Naomi’s pov :

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I felt was excruciating pain throughout my body, as if I had been run over by a train. I tried to get up, but my hand touched something—to be precise, a man.

When I saw the man's face clearly, my breath caught in my throat.

I had sex with my alpha mate, the one who hated me the most. Three years ago, he rejected me, warning me that he would strangle me if I came near him. For the past three years, I had been running from him.

What happened last night?

Last night, I worked my shift as usual, trying to be inconspicuous. Then the manager called me over, handed me a tray of drinks, and asked me to deliver them to one of the VIP rooms.

It should have been a simple task, and I didn't think anything of it at the time. But the moment I stepped through that door, I knew something was wrong. Before I could even think, a stench hit me. I tried to run away, but Alpha Theron immediately came over, grabbed me, and threw me onto the bed.

His eyes told me he was in heat. A male Alpha in heat. And not just any male Alpha, but a top-tier one.

Even among their kind, S-rank Alphas are extremely rare. They are the most powerful and dominant, and other Alphas instinctively submit to them. When their heat cycle arrives, it's not just lust, but a wild and dangerous state of out-of-control behavior. Their pheromones can dominate, seduce, and even paralyze their mates, or anyone else sharing their heat cycle. No one can resist their allure. Especially an Omega like me.

I remember my heart stopping the moment his gaze locked onto me. For a fleeting instant, a flicker of confusion crossed his eyes, a mixture of awareness and instinct. Before I could react, his hands were on my body, pulling me closer, and then he entered me.

Everything that followed blurred into a hazy memory, leaving only burning heat, fear, and helplessness.

I had to leave immediately. If Theron woke up, I couldn't imagine how he would treat me. Especially when he learned the truth: his parents were killed by my mate.

_____

1 week later

I thought the nightmare would fade after a week. That the memories would dull, the constant ache in my chest would stop clawing at me every time I tried to sleep. But it didn't. If anything, it worsened.

Every morning, I woke up gasping, drenched in sweat, my body still echoing the phantom pains. I'd lost something irreplaceable that night: not just my innocence, but a fragment of my spirit, stolen in the haze, leaving me adrift and irreparably damaged.

I sighed deeply and dragged myself from the tangled sheets of my narrow bed. My tiny room reeked of cheap detergent and lingering dust, the thin walls letting in every neighbor's argument, the peeling paint a mocking reminder of my fall from grace. The single window admitted only a dismal sliver of gray light, mirroring the despair in my heart. I had no time for self-pity; work loomed, bills piled like accusations, rent due in two days.

As if summoned by my misery, a loud knock rattled the door.

“Naomi!” Mrs. Trent's sharp voice pierced the thin wood, laced with impatience.

My heart sank further, a fresh wave of panic tightening my throat. I hurried to open it, forcing a trembling smile that felt like a lie. “Good morning, Mrs. Trent.”

The old woman crossed her arms, her eyes cold and unyielding. “Morning or not, you’ve got two days to pay up. No more excuses, girl. If it’s not in my hands by Friday, you’re on the street.”

I swallowed hard, tears pricking my eyes as humiliation burned my cheeks. “I’ll pay, I promise. I’m just… waiting for this week’s wages.”

She snorted skeptically, shrugging as if my desperation meant nothing. “Promises don’t keep the lights on. Two days, or out.”

When she left, I slumped against the door, pressing my palms to my face as silent sobs shook my frame. Two days. How? I was already drowning—groceries reduced to scraps, electricity flickering on borrowed time, even bus fare a luxury I skipped by walking miles in the rain.

Being an omega only deepened the pit. Jobs were scarce for us; we were seen as burdens—fragile, emotional wrecks prone to disruption. Employers demanded suppressant proofs, citing risks: heats drawing unwanted attention, Alphas losing control. "Too much trouble," they'd say, doors slamming in my face. But I'd never experienced a heat—a rare anomaly some called a curse, but to me, a fragile shield in a world that preyed on the weak. It spared me the fevers, the cravings, the vulnerability, yet left me isolated, an outcast even among my own.

