Dr. Thorne's new mild regulator arrived on schedule six hours later, silently delivered to the study by David. It was a nearly colorless, transparent liquid, contained in a specially designed low-temperature storage vial, emitting an extremely faint, almost imperceptible fresh scent, entirely unlike the cold, potent texture of S-37.
Alexander Kane did not hesitate for a moment. With practiced precision, he injected it into his jugular vein. The liquid flowed into his body, bringing a gentle, tide-like sense of calm that gradually smoothed the low-frequency agitation of his fundamental pheromones, as well as the annoying perception anomalies and cognitive dissociation.
The icy sensation of absolute suppression vanished, replaced by a more natural, though fragile, balance. He could clearly feel that his control was no longer as unbreakable as steel, but more like a thin layer of ice covering the still-deep power that required constant vigilance.
He disliked this state, yet had no choice but to accept it. He needed time for the regulator to gradually guide his pheromones back onto a stable track. During this period, he had to maximize his "distance from triggers"—Dr. Thorne's medical advice, and the optimal solution derived from his cold, rational reasoning.
For the next two days, Kane hardly left the study. He handled all matters via holographic projection and encrypted communications. Meals were delivered directly by David, and he deliberately avoided any form of contact with Isabella, scarcely even checking the surveillance feeds, as if to entirely remove that presence from his perceptual world, expediting the restoration of his damnable, unassailable control.
Isabella, sensitive as ever, noticed the change.
David continued to deliver meals and replace the suppression patches on schedule, maintaining his usual calm detachment. Yet the imposing presence that had filled the top of the Amber Apex Tower seemed to vanish, leaving the suite oppressively quiet, punctuated only by her own breathing and the muted sound of documentaries on her tablet.
This sudden "being forgotten" did not bring her relief; on the contrary, it fostered a deeper unease. The calm before the storm is often the most suffocating. She did not know what he was scheming—this unknown was far more terrifying than direct pressure.
At the same time, the suppression patch at the back of her neck seemed to undergo subtle changes. The new patch's icy restraint felt weaker than before, and the suppressed, Omega-driven restlessness—like a seed buried beneath thick snow—hinted at a faint, uneasy vitality. She attributed it either to her heightened anxiety or a slight adjustment in the regulator's formulation.
By the afternoon of the third day, the inexplicable agitation became more pronounced. She felt restless, uneasy, and her skin grew sensitive; the air seemed suffused with an extremely subtle, almost imperceptible sweetness emanating from herself. She thought the heating might be too high and moved to adjust the thermostat.
As she passed through the center of the living room, the study door opened without warning.
Alexander Kane emerged.
He appeared to have regained much of his strength, dressed in a well-tailored dark loungewear. His complexion was no longer pale, and he had resumed his customary icy authority. Yet in the depths of his eyes, there was a faint, almost imperceptible weariness, and a deeper undercurrent, as if he were fiercely restraining something.
He seemed to step out to pour himself a drink. His gaze habitually swept across the living room before settling on Isabella, who froze instantly by the thermostat at his sudden appearance.
Their eyes locked.
The air seemed to freeze in that instant.
Kane's pupils contracted ever so slightly.
He smelled it.
That extremely faint, pure, almost imperceptible sweet scent, emitted by the subtle fluctuations of Isabella's own pheromones, might have gone unnoticed by an ordinary Alpha. But for an Alpha of his caliber—especially now, under the influence of the new regulator, with heightened senses yet relatively fragile control—it was like a spark landing on a parched plain.
The new regulator had smoothed the deep-layer agitation but did not reinforce suppression; on the contrary, it made his superficial senses even sharper. And Dr. Thorne, in all his calculations, likely had not anticipated that Isabella's suppression patch—because of Kane's earlier orders and recent "distance"—would have its dose slightly reduced or be replaced with a different batch to "adapt to her recovery and reduce side effects," causing an almost imperceptible slack in its effect.
This negligible slack, combined with Kane's current unusual state, created a fatal coincidence.
Kane's body tensed instantly. The glass in his hand was unconsciously gripped so tightly that his knuckles whitened. That pure, irresistibly attractive sweet scent pierced the fragile mask of his composure, striking straight at his instincts.
The faint fatigue and restraint in his eyes were instantly replaced by a surging desire. Deep within his gray-blue gaze, a storm seemed to violently gather—more intense, more uncontrollable than before.
