Behind the Beta's Mask: The Hidden Omega

Orion Pov

My scent was supposed to be gone.

Erased.

Controlled.

Suppressants were injected every morning. My skin was soaked in neutral blockers. My clothes infused with artificial neutral Beta pheromones. No one could know I was an Omega—not in a world where Omegas were bred, bought, and sold like property.

I was the heir to the Drevenhart Conglomerate…

At least, that’s what the press called me.

The truth?

I was a puppet. A breathing symbol of a dead legacy.

My uncle—Sebastian Drevenhart—sat on the throne built by my parents. After their “accident,” he adopted me to maintain the illusion of continuity.

Public sympathy kept the company afloat. I was nothing but a soft face to sign documents and pose for the media.

He let me live because I was useful. Not loved. Not protected.

Useful.

But tonight, that carefully maintained illusion shattered.

The annual Drevenhart Gala was in full swing. Crystal chandeliers threw rainbow prisms across the ballroom. Soft classical music hummed under murmurs of power and wealth. I stood at the edge of it all, buried in a custom suit that felt like armor, my heartbeat wild beneath the silk.

Sweat formed at the back of my neck.

Something was wrong.

My body ached. Heat pooled low in my stomach like molten glass. I clutched my flute of champagne tighter, jaw clenched. My limbs felt heavier. My mouth dry.

No.

Not now.

Not here.

I turned and slipped out of the ballroom, unnoticed in the crowd of elite betas and alphas swirling past. Down a marble corridor, past oil paintings of founders and forgotten wars, I finally stopped in the shadow of a towering pillar in the gallery.

My breath came in shaky gasps.

Suppressant. I needed my suppressant.

I fumbled inside my jacket pocket. The vial. The injector. The cold metal relief of it—

Gone.

No. No, no, no.

I turned out both pockets. Checked my inner coat. Frantically tapped each compartment.

Gone.

I must have dropped it.

I gripped the stone column, barely holding myself up. My knees felt like water. My skin burned under my collar. The heat was crawling over me, dragging my scent into the open.

I couldn’t stay here. If anyone caught a whiff of me, if my uncle found out—

“Looking for this?”

The voice slithered over me like warm smoke.

I froze.

Low. Confident. Amused.

Dangerous.

I turned slowly, praying it wasn’t my uncle.

And it wasn't

But it was my business rival.

Cassian Vale.

The Alpha Prince of the North — and the one man who always managed to get under my skin without even trying.

We’d crossed paths more than once at meetings, auctions, and business summits. Every time, he’d flash that calm, unreadable expression while proposing deals that cleverly undercut mine. Not illegal. Not even hostile. Just smart — too smart. Strategic in a way that felt personal.

He had a reputation for being ruthless, but it wasn’t violence I feared. It was the way he could dismantle my entire plan with one signature, one offer, one calculated smile.

We weren’t enemies. But we weren’t friends either.

He leaned casually against the far wall, sleeves rolled up, jacket hanging off one shoulder. In his hand, like a mocking trophy, was my injector. He twirled it between his fingers, expression unreadable.

“What’s a Beta heir doing with Omega suppressant?” he asked, head tilting slightly.

I said nothing.

I couldn’t. My throat tightened. My instincts screamed at me to run, but my legs wouldn't move.

He stepped forward. One slow, deliberate stride.

I stepped back.

“I don’t think you’re who we think you are,” he murmured.

His eyes locked onto mine. Silver-gray. Cold and bright at the same time.

He wasn’t just analyzing me.

He was scenting me.

And I… I could smell him too.

His pheromones hit me like a punch to the gut. Electric. Raw. Dominant. My heat responded violently, dragging another wave of tremors through my body.

No.

Not now.

“Don’t,” I whispered, voice cracking. “You don’t understand…”

His smile was slow. Dangerous.

Like a lion that already knew the antelope wouldn’t escape.

“Oh, I do. I’ve been hunting for a scent like yours for a long time.”

He took another step, closing the distance. My back hit the pillar. Cold stone against overheated skin. Trapped.

He raised the injector, then slowly set it on a marble pedestal nearby—out of my reach.

“Cassian—” I gasped, regretting the use of his name instantly.

His smile widened just slightly.

“So we’re on a first-name basis now?” he said. “You must really be overheating.”

His fingers brushed my jaw.

I flinched.

But my body… betrayed me. My scent spiked. I could feel it, spiraling out of me like a wildfire, thick and sweet and damning.

I had to find a suppressant as soon as possible. Cassian wouldn't give it back and I couldn’t also wait any longer.

I got up, trying to leave his presence and save my true identity from vultures.

“You’re not going anywhere, little Omega,” he said softly.

That name—Little Omega—hit harder than his anything. .

And just like that, I knew.

My secret wasn’t safe anymore.

And neither was I.