It took Alex two long, suffocating hours to get home. The night air clung to his skin, thick and stifling, but he barely felt it. His body moved on autopilot, each step heavier than the last, as if unseen weights were strapped to his limbs.
As soon as he stepped inside, he went to the bathroom, peeling off his clothes with slow, mechanical movements. His muscles ached, a dull throb pulsing beneath his skin, but the worst of it settled in his stomach—a persistent, gnawing tug that refused to ease. It was probably normal, considering how brutal their coupling had been.
The thought made his stomach churn.
He turned the faucet, letting scalding water pour into the tub, steam curling in the air like ghostly fingers. The moment he stepped in, heat licked at his skin, a sharp sting before it dulled into something almost bearable. He sank lower, resting his head against the edge of the tub, staring blankly at the ceiling.
His nape throbbed.
Lifting a shaky hand, he brushed his fingers over the bite. The skin there felt raw, hypersensitive to even the lightest touch. He could still feel the phantom press of teeth, the sharp puncture, the burn that had spread through his veins.
But it didn't mean anything.
It was just another wound. One of many.
With forced detachment, he cleaned it, ignoring the way his fingers trembled. He disinfected the wound. Then covered it with a plaster. Done. Finished. It was over.
He stepped out of the bath, wrapped himself in a towel, and padded toward the bed. His phone sat on the nightstand, its dark screen reflecting his hollow expression. He picked it up, his fingers hovering over the keyboard before he finally typed a message to the head chef.
I won't be coming back to work. I'm really sorry for the sudden resignation. Thank you for everything.
A pause. A sharp inhale. Then, another message.
Eric, I'm going to be really busy for a while. Sorry if I don't get back to your messages. I promise we'll spend time together when things settle down.
He shut the phone off and set it aside.
Then, he curled into himself, pulling the blanket over his head like it could shield him from the crushing weight in his chest.
Why?
Why did he always have to be the one to suffer?
What had he done to deserve this?
It wasn't his fault that he had manifested as an omega. But the world made it feel like it was.
Omega males had always been looked down upon—delicate, submissive, weak. Society sneered at the thought of men bearing children, viewing it as an insult to masculinity. They were rejected for failing to meet the rigid expectations of strength and dominance so worshiped in men.
Yet, at the same time, omegas were coveted.
Alphas needed them. Desired them. Especially dominant omega males, who were prized for their ability to produce strong heirs—future alphas meant to carry on powerful legacies.
It was an infuriating paradox. To be simultaneously despised and sought after.
But not all families treated their omega sons like burdens. Like something to be ashamed of the way his family did.
Eric was an omega, too, yet his family adored him. Cherished him. Treated him like he was something precious, not something shameful.
Why couldn't Alex's family be like that?
But deep down, he knew.
It wasn't just because he was an omega. That had only made things worse. The truth was, he had always been unwanted.
He had been born into a house of cruelty. From as early as he could remember, he had been Ian's punching bag, Elena's scapegoat—or worse, her accomplice when she needed a disposable pawn. His father, when he wasn't ignoring him altogether, spoke to him like he was a disgrace.
And his mother…
She had made it clear, long before he even understood what it meant, that she wished she had never given birth to him.
Her pregnancy and giving birth had been difficult. More painful than with his siblings. And she had never forgiven him for it.
Not once had she held him. Not once had she kissed his forehead or wrapped him in the warmth of her arms. She never even looked at him with anything but regret.
Instead, he was raised by nannies, by house staff, by the sterile care of people paid to watch over him. And yet, for the sake of appearances, the world had been fed a different story.
They had painted him as the beloved son. The favored child. The one they adored and protected above all else. Always keeping him hidden from the dangers of the world. A carefully crafted lie, sold to the highest bidder.
Perhaps his family would have tolerated him—maybe even treated him with a shred of care—if he had manifested as a dominant omega. At least then, he would have been considered useful. A commodity. An asset they could leverage.
But no.
Fate had twisted the knife deep, making him nothing more than an ordinary omega. Not even a recessive one—because if he had been recessive, he would have been closer to a beta, and then he would have been spared the burden of suppressants, spared the need to dull his existence with pills just to avoid drawing attention.
His family had never tried to hide their disappointment.
The only reason they had allowed him to leave for another city was because they didn't want him mingling with the children of other elite families at the university. His presence was an embarrassment, a stain they would rather keep out of sight. Out of reach.
They had made their plans clear from the start.
Once he finished college, they would slot him into a forgettable position at one of their lesser hotels, buried in some quiet, unremarkable town—far enough away that his existence wouldn't interfere with the carefully cultivated image of their family. That was his fate, as far as they were concerned. That was the path they had laid out for him.
Alex wondered how they would react when they found out he had dropped out of college years ago.
Violently, probably.
But that was a problem for another time. Right now, it almost didn't matter. Because despite everything, despite the suffocating weight of his family's expectations, the years he had spent away from them had been the best of his life.
For the first time, he had been free.
Free to do what he loved most. Free to explore. Free to lose himself in flavors, in textures, in the heat of a kitchen that felt more like home than any mansion ever had.
He had met people—so many people. He had tasted the best food in the world, food that didn't make his stomach twist with nausea the way it always had when he was forced to eat under his father's scrutinizing gaze.
He had made friends, though none close enough to truly know him. He had kept them at arm's length, never revealing too much, never peeling back the layers of who he really was. But still—those years had been fun.
And then Damien came into his life.
And for the first time, Alex felt seen.
Damien had looked at him like he was special. He had listened when Alex spoke, paid attention to the smallest details. He had praised his cooking, told him his dishes were perfection, that he had a gift. He had whispered that Alex had the most beautiful eyes in the world, that he was the luckiest man alive to have met him.
For the first time, Alex had let himself believe. Had let himself hope. That maybe—just maybe—the heavens had finally taken pity on him. That maybe, for once in his life, someone truly cared.
But Damien had turned out to be a fucking monster.
What he had done to him had crushed whatever fragile hope Alex had been holding onto. It had killed the last flicker of light inside him.
How could he have been so stupid?
How could he have thought—even for a second—that he was allowed to have something good? That someone would want him without breaking him in the end?
No matter what his family had done to Damien, none of it was his fault. So why did he have to pay the price? Hadn't he suffered enough?
When would it end?
A sharp sob tore from his throat as he curled into himself, his body shaking beneath the weight of everything. He buried his head under the blanket, but it did nothing to shut out the pain.
His limbs felt heavy. His mind, muddled.
And his heart—
Well.
It didn't feel like he had a heart anymore.
Just a hollow, gaping void inside his chest.
And that emptiness was swallowing him whole.