The delicate balance constructed by the new regulator proved utterly fragile under this sudden, intense instinctive assault.
Isabella, seeing the raw, almost devouring desire in his eyes, was terrified beyond reason. She instinctively took a step back, intending to flee, only to find her legs weak and unresponsive. The powerful, destructive wave of Alpha pheromones hit her like a tangible tsunami, pressing down so hard she could barely breathe.
"Don't…" she whispered, brokenly, tears immediately springing to her eyes.
But that plea acted like a catalyst, shattering the last remnants of Kane's rational defense.
He threw the glass aside; the shattering sound was crisp and piercing. In a ghostly flash, he closed the distance to Isabella.
"Ah!" she screamed as he grabbed her wrist with a brutal grip, almost crushing the bones. He forced her toward the massive sofa, staggering her steps.
"Let me go! Please! Let go!" she cried desperately, struggling with every limb, trying to push him away, yet it was like an ant against a tree.
Kane ignored her pleas and struggles entirely. Only a raw, primal darkness governed his eyes. He pinned her against the sofa cushions, his tall frame looming over her, his scorching, chaotic presence pressing against the side of her neck.
"My…" he growled hoarsely, a guttural proclamation, his scorching hand roughly tearing open the collar at the back of her neck.
The patch covering her fragile glands was exposed to the air, warming and trembling slightly from fear and physical contact.
Isabella sensed the terrifying intent in his gaze. A cold wave of terror washed over her, and she screamed shrilly: "No—!!!"
But her resistance was utterly meaningless.
Alexander lowered his head, his cold lips brushing against the slightly raised, trembling skin of the gland. In the next instant, he opened his mouth abruptly, and his sharp canines, without hesitation, pierced through the thin skin and the suppression patch, embedding deeply into it.
"Ugh—!!"
A surge of indescribable agony mixed with an almost terrifying pleasure erupted through Isabella's entire body like a high-voltage shock. Her body convulsed violently, her vision went blank, and all her cries and struggles abruptly ceased.
It was as if her soul had been torn, shattered, and forcibly branded with an indelible mark.
The immense and violent Alpha pheromones of Alexander Kane, like a breached dam, poured forcefully through the bitten gland into her body, merging roughly and dominantly with her own Omega pheromones.
This was no longer the oppressive presence that had hovered in the air; it penetrated her veins, her marrow, reaching into the deepest recesses of her soul. It proclaimed absolute ownership and control.
The entire process was brief yet intense.
Seconds later, Kane released his teeth and lifted his head. His lips were streaked with blood, and the storm of madness in his eyes gradually subsided, replaced by a languid satisfaction and a fleeting, almost vacant emptiness.
Isabella lay slumped on the sofa like a discarded, broken doll. Her gaze was vacant, fixed on the ornate yet cold ceiling lights above. Her body twitched involuntarily at times, and the back of her neck burned with the searing pain of the branded gland. Blood seeped from the wound, mingling with the thick, cloying scent of overlapping Alpha and Omega pheromones—a testament to the completed act of forced possession.
After the excruciating pain came a deeper, numbing chill. She could feel an inescapable mark of him within her, a twisted instinctive submission and shameful dependency quietly growing alongside the physiological connection, tearing violently against her fear and humiliation.
Kane slowly straightened, looking down at Isabella, seemingly soulless beneath him, and at the clear bite mark and blood on the back of her neck. The fleeting vacancy in his eyes was quickly replaced by his familiar coldness and sense of control.
The marking was complete. Every part of this possession had been stamped with his sign.
The previously uncontrollable agitation seemed to settle, as the new regulator resumed its effect.
He reached out, his rough fingertips brushing the wound on the back of her neck, sending a shiver through her. Isabella's eyes snapped shut, tears slipping silently from their corners.
"Now," he said in a low, hoarse voice, carrying the satisfaction of the act and absolute icy control, "you belong to me completely."
He stood, tidied his slightly disheveled clothing, as if the previous act of violence were a mere triviality, and without another glance at her, turned toward the study. Coldly, he instructed David, who had silently appeared at the suite door like an invisible sentinel:
"Call the doctor. Handle it."
The door closed.
The suite was left with only Isabella, lying on the cold sofa. The lingering scent of the marking, the burning pain in her neck, and the icy desolation within her heart were reminders of the terrifying violation she had just endured.