The wind howled through the high mountain pass, rattling the shutters of the crude wooden cabin. A fire crackled low in the hearth, the only warmth in the dim interior.
Ruo Han sat on a narrow bench, wrists bound with silk cord — not tight enough to hurt, but enough to remind him of the choice taken from him. His fan lay on the table across the room, just out of reach.
Ling Han stood at the window, watching the snowfall with the patience of a man who had no need to hurry.
Ruo Han: "If you want ransom, name your price. If you want me dead, get it over with."
Ling Han didn't turn.
Ling Han: "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't be breathing. And I don't sell what can't be bought."
Ruo Han's frown deepened.
Ruo Han: "Then what do you want?"
Ling Han finally turned, stepping closer until the firelight caught his face — the faint scar under his left eye, the one Ruo Han remembered giving him years ago.
Ling Han: "The same thing I've always wanted. To keep you alive."
The words landed like a stone in Ruo Han's chest.
Ruo Han: "You're lying."
Ling Han's smile was humorless.
Ling Han: "Your Sect isn't what you think it is. And that Alpha you cling to?" — his gaze sharpened — "He can't protect you from what's coming. Not like I can."
Ruo Han's hands tightened around the cord binding his wrists.
Ruo Han: "You don't know anything about him."
Ling Han: "I know more than you want me to. And I know the truth about you — about why your birth was hidden, why your scent was masked for years."
Ruo Han's breath caught, his pulse suddenly loud in his ears.
Ruo Han: "What are you talking about?"
Ling Han leaned in, voice low enough to almost be swallowed by the fire's crackle.
Ling Han: "You're not just any Omega, Ruo Han. You're the last living heir to the Sky Vein bloodline."
The silk cord around his wrists felt suddenly too tight.
Ruo Han: "…That's impossible."
Ling Han: "Then why do you think I've been keeping the vultures away all these years?"