Once, life was different. My father's company towered among the elite, our mansion a haven of luxury, servants attending every whim. I was cherished, carefree, never tasting want. But scandal struck like lightning—bankruptcy, ruin—and then my father vanished into the night, leaving me alone, penniless, to fend in a cruel world. The memory stung like salt in wounds, tears flowing freely now as I brushed my hair with shaking hands, forcing myself out into the cold.

The hotel lobby buzzed indifferently, guests oblivious to my turmoil. I tied my apron with numb fingers, ignoring the whispers and stares that prickled my skin like needles. In the staff area, my friend Mira—another omega, her eyes kind but unknowing—waved me over, face alight with gossip. “Naomi! Have you heard?”

I blinked through the haze of exhaustion. “Heard what?”

She leaned in, whispering excitedly. “There’s a rumor flying around. An S-tier Alpha is hunting for an omega.”

My breath caught, a vise squeezing my lungs as my hands froze. “Hunting… for an omega?”

She nodded, oblivious to my paling face. “Yeah, it’s huge. He’s scouring everywhere. Word is, she… well, did something to him.”

Panic clawed up my throat. “Did something?”

“I don’t have all the details. But they say an omega snuck into his suite during his heat, took advantage. Now he’s raging, using every connection to track her down.”

The tray slipped from my grasp, clattering loudly, drawing eyes as my world tilted. My body went icy, limbs trembling uncontrollably.

“When… when did this happen?” I whispered, more to myself, voice breaking.

Mira tilted her head, concern flickering. “What do you mean?”

I forced a brittle smile, my lips quivering. “N-Nothing. Just… surprised.”

I could scarcely breathe, the air too thick, my chest heaving with suppressed sobs. The manager had sent me—ordered me into that room with the drinks. I hadn’t known, hadn’t chosen. Now, it twisted into accusation, painting me as the villain in my own tragedy.

I longed to confess to Mira, to unburden the weight crushing me, but fear sealed my lips. She’d never believe such a tale, and if Elias truly hunted, any whisper could doom me.

Then, the intercom crackled: “Naomi Voss, report to the manager’s office immediately.”

The room fell silent, pitying gazes burning into me like brands.

Mira touched my arm gently. “Hey… are you in trouble?”

I shook my head, a lie that choked me. “No, it’s… nothing.” But inside, terror screamed—it was everything, the end unraveling.

Mr. Barlow sat behind his desk, tapping a pen with mechanical precision, not glancing up as I entered on wobbly legs.

“Sit down,” he commanded, voice devoid of warmth.

I obeyed, perching on the edge, hands clasped to hide their shake, heart hammering painfully.

After an eternity of silence that amplified my dread, he spoke. “You’re dismissed.”

The words struck like a blow, knocking the air from my lungs. “W-What?”

He met my eyes finally, cold and detached. “You’re fired.”

Tears spilled over, hot trails down my cheeks. “Why? Please, what did I do?”

He sighed, as if my despair inconvenienced him. “You want the truth? There’s a report, Naomi. You took advantage of a guest—a powerful Alpha.”

My breath hitched in a sob. “That’s not true! You sent me! You handed me the tray and told me to go to that suite!”

His pen halted, sweat beading on his brow as he averted his gaze. “Watch your accusations!”

“It’s the truth!” I cried, voice trembling, tears flowing freely. “I didn’t know who was inside! I was just doing my job!”

He wiped his forehead, fidgeting. “You misunderstood. I said deliver the drinks, not… assault him.”

“Assault?” The word broke me, a wail escaping as I clutched the desk. “I didn’t—I couldn’t—”

He cut me off with a raised hand. “Enough. Take it up with him if you must. I won’t risk my position for your mess.”

Sobs wracked my body, my pleas desperate. “Please, Mr. Barlow. I need this job. Rent’s due, I have nothing—nowhere to go. I’ll starve, please!”

He stood abruptly, unmoved. “Should’ve thought of that before sneaking in. Do you even know who he is?”

“I know,” I whispered brokenly, without thinking. “I know exactly who he is!”

Before he could respond, a voice deep, familiar, laced with ice spoke from behind.

“Then explain it to me, Naomi.”

I froze, blood turning to frost as terror gripped me. Slowly, I turned, my tear-streaked face lifting to meet his gaze, the world crumbling around my fragile, pitiful form.