His Purchased Omega

"Finally getting rid of that useless Omega upstairs," his father snorts, clinking glasses with his guests like they were sealing a business deal. "Little shit's been a drain since his mother died. But tonight? He'll pay my debts in full."

Julian's stomach drops where he's pressed against the worn out wooden doors.

He knows the men downstairs are not the usual low-life gamblers his father keeps company with. These voices carry the kind of danger that makes your hair stand on end.

One of the stranger's voices reaches him. "You understand that Enzo Moretti doesn't take refunds? Once the deal's done, your boy belongs to him forever."

Julian's blood runs cold.

*Enzo Moretti.* The name alone sends ice sliding down Julian's spine. He has heard it whispered in dark corners of his father's gambling shop–owner of one of the city's largest firearms trade networks, rumored to be one of the biggest supporters of auctions and private clubs where desperate families sell their Omegas.

Enzo is said to be as ruthless as he was powerful: a dominant Alpha with unstable pheromones that turned him feral during ruts.

Even his loyal staff are said to avoid his penthouse when the strongest episodes hit. Omegas who entered his world often disappeared.

Julian's hands tremble. He pictures endless nights of being used and discarded–a virgin Omega's worst nightmare.

His father's voice rises again, smug. "He's untouched, you know? Twenty and still sweet. That should sweeten the price."

"Untouched Omegas are rare, especially male ones," another man rumbled. "Enzo's been looking for a new toy after the last one… broke. But you say he's recessive? I'm not sure Mr. Moretti would want him."

"You say he gets triggered by harsh scents?" his father cut in eagerly, pitching him like he's trying to pitch a business deal. "Then the boy's perfect–sweet, tamed, and scentless."

The man pauses. "Enzo doesn't like surprises, Ruiz. This Omega better be worth the debt forgiveness. Recessive or not, if he triggers the boss…"

"He won't," his father assures them. "I've broken him enough. You have my word."

The men look between themselves, skeptical, before they finally nod in agreement. "Fine. We'll take him. Have him prepared by morning."

Glasses clinked again, sealing Julian's fate like a sick joke.

He backs away silently, bare feet cold on the tiles, bile rising in his throat.

The wall clock reads 2:17 a.m. Dawn was hours away, but if he could escape now– they would never find him.

Julian slips into his tiny bedroom–the cracked window, narrow bed, and the peeling dresser staring back at him like some sick joke.

He doesn't hesitate. He pries open a drawer and grabs his mother's necklace: the delicate silver chain with its small green pendant, the last piece of her he had left.

From his father's jacket hanging in the hallway, he steals thick wads of gambling cash and stuffs them into his hoodie. No bag. No extra clothes. Just his sneakers pulled on without socks.

Nothing that can slow him down.

He pushes the window open, making the men upstairs pause. He hears them curse under their breaths, then heavy footsteps climbing up the stairs.

He doesn't wait. He practically throws himself through the window and drops hard, his ankle bending on impact.

"Shit!" He groans as pain shoots up his leg. “This is the fucking worse timing!”

He shoves the window shut and limps down the narrow passage, dodging overflowing dumpsters. Behind him, the front door slams open. Followed by a set of angry footsteps.

"Julian! You little bastard, get back here!"

‘Like shit you fucking bastard‘ he mumbles to himself, cutting into the dark alleyway a few blocks away. And by some miracle, he makes it quite far without his father or the other men catching him.

Far enough that the streets start to go eerily quiet. Julian almost thinks he's escaped–until three Alphas step out, blocking his path.

They stink of alcohol and lust.

"Well, what do we have here?" one slurs. "Running from something, little Omega?"

Julian slowly backs up. One he can try to take, but three huge Alphas? "Stay away from me!"

Of fucking course they don't back up. If anything they come closer, laughing.

One grabs his jaw. "Looks sweet, and look–he’s unmarked. Bet he'd taste even better."

They slam him against a brick wall, dragging his jeans and underwear down. Their combined dominant scents hit him hard, weakening his knees despite his recessive nature. For the first time in years, his own pheromones leak in fear, egging them on more.

Julian tries to fight, kicking and biting, but it's useless against three of them. “Hold him down. This won't take long."

A black SUV screeched to a halt nearby, making them pause. They turn to growl at the interruption, but freeze.

A tall, broad figure steps out. Power rolling off him in terrifying waves. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs in tailored pants. Rolled-up sleeves reveal tattooed forearms, and his eyes are a cold shade of silver.

The eyes blow wide. "What's Enzo fucking doing here?"

Julian's breath hitches. *This* Is Enzo Moretti? He'd been expecting some old fat man with too much facial hair.

But this… this man is more like a model than a mafia king– extremely handsome, young but terrifying all at once.

Enzo feels his gaze, and his eyes fall on Julian, then down his half naked frame.

Julian's cheek heats, and he forces his gaze away.

His scent–released from earlier, still lingering in the air– reaches Enzo. His nose twitches as he takes in the faint vanilla scent.

His expression shifts, from annoyance to hunger-- but not crazed like the men behind him.

Darker, greedier.

"Get off him," Enzo commands. He doesn't need to shout, his pheromones do the talking.

The Alphas hesitate, reluctant to get away from the sweet omega they've caught. But finally they step back, muttering curses.

Julian tries to yank his jeans up with trembling hands, refusing to meet Enzo's piercing silver eyes as he walks closer.

Enzo approaches, eyes dark as he towers over Julian. His eyes rakes over Julian's beautiful face, the green eyes and lean body instantly catch his attention. Then it drops– eyes trailing his cock slowly. Jlian quickly zips up.

The mafia's face folds into a devilish smirk that makes Julian's heart race, despite the fear running down his spine.

He also realizes that Enzo doesn't seem to recognize him as his new purchase yet. He thinks he's just a random Omega on the streets.

Just as he'd thought, Enzo pulls out a thick wad of cash--more than Julian has ever seen in his life-- and holds it out.

"Spend the night with me." He says it so casually, like he’s asking for the time, "One night. I'll make it worth your while and give you much more if you're good."

Julian blinks at the offer, stunned. Who the fuck just hands a random man cash to sleep with them?

He stands slowly, ignoring the pain in his legs and shoulders.

He just needs to get the fuck away from here before Enzo finally realizes who he is.

"I-I can't." He meets Enzo's eyes, completely certain now that the bastard doesn't know who he is. "And I don't want your money."

Enzo surprisingly isn't offended by the refusal, he just chuckles darkly.

"I apologize if it sounded like I was asking your opinion."

Enzo turns around, signaling for his men to call the other group of Alphas back.

What the fuck–

Julian had thought he'd escaped, but he's apparently just walked straight into the arms of the man he was trying to avoid.

"Pick. It's either them, or me, tonight.”