Kapitel 79: Cycles of Reflection, 79.

Mason felt the silence of the vast mansion was disturbing, echoing and breaking only by his solitary footsteps. He walked through the luxurious corridors, looking into empty rooms and recalling the moments he had shared with Can-Bey Wilson, an alpha who bought, conquered, and broke his heart. A broken heart, another disappointment, and now finally the ultimate decision: if now, he had to face his final decision: surrender to the authorities and renounce his failed second life.

He could no longer lament the past; it was time to face the consequences of his actions. He had to perform his own rain ritual; he had to seek and ask the gods for his redemption rain!

After brief moments of reflection, Mason returned to the private refuge of his room and turned on his computer, his digital sanctuary, where he felt alive and powerful. His fingers flew across the keyboard, typing complex and elegant codes that illuminated the screen like stars in the sky. His eyes shone with the same intensity, reflecting the codes he had mastered with skill. Mason, a notorious hacker, knew how to exploit the vulnerability of the mansion that he once thought could be the backdrop for his castle of happiness.

With his eyes fixed on the screen, Mason accessed the property's security program. With impressive dexterity, he manipulated the algorithms, creating a false alarm that would make the guards run to a specific area of the mansion. It was the perfect distraction.

Amidst the chaos he had created, an uncontrollable wave of fury took over Mason. Running down the stairs, he could no longer contain the storm of emotions. His feet, trained by constant parkour practice, touched the ground with agility, each movement an extension of his anger.

He wanted to write a letter and use the most beautiful words he possessed—cliche words. But he wanted to finish by saying that he wished Can-Bey would go to hell and that his toy wouldn't rise when he kissed another mouth. Yes, he had resentments. In his last act, real and personal, Mason was willing to leave behind coldness, rebellion, and sparks, with an iconic and definitive touch. His message was unforgettable!

Arriving at Can-Bey's opulent private vehicle museum, Mason entered an unparalleled luxury environment. The living room was meticulously decorated, with cars strategically positioned like works of art, highlighting every curve and detail. Soft lighting enhanced the grandeur of the rare vehicles, transforming the space into an automotive sanctuary.

Mason headed to a particular motorcycle, a vehicle that represented a sentimental link to the past of the man who had broken his heart. For Can-Bey, that motorcycle was a trophy, but for Mason, it became a symbol of the pride Can-Bey held and that he now wanted to destroy.

The motorcycle was an exclusive relic, one of seven units manufactured, which had belonged to Can-Bey's grandfather. With a firm bat in hand, Mason unleashed furious attacks, channeling his pain into the destruction of the polished machine.

The piercing sound of metal breaking, the distinctive smell of gasoline permeating the air, the sensation of the bat vibrating in his hands—all of this fueled Mason's adrenaline. Although the motorcycle was a precious piece of family heritage, he ruthlessly turned it into a pile of scrap. In his manifestation of discontent.

With the motorcycle now in ruins, Mason hurriedly climbed the stairs, fury still pulsing through his veins. At the mansion's peak, he unleashed a powerful virus, corrupting every layer of the security system. Confirmation of success came with the shrill sound of alarms echoing throughout the mansion.

From that moment on, Parker became his ally again. Mason, guided by years of practice, began his escape across the rooftops, jumping from obstacle to obstacle. He escaped the reality that imprisoned him, listening to the wind whisper in his ears, contemplating the dark sky, absorbing the aroma of the gardens below, and feeling the concrete beneath his feet. Parkour was his art and his expression of freedom. He leaped like a cat, with grace and precision, leaving behind the wreckage of his revenge.

"Mason, after a dizzying escape across the rooftops, found refuge in a simple hotel on the outskirts of the city. Upon entering the room, he collapsed on the bed, feeling the exhaustion and the weight of destiny on his shoulders. He stretched his hands and felt every sore muscle, a physical reminder of the chaos he had unleashed. His tense body was a reflection of the tension permeating his existence. A sad smile broke on his lips as he silently contemplated the inevitable: he would spend the remaining years in a dark CIA cell or face an even darker fate. Tears escaped from his eyes, and his heart burned—a flame he never imagined would burn so intensely."

Elsewhere, on a sophisticated and competitive dance floor…

Aster, immersed and enveloped in the magical atmosphere of the dance floor, slid elegantly across the hall. His technical nature, initially resistant to the fluidity of the moment, gradually succumbed to the irresistible melody enveloping the environment. The music, like a silk thread, wove itself between the two bodies, moving harmoniously.

His heart, normally attuned to rationality and logic, now beats in time with the smooth cadence of the song. A genuine smile adorned his lips, and the magic of the dance momentarily pushed away any remnants of his pragmatic nature. It was not just about the alpha in front of him but about the dance as a sublime expression, a language that transcended the technical and became poetry in the movements.

