AVA’S POV
The sky had darkened by the time I finished my work. I grabbed my bag, my thoughts heavy, and made my way to the door of the office. The air outside was cool, biting against my skin, but it did little to numb the weight in my chest. My twin brother, Eli, had always been my anchor. He was the one person who understood me completely. We were inseparable, our bond forged through tragedy and survival. Now, he was lying in a sterile hospital bed, fighting for his life. The doctors had told me that his condition was dire, but they couldn't even tell me how long he'd have. It was all about the operation. If we didn’t get the money, we’d lose him. I walked quickly to my car, my fingers tightening around the wheel as I gripped it, desperate to drive faster. My brother needed me. I needed to be with him. As I arrived at the hospital, the sterile scent of antiseptic hit me, a smell I had grown to hate. I passed through the long corridors, the walls pale, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, and found myself in front of Eli’s room. I took a breath before pushing the door open. "Eli?" My voice cracked as I entered, my heart sinking at the sight of him. Eli was pale, his usual bright, mischievous expression replaced with a hollow, sickly look. His hair was unkempt, his skin slick with sweat, and he lay motionless on the hospital bed, his breathing shallow. A machine next to him beeped steadily, a constant reminder of the fragile thread between life and death. My heart ached at the sight of him like this. This wasn't the brother I knew—this wasn’t the boy who used to make me laugh with his ridiculous antics. This was the boy who had become a shell of himself, trapped in a body that was slowly failing. "Hey, Eli," I whispered, pulling a chair beside his bed and taking his hand. "How are you feeling today?" He blinked, his eyes barely opening, his voice soft. "Tired... So tired, Ava." Tears welled in my eyes, but I blinked them back. I couldn’t break down in front of him. Not now. Not when I was the only one who could save him. The doctors had called it Dystrophic Myopathy—a rare genetic disorder that caused progressive muscle degeneration. It attacked the muscle tissues, slowly breaking them down, leaving the body weak and helpless. There was no cure. The only thing that could save him was an extremely costly operation to stop the degeneration from spreading to his vital organs. It was as though my whole life had been a series of trials designed to break me. Losing my parents, the violence that tore our family apart, and now my twin brother slowly dying before my eyes. I squeezed his hand tightly, trying to steady my voice. "Eli, you’re going to get through this. We’re going to find a way to get you that surgery." He smiled weakly, though the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I don’t want you to worry about me. I’m just... tired." "No." I shook my head, trying to smile through the lump in my throat. "You’re not allowed to be tired, okay? You’re my twin. We’re supposed to grow old together." A small, almost imperceptible tear slid down his cheek, and my heart cracked in two. I wiped it away gently. "You’re not going anywhere, Eli. I swear it. I’m going to fix this." He closed his eyes again, and I was left sitting in silence, holding his hand, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me. The door opened quietly behind me, and a nurse stepped in, holding a clipboard. "Ms. Ava, we need to talk about your brother’s condition. The treatment he’s on isn't showing the expected results. Without the surgery, we have... less than a week." I stood, my heart sinking further. "I know. I know." She glanced at Eli, her face softening. "You’re running out of time, and we’re doing everything we can, but the surgery is the only option left. He’s getting weaker. If his organs begin to fail..." Her voice trailed off, and I nodded, unable to speak, too afraid that if I said the words aloud, they might become true. "I’ll get the money," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Somehow." The nurse gave me a sympathetic look, then left the room, closing the door behind her. I turned back to Eli, my mind racing. I couldn’t lose him. He was all I had left. --- FLASHBACK: THE PACK’S BETRAYAL I remember the night my parents died like it was yesterday. It was during a full moon. My parents, both omegas, had been part of a small pack. We were weak, small, and vulnerable, but we lived peacefully. That peace shattered the night the Alpha of the larger pack decided to take everything from us. He was ruthless, merciless. My parents were too kind, too weak to survive his wrath. The Alpha didn’t care about my parents’ pleas. They were nothing but pawns in his eyes. He killed them without a second thought—because they were omegas. Because they were weaker, because they weren’t valuable in his eyes. I was just a child. My brother and I had hidden in the shadows, watching the brutality unfold. The Omega who saved us that night was a mystery to me—she came out of nowhere, pulling us from our hiding place and running with us, carrying us away from the carnage. She wasn’t even a member of the pack. She was a stranger, a rogue Omega, but her strength was undeniable. She got us out, saving us from the massacre. That’s when my hatred for Alphas began. They were cruel, power-hungry monsters who would stop at nothing to gain more territory, more influence, and more power. The loss of my parents was a scar that could never heal. And the fact that the very pack they once called home had turned against them was a reminder of how unforgiving this world could be for those who were weak. --- PRESENT DAY My hands clenched into fists. I had always vowed to never rely on anyone—especially not an Alpha. They were the ones who took everything from me. I looked at Eli, sleeping so peacefully, unaware of how badly I was breaking inside. The thought of him being taken from me was unbearable. "Just hold on, Eli," I whispered, brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead. "I swear, I’ll