

That sound would echo in my mind all day.

Not the gasps or moans or breathless curses—that sigh.

That surrender.

My lips twitched with the memory. He was fighting less now. Hating it more, maybe. But resisting less.

Which meant I was getting through.

I stepped out into the hallway, the heavy doors closing behind me with a quiet click. The world beyond the bedroom was cool and composed. Gleaming floors, silent corridors, the scent of fresh tea brewing somewhere downstairs.

Tiger and Arthit were already waiting in the study, seated at the long mahogany table with documents spread before them. Arthit glanced up first, his expression unreadable as always. Tiger offered a small nod.

“Morning, Boss,” he said.

“Morning,” I replied, rolling my neck. “Report.”

Tiger cleared his throat and leaned forward.

“There’s been some internal chatter. A few whispers in the Ministry. North’s extended disappearance is being noticed—just barely—but it’s rising. One of the newer agents tried to pull his mission records. Got flagged.”

“Handled?”

“Already intercepted,” Arthit said coolly. “We redirected the inquiry and wiped the access logs. But it won’t buy us forever.”

I exhaled, dragging my fingers through my hair.

“And the outer sectors?”

Tiger nodded. “Stable for now. Most of the rival heads are in check. A few are making noise—trying to test boundaries—but no open defiance. Not yet.”

I stared down at the map they’d laid out.

Territories. Routes. Contacts. Power.

All of it humming beneath my fingertips.

But none of it compared to what I’d left upstairs.

None of it mattered—not really—if I didn’t keep him.

“Double the surveillance,” I said, voice flat. “Anyone who breathes about North gets silenced. Quietly. I don’t want panic, but I won’t tolerate risk.”

Tiger inclined his head. “Understood.”

Arthit leaned back, arms crossed. “What about him? How long do you plan to keep him... isolated?”

I turned my head, locking eyes with him.

“As long as it takes,” I said.

“To do what?”

“To make him stop running,” I replied simply. “To make him see. He was never meant to be a weapon for the Ministry. He was meant to be here—with us.”

Arthit studied me but he said nothing.

Tiger finally nodded. “We’ll tighten the operations. You’ll have your space.”

I pushed the chair back, not bothering to sit.

“Good. Keep me informed.”

With that, I turned on my heel, the silk robe trailing behind me as I walked back through the halls. The house was too quiet again, but I liked it that way.

Let them whisper.

Let them wonder.

The only thing that mattered now… was behind that locked bedroom door.

North had come back to me once.

And next time, he wouldn’t leave.

________________

North POV

The door clicked shut.

Silence.

Not just in the room—but in my mind, like someone had hit pause.

The sheets around me were tangled. The mattress beneath me still warm where Johan had slept. The scent of him was everywhere—cologne, sweat, power. My own skin felt foreign, unfamiliar, marked by the night before.

My body ached. Not painfully—but with the kind of soreness that seeps into bone and memory. My lips were swollen. My throat raw. My chest… tight.

I pulled the blanket over myself, only to throw it off a second later. The silk felt suffocating.

God.

What had I done?

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, wincing as my toes touched the cold floor. The room was a wreck. A shattered lamp. My clothes scattered like evidence. The mirror across the room reflected back someone I didn’t recognize—hair a mess, face flushed, bruises blooming like dark stars down my neck.

I ran a hand through my hair, gripping hard.

What is happening to me?

My head dropped into my hands, elbows digging into my knees.

Everything I’d been trained for—discipline, control, detachment—it was crumbling. Every plan I made to escape, every act of defiance... melted under the weight of last night.

No. It wasn’t just last night.

It was him.

Johan.

And the terrifying part?

It didn’t feel like being broken anymore.

It felt like... surrender.

And that scared me more than any chain, any locked door, any threat.

I stood slowly, wobbling slightly on unsteady legs, and crossed to the window. The curtains were half-drawn. Outside, the world carried on. Sunlight on marble. Guards moving along the outer gates. Nothing had changed. But everything had.

My hands curled into fists.

I had to remember who I was.

I was North.
I was a field agent.
I was a goddamn ghost in the Ministry’s arsenal.

I wasn’t—this. I wasn’t a possession.

But then…

My fingers went to the fresh mark at my throat. Still sore. Still tingling.

I hated it.

I hated that it didn’t disgust me.

I hated that some warped part of me… liked it.

God, what are you becoming?

The door creaked behind me.

I froze.

Footsteps—light, familiar, casual. Not the maids. Not Tiger. Johan.

I didn’t even have to turn. I could feel him. His presence curled around the room like smoke.

And suddenly… I didn’t move.

Didn’t want to move.

There it was again.

That craving.