William walked calmly up to one of the penthouses of one of the tallest buildings in the city, a location known for its breathtaking views and, even more importantly, for housing his current target.
Brandon Esbart. Son of CEO Jonathan Esbart, who, curiously, had invested a considerable sum of the money the Aballays generously lent him in a public campaign aimed at saving his image after a particularly egregious incident earlier this year.
Everything had gone relatively smoothly, at least on the surface. Jonathan had managed to repair his reputation, which had been left in tatters after the police raided one of his hidden properties and exposed some of his filth to the public. So, logically, he should have had no problem repaying the sum in easy monthly installments. But with his renewed popularity, it seemed his arrogance got the better of him, and he started defaulting, making excuse after excuse.
That, unsurprisingly, didn't sit well with the Aballays.
William liked to think that was the only reason he was going after Brandon. The boy, after all, lived entirely off his father's fortune and contributed nothing to the world except for the occasional awkward appearance at social events. But the truth was a little more personal.
He looked at his wristwatch, which he'd been keeping track of. In thirty seconds, the system would be completely blocked and the alarm neutralized. He only needed Bentral's signal.
So without a word, he pulled up his hood and adjusted a sleek black mask that ended up forming a body-hugging suit with every inch of his body covered. Long sleeves, thick gloves, boots, and pants, all made of a special airtight material that guaranteed it wouldn't leave any trace, not even a scent.
"You may enter," Bentral's voice echoed in his ear through a small communicator.
Without responding, William simply slid the glass door in front of him just enough to let himself in, leaving it ajar behind him in case he needed to.
Killing wasn't on the menu that night, but if Brandon gave him a reason, he wouldn't hesitate. Sometimes, his targets were stupid enough to test his patience or try to outsmart him. But he doubted his current target would force him to do so.
Honestly, he'd previously expected to simply stick to the simplest of his repertoire, with just a few fractures and cuts to send a clear message to his father... but that had changed recently. He slipped through the shadows effortlessly, each step calculated, silent, and cold, walking calmly through the master bedroom until he reached the end of the hallway. He didn't need light to find him, where the parasite he was looking for was.
Brandon. He was the perfect target. He always slept alone; his attempts at charm had long since stopped working in the city's elite circles, especially with his younger brother constantly overshadowing him.
William had ignored the senseless gossip his contacts were telling him. He was there to act, not to chat. Still, he watched the scene with some distaste.
Brandon lay face down on the bed, fully clothed, his limbs carelessly splayed, his feet dangling over the edge.
With an exasperated sigh, the alpha grabbed the cheap tie hanging loose around Brandon's neck, easily flipped him over, and injected a diluted solution into his chest with a syringe. Brandon stirred, coughing as the fog of the drug he'd taken earlier began to dissipate.
Getting the beta to ingest something strong enough to force him to leave one of their outings early had been a piece of cake. It was only as vast as a paid blonde escort and cleavage he couldn't stop staring at with a few smiles, and that was it.
When Brandon regained consciousness, William loosened his tie slightly to let him breathe.
"W-where am I?" Brandon croaked, blinking around the dimly lit room until his gaze settled on the silent figure standing before him. He tensed, his eyes widening as he registered the broad shoulders, the unmistakable masculine posture, which made his pulse quicken and his heartbeat thunder in his ears. "Were we... together? Listen, I don't know what I said or what my friends said about me, but I'm not into... disturbing things with guys. I like women," he stammered, his voice cracking with rising panic, his hands shaking, and his breathing coming in rapid, ragged gasps.
William tilted his head slightly; a flash of amusement flickered in his eyes before fading into the same blankness he always displayed. But he said nothing.
He just waited. Patience was his sharpest weapon, and Brandon couldn't resist filling the silence. As expected, the boy's lips parted again, this time harder, more desperately, but he didn't get the chance to finish.
William yanked on the tie, pulling Brandon forward, and delivered a vicious blow straight to his throat. The blow was brutally precise, causing Brandon's knees to buckle toward his chest as a stifled gasp escaped his lips.
His face flushed violently, the veins popping out along his neck as he struggled to fill his lungs with air. He tried to speak, but only harsh, broken, pathetic fragments emerged.
That's when he finally understood. This wasn't a sexual misunderstanding, this wasn't a cruel prank orchestrated by friends at the party; there would be no hidden audience to applaud and laugh. Just him, and something dangerous in the dark.
Brandon released his beta pheromones, an act born of fear, hoping to intimidate. But when he couldn't, he tried to scream again, but the damage to his vocal cords left only pitiful sobs instead of words.
Tears sprang to his eyes as he looked up, pleading silently.
William watched him with a kind of distant disappointment. He adjusted the restraint and then guided Brandon to the edge of the mattress. With one hand, he pressed a gloved finger against his mouth beneath the mask he wore.
"Don't say a word, Brandon. No begging, no promises, no deals, no explanations... None of this will save you this time," the alpha whispered in a low, calm voice, then leaned in slightly, watching as the beta crumpled, shaking uncontrollably.
Then another blow landed, this time to the stomach. Brandon crumpled with a gasp, his mouth opening wide, but he didn't make a sound.
"You'll only make me angrier... So shut your mouth." The growl that followed the alpha's words was deep, almost inhuman, causing Brandon to clamp his mouth shut, his eyes widen, and his face paled. His breathing stopped abruptly.