Debt of Honor

The executioner's blade had already fallen.

Three years, four months, and seventeen days ago, Lee Eun-woo had knelt in the mud outside the palace gates, forbidden from entering, forbidden from speaking, forbidden from doing anything but watching as his family's name was erased from history.

Traitors, they'd called them.

Conspirators against the throne.

His father. His mother. His two older brothers—both alphas, both warriors who'd served the kingdom faithfully for decades.

All dead.

And Eun-woo had survived only because he was an omega. Because the law deemed omegas too weak, too inconsequential to participate in treason. Because the investigating general had looked at his slight frame and scholarly robes and deemed him harmless.

General Kang Woo-jin.

The name burned in Eun-woo's chest like hot iron.

Now, standing in the receiving hall of his rebuilt family home—smaller than before, humbler, but his—Eun-woo watched that same general kneel before him.

The mighty alpha who'd led armies.

The war hero whose name made enemies flee.

Kneeling.

"The evidence was false."

Woo-jin's voice was rough, like stones grinding together. He kept his head bowed, dark hair falling forward to obscure his face. Even kneeling, he was massive—broad shoulders straining against his plain gray hanbok, hands like weapons resting on his thighs.

He smelled like pine forests after rain. Like steel and leather and something darker underneath—an alpha scent so potent that Eun-woo's omega instincts stirred despite his hatred.

Dangerous, his hindbrain whispered. Strong. Protect.

Eun-woo crushed the thought mercilessly.

"I know," he said. His voice came out steady. Cold. Three years of grief had burned away everything soft in him. "The Minister of War confessed before his execution last month. The letters were forged. The witnesses were bribed. My family died for a crime they never committed."

Woo-jin's hands clenched against his thighs. "I should have investigated more thoroughly. I should have questioned—"

"You should have done many things, Janggun-nim." The honorific dripped with venom. "But you didn't. You saw the evidence, you made your report, and you moved on to your next campaign while my father's head rotted on a spike."

A shudder ran through the alpha's massive frame.

Good.

Eun-woo circled him slowly, silk robes whispering against the wooden floor. He'd dressed deliberately for this meeting—white mourning robes that made his pale skin look almost translucent, his dark hair pulled back in a simple scholar's knot. He looked fragile. Delicate.

He looked like prey.

But the predator was the one on his knees.

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