For a brief moment, Aster allowed himself to dive into the fantasy of the moment, breaking free from the shackles of reason. The alpha beside him became not just a dance partner but a companion in a unique choreography where gestures spoke louder than words.

In this strange romantic triangle, Aster found himself lost in the nuances of romantic tension permeating the air. Far from being a mere act of social representation, it became an engaging narrative, a story of desire and attraction floating between the two like a subtle dance of feelings.

More than an actor rehearsing a new role, Aster felt like a reader immersed in a captivating story. It was like watching a theatrical play, a narrative that oscillated between moments of intensity—a beautiful, intense, passionate, and ultimately sad narration.

Perhaps, in that moment of dance, he experienced the same

feeling as when, in his youth, he watched a performance of Romeo and Juliet in the cinema.

However… Damián, immersed in an atmosphere of euphoria and celebration, felt as if he were the king of a grand ball. In the air, the promise of an imminent revelation hung, as if at any moment the hosts would announce the king and queen of the ball.

While the music fueled their movements and the lights danced to the rhythm of newly-discovered happiness, Damian realized that, miraculously, his once heavy heart now danced in harmony with the joy surrounding him. The grand gala night became not only a social event but a symbol of the transformation that the ABO world had brought to his life.

His face, once marked by the shadow of loneliness, shone surprisingly. A radiant expression took over his features, as if a beam of light had found its way through the cracks of his emotional armor. A long-forgotten laughter erupted from his lungs, echoing through the hall like a cheerful melody. Damián felt that, finally, that place in the world seemed to belong to him.

As they spun around the hall in a synchronized choreography, Adam noticed the remarkable transformation in Damian's countenance. Under the spotlights of the Gala night, where music flowed smoothly and the atmosphere was charged with romance, Adam couldn't help but comment on the visible metamorphosis of joy in Damián.

Adam smiled, capturing Damian's renewed aura. "You seem to be in ecstasy tonight, Damián, so radiant that I can hear happiness in every step we take."

Damián, still enveloped in the magical atmosphere of the night, responded with palpable joy in his voice. "Adam, it's like I'm at the peak of a grand ball, about to be crowned. King and Queen of the Ball, I'm in love with this night."

As they continued dancing, Damián leaned towards Adam, his voice in an audible whisper only for the two of them. "I just... I don't know... I don't know what's happening to me."

Adam laughed, understanding the depth of the change. "This is our life, our bond, and our feelings that can transform life in unexpected ways. It's something that goes beyond tonight."

Damián looked at Adam with a gleam in his eyes and spoke, his tone now more intimate. "I think it's called pheromones." He cast a questioning look at Adam.

Adam responded, smiling. "I'm serious!"

Damián reacted, tilting his head on Adam's chest. "Is it biological or scientific?"

Adam replied cautiously, "Maybe your omega and sentimental parts are confused. Your heat cycle is approaching."

Damián made a surprised expression. "My omega part?"

Adam pretended to be offended by the response, but with a smile on his lips.

Damián agreed as the two continued dancing at that grand ball, where not only the music but also emotions and encounters became fundamental pieces in an unexpected journey.

Taylor watched Adam and Damián from afar while talking to James. It wasn't just about an alpha and omega couple dancing together... Adam was happy, with a glow she had never seen before.

When she looked at James, he always presented himself as calm, stable, and lucid in business. Nobody is perfect, of course, and James also has some dark sides to deal with. His predatory and pompous nature often soured the atmosphere and made things uncomfortable, to say the least. It is also slightly tainted by an obsessive mindset.

James spoke casually, "You look at those two as if you could never have that happiness. It seems like you're accompanied by a dog."

Taylor responded unwaveringly, "Dogs are loyal always."

James commented, giving a suggestive look, "When you marry me, understand what you're getting into."

Ah, it doesn't have to be scary; I'm not the bad guy. I would like to receive more attention. And I can make you feel loved and important, dear... I feel like Lady Elizabeth seems to encourage our union.

Taylor, maintaining her posture, retorted, "I always considered you a lucid man in business and life; I was mistaken; see that you're delirious!"

James: The paradox that unites also separates. Being a protected member of the Kadman family has given you a lot of courage.

Taylor: If necessary, keep yourself, above all, silent, or speak with moderation. Speaking in itself is not good or bad, but careless speaking is so common that you need to be careful. Frivolous talk is harmful conversation. Besides, it's very impolite to be a chatty person.

Taylor finished with a firm tone as she turned and walked away from James, leaving a determined atmosphere in the air.

James watched in surprise as Taylor left, his expression revealing a mixture of fascination and intrigue. As she departed, he raised the drink glass, tasted the liquid with the look of someone who appreciates quality, and a slight smirk appeared on his lips. It was a mocking smile, suggesting that something in Taylor's attitude amused him.