AT THE SAME TIME
VANESSA'S POINT OF VIEW:
They always said Omegas were made to be cared for. Protected. Pretty little things kept behind closed doors. Collared and kissed and bred. Lies. I was born with nothing. No family name. No mark. No Alpha to claim me, no Beta to guard me. Just the cold and the gnawing in my stomach that never quite went away. Hunger becomes a rhythm. Every footstep I took, I could feel the emptiness dragging behind me like a shadow.
I slept under broken roofs, stole bread when I could, and learned fast that no one cares about an unclaimed Omega girl who smells too weak to matter and too stubborn to die. There were days I'd go so long without food, I forgot what full felt like. Nights when my fingers turned blue and I couldn't stop shaking, but I always woke up. I always kept moving. Because I refused to die a nobody. Then I saw him.
The golden Alpha prince. Crowned by the gods, blessed with fame, fed fat on praise and luxury. The Hero. His name was sung in the streets while people like me rotted in silence. And there he was, broken and One of those giant razor-tusk beasts was still circling, twitching with bloodlust. He was supposed to win. Alphas like him always do.
But he didn't. I stood just beyond the tree line, shaking from cold, my lips cracked, eyes burning. He saw me. Reached out.
"P–please." He croaked. "Don't… don't leave me."
I didn't answer. Just walked past him, straight toward the monster. My body moved without thinking, like it always did when it was kill or be killed. It lunged. I rolled. My blade, a barely sharpened iron, sank into its throat and twisted. Warm blood sprayed my face. When it hit the ground, twitching and done, I exhaled like I hadn't in weeks. Then I turned back to him.
He was wheezing now, eyes wide with disbelief. His scent was fading fast into fear and pain. He wasn't a god. He wasn't unique. He was just another dying boy in gold. I crouched next to him. Not out of mercy.
"You know how long I've starved while your posters were plastered on every wall?" I asked, voice flat. "How many people died so you could look heroic in a velvet cape?"
He tried to speak but coughed blood.
"Bet they never told you Omegas could fight," I murmured, pulling off his cloak. "Bet they never told you we could kill. I can kill you if I wanted too, but no, I will let you suffer like I did."
He was dying and it was obvious. Slow. Rasping. Like every breath was a betrayal. I should've walked away. I meant to. His blood was drying on my fingers. His name was already forming in my mouth like something sacred I meant to defile. But gods... he looked young. Younger than the statues. His face, pale beneath the blood, was softer than I expected. Not the war-forged Alpha I'd imagined, just a boy dressed in power. His eyes fluttered. Barely conscious.
"Please… I don't… want to die alone…"He begged.
I hated him for that. For making me hesitate. I dropped to one knee beside him and pulled out the scrap bandage I always kept tucked in my coat. I didn't do much. Just pressed it to his side, tight enough to stop the bleeding for a while. Not enough to save him. Enough to give him a chance. Why? I don't know.
Pity? Guilt? Rage at the universe that made me into this and him into that?
"If you live." I whispered as I tied off the bandage. "Remember who let you."
I stood, heavy with borrowed armor, his blood soaking into my collar. I left him there, still breathing.
And I didn't look back.
The Academy loomed ahead like a palace of wolves.
I'd spent the night in the woods outside the wall, scrubbing the dried blood from my new uniform, slipping my scent suppressors into place, and polishing the badge. Practiced the voice. William Blackstone.
Alpha. Combat. exempt due to injury, now returning to reclaim his place. Perfect. My heart beat a little too fast. I blamed the cold.
When I stepped through the front gates, my head turned like it was an important part of act. I didn't smile. Smiling was a weakness. Alphas didn't smile; they smirked. They loomed. They owned the space they walked through. So I did.
"That's Blackstone." Someone whispered.
"The Hero."Another whispered.
"Didn't he vanish last year?"Third one asked.
I kept walking. Every footstep echoed louder than it should have. I passed a mirrored pillar and caught my reflection: broad shoulders, short cropped hair, a scar I'd added just below my jawline to match the file photo. I looked... Alpha. I didn't feel it. Not underneath. But I didn't have to feel it. I just had to fake it better than anyone else.
At the registrar's desk, the Beta clerk nearly knocked over a coffee mug when he saw me.
"M-Mr. Blackstone?! I, I wasn't informed you'd be uh-"He started.
"Transfer papers are in the royal archive." I said coolly, sliding my forged ID across the counter. "Notify the headmaster."
He nodded so fast I thought his head might pop off.
"Understood, Mr. Blackstone. I am glad that you joined the academy."He said.
"I am glad too."I said.
"Here you go. A classes list."He said as I took the paper.
Behind me, a group of Alphas stared like I'd just descended from a cloud of divine light and testosterone. One of them, tall, red-eyed, and a bully in training, grunted something to his friend. I heard 'competition.' Good. Let them try. They didn't know me. Didn't know what I'd done. And as long as I kept this lie alive, they never would. I was Omega who nearly killed alpha, and that was the most important fact. I had a stolen hero's family identity, and now I had new life that I wasn't planning to lose anytime soon.