Scent of Cedarwood

The taxi's headlights carved weak tunnels through the falling snow.

Min-jun pressed his forehead against the cold window, watching the city lights of Seoul shrink to pinpricks in the rearview mirror. His heart hammered against his ribs like a caged bird—which, he supposed, was exactly what he was.

Had been.

Until tonight.

"Aish, this weather," the driver muttered, hunching over the wheel. "You sure you want to go all the way to Jirisan? The roads up the mountain will be impossible soon."

"I'm sure." Min-jun's voice came out steadier than he felt. "Please. I need to get as far from Seoul as possible."

The driver shot him a look in the mirror—taking in the expensive cashmere coat, the designer luggage, the pale omega face that had graced society pages for years. Park Min-jun, only omega son of Park Industries. The golden boy. The prize.

The property.

Min-jun looked away. He didn't want to see recognition dawn. Didn't want to answer questions about why he was fleeing into the mountains at eleven PM on the night before his mating ceremony.

His phone buzzed again.

Father.

He silenced it without looking. There would be fury. Threats. Promises of what would happen when they found him—and they would find him, eventually. The Park family's reach extended across Korea like a spider's web, and Min-jun had just torn himself free of its center.

But he couldn't go back.

Couldn't walk down that aisle tomorrow and bare his neck to Kang Jae-hyun.

The memory of Jae-hyun's alpha scent made his stomach turn—copper and rotting fruit, wrong in a way Min-jun couldn't explain. Every omega instinct he possessed had screamed danger from the moment they'd met. But his father hadn't cared. The merger between Park Industries and Kang Pharmaceuticals required an heir. Required a claimed omega son. Required Min-jun's body and his freedom and every dream he'd ever had.

You'll learn to love him, his father had said. Omegas always do.

Min-jun's hand drifted to his neck, to the unmarked gland that would have borne Jae-hyun's bite by this time tomorrow.

Never.

He'd die in these mountains before he let that monster claim him.

The snow fell harder.

---

Two hours later, the taxi couldn't go any further.

"I'm sorry, seonsaengnim." The driver gestured helplessly at the wall of white ahead. "The road is blocked. You'll have to walk from here if you want to reach the village."

Min-jun stepped out into the howling wind. The cold hit him like a physical blow, cutting through his coat, his silk shirt, his very bones. He wasn't dressed for this. He'd packed in a panic, grabbing whatever was closest—clothes meant for heated penthouses and climate-controlled c...