DOMINIC'S ROOM
The interrogation room was dimly lit, the air thick with tension. The Omega servant sat trembling in the metal chair across from me, her hands gripping the hem of her ragged dress so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.
I stood before her, arms crossed, my presence looming over her. The weight of my dominance filled the room, pressing down on her like an unseen force. She flinched under my gaze, her breathing shallow and uneven.
She knew why she was here.
She had tried to flee the pack’s borders. And now, I wanted to know why.
“Look at me,” I commanded, my voice low but sharp.
She hesitated before slowly lifting her head, her eyes darting around as if searching for an escape. Her entire body was trembling. Omegas were naturally submissive to authority, but this was something else.
This was fear.
“Why were you trying to run?” I asked, my tone even, controlled.
Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her gaze flickered to the guards at the door, as if debating whet
