Shadow Unit Scandal: The Commander's Omega-Chapter 180: After it.

Adam couldn’t answer for a second because his body was still catching up to the idea that the fire had finally stopped eating him alive. The room felt too warm and too still. His skin was sensitive in that post-storm way, as if everything had been turned inside out and allowed to dry.

He was in Max’s arms, and that was questionable at best.

Max’s chest rose against Adam’s back, stabilizing Adam’s breathing rhythm through sheer proximity. His scent was everywhere, and it was now laced with something that made Adam’s instincts settle instead of claw.

Adam’s eyelids fluttered. He realized his hands weren’t shaking anymore.

That should have been relief.

It was.

It was also annoying, because being relieved meant admitting Max had helped.

Adam shifted slightly, testing his limbs. His throat worked once, like he was swallowing pride along with air.

"Don’t," he managed finally, his voice scraped raw.

Max’s arms tightened a fraction. "Don’t what?"

"Don’t sound..." Adam searched for the word and found it with a grimace: "...concerned."

Max huffed a quiet breath against his hair. It might have been a laugh if he’d been in a better mood. "That’s unfortunate."

Adam’s eyes narrowed. "Because it ruins your image as the Emperor’s terrifying knife?"

"Because you’re hard to carry when you’re pretending to die out of spite," Max replied calmly.

Adam made a sound that was half scoff and half wheeze. "You carried me because you wanted to feel heroic."

"I carried you because you were stubborn enough to consider dying in public as a personality trait."

Adam tried to turn his head to glare, but the movement made his body protest. He stopped, scowling harder instead.

Max noticed it, but wisely chose not to say anything.

"You are a dominant alpha," Adam said after a while.

"Mmm," Max replied, unbothered in the way only men who had never had to justify their existence could be. "And you’re a dominant omega. At least one of us didn’t hide what he was."

Adam’s mouth twitched despite himself. The sting was there, because it was true, but it didn’t land cleanly. Not after tonight. Not after heat and teeth and the way Max’s arms had kept him from falling apart in public and then again in private.

"Yeah," Adam murmured. "Well. I had to."

Max didn’t argue that point. He didn’t soften either. He simply held Adam where he was, chest to back, an unwavering embrace that made Adam’s body believe in safety faster than his pride could deny it.

Adam stared at the wall in front of them, eyes heavy, mind clearer now that the worst of the storm had passed. The ache in his muscles was real, but the panic was gone. The frantic edge had faded into something quieter—warm, sore, and manageable.

Which meant his mouth started working again.

It was a curse.

"You know," Adam said, voice still rough, but the bite was creeping back in like a familiar coat, "this makes things easier."

Max’s hand, resting on Adam’s ribs, paused just slightly.

Adam noticed.

"Does it?" Max asked, but he didn’t sound curious. He sounded careful.

Adam shifted slightly in his arms, not fully turning, but enough to indicate he was aware of the attention. "We’re both dominant," he said, like he was offering a logical observation and not poking a bruise. "Which means we don’t have to do the whole tragic, monogamous, one-bond-or-death myth."

Max went very still.

Adam could feel it—control snapping tighter, the way Max’s chest stopped rising as freely for a beat, as if his lungs had decided they were no longer participating in this conversation.

Adam continued anyway, because he couldn’t stop himself once he started.

"We can have multiple bonds," Adam said, light and almost conversational. "It’s not... unheard of. Not for dominants. It’s—"

Max didn’t interrupt.

He didn’t correct him.

He didn’t tell him to shut up even if he wanted to with all his being.

He just... looked at him.

Without even turning his head, Adam felt the weight of Max’s gaze drop, darken, and sharpen instinctively.

Adam swallowed, the sudden shift in the room’s atmosphere tightening his throat. "What?"

Max’s arms tightened around him, pulling Adam closer, as if distance had become unacceptable.

Max’s green eyes, when Adam finally tilted his face enough to catch them in the low light, were darker than before.

Max didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His silence was the kind that made it clear he was choosing restraint with both hands.

Adam’s pulse skipped. Heat wasn’t gone; it was just subdued, and this kind of attention scratched at it in a different way.

"You’re not—" Adam started, then paused, because he didn’t actually know what he was accusing Max of. Feeling? Caring? Being territorial? All of those were embarrassing.

Max’s jaw worked once. Still no words.

Adam’s mouth curved, faint and mean. "Oh. You regret it."

Max chuckled, the sound low and dark, and it slid straight under Adam’s skin like a warning dressed as amusement.

"You could say so," Max murmured. "It was my fault for marking you without boundaries discussed first." His arms tightened a fraction, carefully and controlled. "But I will respect them."

Adam blinked.

Of all the things he expected—denial, arrogance, some infuriating line about duty—that wasn’t it.

"You’re saying that like you didn’t just—" Adam cut himself off because he refused to give the sentence shape. He refused to put that kind of intimacy into words while his pride was still awake.

Max’s breath warmed his hair. "Like I didn’t just take what you asked for?" he supplied anyway.

Adam’s jaw clenched. "Like you didn’t just decide something permanent while I was out of my mind."

Max didn’t flinch. "You weren’t out of your mind," he said. "You were overwhelmed. There’s a difference." Then, after a beat, "But yes. I made a decision too quickly."

Adam’s mouth twisted. "That’s new. You admitting you can be wrong."

Max’s lips brushed the air near Adam’s temple, close enough to feel without becoming a kiss. "Don’t get used to it."

Adam snorted, but it came out weaker than he wanted. The exhaustion was still heavy in his bones, making everything feel slightly slow. He was annoyed at Max’s lack of... passion and possessiveness, something he didn’t think would apply to him.