get you through this." I took a deep breath, my mind already calculating the impossible. The money. The surgery. I would do anything to save my brother.Damian’s POV The cuffs rattled again, a jarring symphony of steel and desperation, as she pulled instinctively against them, a fragile bird thrashing against its gilded cage. Her breath came in short, panicked bursts beneath me, ragged gasps that tore at the silence of the room. Her eyes—wide, wild, glassy with unshed tears and a primal, unadulterated terror—darted frantically between my face, a mask of unyielding intent, and the gleaming chain that stretched taut above her head, as though even now, in this absolute moment of capture, she was still searching for an escape route, a sliver of hope. There wasn’t one. Not anymore. There never truly had been. I dragged my fingers down her bare ribs, feeling the delicate tremble of her flesh beneath my touch, leaving faint, red lines in their wake—a temporary brand, a precursor to the deeper marks I intended to leave. I savored the way her entire body shivered, a tremor that rippled through her, signaling her unwilling submission. “You
Damian’s POV Her silence when I told her to undress was deafening, a stark contrast to the furious roar of my own blood in my ears. It wasn't the silence of defiance, not truly, but a fragile, terrified stillness. Her hands, though trembling visibly, moved slowly, reluctantly, to the delicate buttons of her blouse. One by one, each button released felt like a small, agonizing victory, a concession wrung from her unwilling spirit. And yet, it wasn't enough. Not nearly. Her defiance still lingered in the air, a subtle, almost imperceptible scent that mingled with her fear. Even as she stood there, stripped down to nothing but her thin lace underthings—a delicate, almost transparent barrier against my gaze—her eyes were still bright with unshed tears, glistening like polished stones. And in their depths, I could still discern it: that little spark of rebellion, that infuriating unwillingness to fully submit, to truly break. It infuriated me. A hot, sharp surge of rage that clawed at
Damian's POV “You needed air,” I repeated mockingly, my voice laced with venom, my hand shooting out to grip her chin hard, forcing her face up, tilting it brutally to meet my gaze. “Or you needed another man to breathe for you, to tell you you weren’t mine, to offer you a false freedom?” Tears welled in her eyes, glistening, spilling over and tracing paths down her pale cheeks, but she didn’t look away. Her gaze, though brimming with terror, held a stubborn defiance, a spark of the wild wolf within her. I hated her for it—hated the resistance, hated the tears, hated the fact that she could still feel something other than submission. And yet, I admired her for it, for that infuriating, persistent spark that made her a challenge, not just a conquest. It was a dangerous, contradictory pull that always seemed to complicate my emotions when it came to her. My thumb brushed roughly over her lower lip, savoring the subtle tremor, before I finally let her go, releasing her chin with
Damian’s POV I stood at the bottom of the grand staircase, my gaze locked on her retreating form. Each slow, deliberate step she took, her hand gripping the polished banister so tightly her knuckles were white, her shoulders stiff with forced composure, did nothing to calm the raw, visceral storm that churned inside me. If anything, her pathetic show of resistance only fueled it, igniting a deeper, more primal rage. My jaw clenched so tight it ached, a dull, persistent throb. My knuckles still pulsed beneath the hastily applied bandage Ava had wrapped around them earlier—too tight at first, then trembling, hesitant, as she tried to fix the damage I had wrought. The rough, masculine scent of the office, tainted with the faint, metallic tang of James’s blood, still clung to my skin, a constant reminder of my unchecked fury. I hadn’t even bothered to bandage them properly after slamming that sniveling coward into the floor, hearing the sickening crunch of his jaw snapping under my
Ava's POVI froze, my feet rooted to the spot, a sudden paralysis seizing me. Every instinct screamed at me to turn and run, to disappear into the labyrinth of the city. “Now, Ava.” His voice was sharper this time, a cold, hard command that cut through my paralysis. My fingers curled into fists, my nails digging into my palms, as I forced myself forward, one heavy step after another. Sliding into the cool, silent leather seat felt like stepping into a cage, the latch clicking shut behind me with a sickening finality. I was trapped. Again. Oliver didn’t speak as the door shut, plunging the interior into a suffocating gloom, and the SUV lurched back into motion, smoothly accelerating through the city streets. The silence that filled the car was worse than any shouted words could’ve been, thick with unspoken knowledge, with his unspoken wrath. Oliver’s face in the rearview mirror was a grim, unreadable mask. I didn’t dare look at him. I didn’t dare ask if he’d seen what Damian lo
Ava’s POV The city streets, usually a vibrant tapestry of noise and motion, were unnervingly quiet at this hour, a stark contrast to the chaotic turmoil churning within me. And yet, despite the relative silence, the air still felt heavy—suffocating—as though his pervasive presence was chasing me, clinging to my very skin, even here, miles from his watchful eyes. I pulled my thin coat tighter around myself, the fabric offering no real comfort against the biting chill that had settled deep in my bones, a cold knot of dread that now resided permanently in my chest. My heels clicked against the cracked, uneven sidewalk, each sharp sound a frantic drumbeat against the quiet, urging me faster, urging me to outrun the inevitable. I hadn’t meant to leave the office like that. Not really. It was an impulsive, desperate act. But when his voice had barked my name over the intercom earlier, the sound rattling through my office, summoning me, when I remembered the way his hand had bled, th