MY BULLY PRESIDENT

The small, sterile vial felt cold against Thalynn’s thumb, a miniature glass fortress holding back the truth. His hand was steady, a deliberate tremor of adrenaline the only evidence of the fear that was a permanent resident beneath his skin. He was tucked into the cramped utility closet on the third floor of the Academy President’s wing—a location so audacious and highly trafficked during the day, it was the last place anyone would look for anyone hiding their secret.

He didn’t look like an Omega. He didn’t smell like one, either, not anymore.

The fluorescent bulb in the closet hummed, a low, mechanical buzz that mirrored the tension in Thalynn’s own chest. He stared at his reflection in the polished metal of the locker bank opposite, a quick, critical assessment. He saw the sharp jawline, the cool, dark eyes, the immaculate crease in his regulation Alpha-tier uniform—all components of Thalynn, the highly successful, ruthlessly competitive Alpha student. No softness. No vulnerability. Perfect.

He uncapped the vial of suppressant, a cocktail of chemicals that drowned the sweet, intoxicating scent of his true self beneath a dull, synthetic approximation of an Alpha’s pheromones. It was his lifeblood, his armor, and the ever-present sword of Damocles hanging over his head.

The needle glinted under the poor light. Thalynn located the injection site—high on his thigh, deep into the muscle, a spot hidden even when seated. He didn’t wince. Pain was just a reminder that he was alive, that he was fighting, that the lie was worth it. His mother’s fragile face flashed in his mind—the only motivation he ever needed.

For mom.

He pushed the plunger home, the liquid stinging as it dispersed. The effect was almost immediate. The frantic, nervous energy that had been building since his last dose hours ago began to recede. The subtle, nearly undetectable buzz of his latent Omega heat cycle, an internal clock constantly threatening to reset itself, quieted down. He inhaled deeply, testing. Only the sterile, metallic-ozone scent of the suppressants. The scent of a lie.

He was safe. For now.

The Alpha Academy was not merely a school; it was a crucible. It was the training ground for the nation’s future leaders, military commanders, and corporate titans. Only the strongest, most dominant Alphas survived the first year, and only the most relentless ever made it to the prestigious third year, where Thalynn currently resided.

The hallways were a maze of polished marble floors and stern, gothic architecture, designed to impress and intimidate. Every echo of a footstep was a declaration of status. Every locker slammed was a territorial threat. Pheromones, naturally, were the primary language—a constant, thick, competitive miasma of dominance, confidence, and aggression that would have sent any true Omega into a state of terrified submission.

Thalynn walked these halls, his posture straight, his eyes meeting every challenge without wavering. He moved with the practiced economy of a predator, taking up precisely the right amount of space. Too much swagger drew attention; too little suggested weakness. He had perfected the balance.

His latest challenge wasn't a difficult assignment or a physical test; it was a psychological endurance match against the Academy itself, personified by its most powerful student: Lucian.

Lucian, the Academy President, was an object lesson in Alpha perfection. Tall, with impeccably styled blond hair and eyes that seemed to hold the cold, hard glint of steel, he commanded respect not just through his rank, but through his very presence. His scent was a sharp, clean blend of cedar and something electric—a pheromone signature that announced unchallenged superiority.

Thalynn was heading toward the central quad for a mandatory assembly when he felt Lucian’s presence first—a subtle change in the dynamic of the crowded corridor, a sudden hush. Thalynn didn't look up, but his peripheral vision confirmed it: Lucian and his inner circle, including his best friend, Jax, were approaching.

"Thalynn," Lucian's voice cut through the background noise, flat and devoid of emotion, yet possessing a chilling undertone of command.

Thalynn stopped, turning slowly. He allowed a flicker of impatience to cross his face, a gesture of disrespect that only the most confident Alphas dared to display toward the President. "President Lucian. Something I can do for the student body?"

Lucian paused two feet away, invading Thalynn’s personal space—a classic Alpha dominance move. Lucian was testing him, as he always did. Thalynn held his ground, his heart rate steady, thanks to the suppressants.

"The proposal for the new student lounge is due by 1700 hours today," Lucian said, his eyes drilling into Thalynn's. "I've heard the rumors about its quality. I expect perfection, not just adequacy. Is that clear, Thalynn?"

It was a public jab, a subtle insinuation that Thalynn was slacking, that his work might be 'adequate' where Lucian demanded 'perfection.' Thalynn knew the proposal was impeccable, technically flawless, and superior to any other submission. Lucian simply wanted to remind everyone of the hierarchy.

Thalynn offered a curt, cold smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "Perfectly clear, President. I wouldn't have wasted your time otherwise." He gave the slightest, most fractional nod—a necessary formality, not a sign of submission—and then smoothly stepped around Lucian and continued on his way.

It was a small victory. He hadn’t flinched. He hadn’t lowered his gaze. He had responded with Alpha-level confidence. But the encounter had left a residue of adrenaline, a faint chemical burn he’d have to manage.