Masked Devotion

A secret

Joong

The air was heavy with the weight of my anger as I descended the stairs to the basement, the only place that knew the true depths of my darkness. A basement that held secrets far more sinister than anyone could ever imagine. To the world, I was just Joong, the cheerful actor, the man who graced magazine covers, stole hearts on-screen, and charmed everyone off it. Loved by many, admired by more. But that was only one side of me. The side I allowed the world to see.

Away from the blinding lights, the cameras, and the endless interviews, I was something else entirely. A shadow that lurked beneath the surface, a predator hidden in plain sight. My brother, Phuwin, had no idea of the double life I led. He didn’t know what lurked in my basement, nor did he know what I was truly capable of. I intended to keep it that way. He was too innocent, too good to be tainted by the darkness that consumed me.

Only Pond, my closest ally, and my parents knew the truth. Pond had stood by me through everything—through blood, sweat, betrayal, and loss. He understood what I was because he had seen it, lived it. And still, he stayed by my side. My parents? They had known from the beginning, and they, too, chose to keep the veil of normalcy over my public life.

But tonight, something had changed. Something precious—something I cherished more than anything—had slipped through my fingers. It was gone. I lost it today, and that realization clawed at my insides, shredding whatever remnants of calm I had left. Maybe I was insane, but at this point, I didn’t care. If anyone dared to stand in my way, they would fall. There would be no mercy.

The basement was pitch-black, the silence oppressive, save for the faint light trailing in from the narrow stairwell. The chill in the air bit at my skin as I reached the bottom. The cold always helped to ground me, to keep my rage from spiraling completely out of control. My men were already there, kneeling in a row, heads bowed in perfect submission. They knew what was coming. They knew they deserved what was about to happen.

I walked through the darkness, the only sound the soft thud of my boots against the concrete floor. I could feel their fear; it hung in the air like a fog. Fear was a weapon, one I wielded expertly. But tonight, it wasn’t enough to satisfy the fury burning in my chest. I needed more. I needed blood.

I laughed—a sharp, bitter sound that cut through the silence like a blade. My men flinched at the sound, their shoulders stiffening, fear etched into every line of their bodies. I relished in it. Fear was their acknowledgment of my power, their understanding of how badly they had failed.

I made my way to the chair in the center of the room, the one I always used for moments like these. The tension in the air was so thick it was almost suffocating. I sat down slowly, deliberately, savoring the control I held over them. They had no idea what I was about to do, but they knew it wouldn’t be good.

"Impressive," I finally said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Truly impressive. After years of mafia training, after hunting down some of the most dangerous people out there—killers, warlords, traitors—you can’t catch one man." I paused, letting my words sink in. My fingers curled into fists as my blood boiled. "Just one."

The silence stretched on, heavy and suffocating, before I continued. "Bravo!" I clapped slowly, deliberately, the sound echoing in the basement, mocking them. "Really, an achievement worth celebrating. After all, how hard could it be to find a single person? A person who managed to slip through your fingers." My voice grew colder, more venomous. "And now he’s gone. Vanished. All your skills, all your training... wasted."

Without a second thought, I stood, yanking off my shirt and tossing it to the side. The cold air hit my skin, but it did little to cool the fire raging inside me. I needed to vent, to release the anger before it consumed me whole. I strode toward the boxing ring in the corner of the basement, the one I had set up for moments like these. Moments where words weren’t enough.

I slipped on my gloves, my heart pounding in my chest, my vision tinted red. One by one, they stepped into the ring with me. And one by one, I beat them down. My fists landed blow after blow, fueled by the fury I couldn’t contain. I was a force of nature, unstoppable, relentless. Each punch carried the weight of my disappointment, my frustration.

Blood stained the floor. Their groans filled the air, a symphony of suffering. But they weren’t dead—not yet. That would have been too merciful. I wanted them to suffer, to feel the pain of their failure. They were broken, their bodies battered and bruised, their strength drained. I stood in the center of the ring, breathing heavily, my fists still clenched, blood dripping from my knuckles.

And then Pond stepped forward.

"Joong, stop this." His voice was steady, but I could hear the desperation in his tone. He didn’t want to see this—didn’t want to watch me destroy everything, including myself. "Beating them won’t bring him back. We’ve searched everywhere near the venue. He’s not on any CCTV footage... it’s like he vanished."

I ripped the gloves from my hands, my breathing ragged, chest heaving. Vanished. That word reverberated in my mind, mocking me. My hands clenched into fists again, my nails digging into my palms. "Vanished?" I asked, my voice dangerously low, a threat lingering in every syllable.

"We’ll find him, Joong," Pond said, his eyes meeting mine with determination. He wasn’t afraid of me—not the way the others were. He never had been. "I swear it. But this... this won’t help. You need to stay calm."

"Calm?" I stepped closer, my eyes narrowing as I stared him down. "Do it quickly, Pond. Find him. Or you’ll wish you were dead." I turned, leaving the ring behind, the bloodied bodies of my men lying in silence. My mind was already somewhere else.

As I climbed the stairs, the shadows seemed to wrap around me, pulling me back into the darkness. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Alpha. The man who had gotten away. But he wasn’t just any man. No, he was something more.

The smell of him lingered in my memory, haunting me. That dark, musky scent, so distinct and powerful. It wrapped around me like a vice, squeezing the breath from my lungs. I couldn’t escape it, couldn’t forget it. It clung to me, invaded my thoughts, and drove me to madness.

And his eyes. God, his eyes. They weren’t just beautiful—they were dangerous. Eyes that could trap you, ensnare you, pull you into a place where you lost all control. And I had looked into them for too long. They had captivated me, hypnotized me, made me forget who I was for just a moment. A moment was all it took for me to fall.

He was mine. My Alpha. I scoffed at myself, shaking my head as I reached the top of the stairs. The thought was ridiculous, insane. But I couldn’t deny it. I was drawn to him in a way I had never been drawn to anyone before. Alphas, omegas—none of them had ever intrigued me. None of them had ever made me feel... this.

But him? He had turned the tables on me. He had made me feel something I hadn’t felt in years—vulnerability. I hated it. Hated him for it. Yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. His scent, his eyes, the way he had looked at me... it was enough to drive me to madness.

No matter how much he had slipped through my fingers, no matter how far he thought he could run, there would be no escaping me. I always got what I wanted. Always.

"Where are you, Alpha?" I whispered into the night as I stepped into the cold air, my heart pounding with both fury and something else. Something I refused to name. The hunt had only just begun.

But this time, it was personal.