Chapter 2

ZAYN

Anxiety gnawed at my gut like a festering wound as I stared at my reflection, transfixed by the haunted eyes staring back. I couldn't tear my gaze away, fearing that if I looked away, I'd lose my grip on reality.

For the first time in my life, the thought of stepping out of my room filled me with dread. Beyond the safety of these walls, the compound was crawling with guests – alphas, betas of esteemed packs, all gathered to celebrate my birthday and, more importantly, my mate-finding.

Four years of failure weighed heavily on me, and the pressure to succeed was suffocating.

I was paralyzed by the thought of facing the crowd, of being scrutinized by the very people I'd have to impress. What if I found my mate tonight? Would they sense my true nature – that I wasn't an Alpha, but a lowly Omega? The shame and humiliation would be crushing.

Would my father still claim me as his son, or would I be cast aside like a defective thing? Would he still consider me worthy to be his heir?

My mind was consumed by worst-case scenarios, hypothetical disasters that might never come to pass. So lost was I in my own fears that I didn't even notice my father's entrance.

"Hey, son," he grinned, coming to stand in front of me, blocking my reflection in the mirror.

"Father," I said, my voice tight as I stood rigidly still, my hands clasped behind my back.

I watched my father, the only parent I'd ever known, as he reached out to adjust my tie with a tenderness that made my heart ache.

I wished, not for the first time, that he could accept me for who I truly was – no pretenses, no masks. But the fear of his rejection kept me locked away, hiding my true self.

It wasn't the world's opinion that held me back; it was the fear of disappointing him, of losing his love and approval.

"Do you remember what I told you?" He asked, and I nodded my head frantically, not wanting him to repeat himself.

My father hated that.

"No mistake," I whispered, my fist clenched tightly as I dug my fingers into my palms, willing my legs not to buckle beneath me.

My father's face softened into a warm smile, and he nodded his head in approval. "You're my only son, the future of this pack," he said, his voice filled with expectation. "You can't afford to make mistakes."

Right.

No mistakes.

"Yes, sir," I swallowed the harsh grunt that wanted to escape my lips.

My father nodded, seamlessly shifting into business mode as he surveyed my room. Perfection was the bare minimum; anything less was unacceptable.

"I've invited all the key players," he said, his mind already on the strategic benefits of the night's events. "Whoever your mate is, she'll likely be influential. It'll be a boon for the pack's interests."

His gaze landed on my piano, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Fuck!

I had forgotten to trash it before leaving for school last weekend as my father had suggested.

"Things like that aren't good for you, son," he said, his voice tinged with disappointment as he turned to face me. "It's a distraction. You're the future leader of this pack – start acting like one and stop playing with toys."

His words stung, a harsh reminder that anything outside of academics was, in his eyes, a waste of time. I was relieved I had already asked the school to remove my sports activities from my records; otherwise, he would have undoubtedly demanded I quit those as well.

Forcing a smile, I maintained my composure. "'I'll ask the servants to remove it, Father. You won't find it here next time. I promise."

"I know you'll make me proud." My father said with a warm smile, patting my shoulder twice before walking towards the door.

As he reached the door, I held my breath, waiting for my father to exit so I could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

But my heart sank when he suddenly turned around, his voice cutting through my brief moment of respite.

"You should come out and greet our guests," he said, his tone firm. "The leaders of the East, North, and West are here, and I'm sure their children are eager to meet you. Put on a professional facade – show them you're better than they are."

"Yes, father." I said, flashing a warm smile.

As soon as my father left the room, I collapsed onto the nearest couch, relief washing over me. I let out a shaky breath and tugged at my tie, yanking it loose before tossing it aside.

"I'm going to lose my mind," I muttered, reaching under the couch for a bottle of whiskey.

I took a swig directly from the bottle, the amber liquid burning its way down my throat. If I had to face the guests and play the role of the perfect son my father demanded, I'd need a little liquid courage to get through it.

"When will he see me as a person, not a trophy?" I seethed, swigging from the bottle in a futile attempt to drown my frustration. When the liquor finally numbed me enough, I steeled myself for the charade ahead. I'd put on a smile and let my father parade me around like his prized possession until midnight, when the world would pause, waiting with bated breath for me to reveal my mate.

I shuffled to the window, parting the curtains with shaky hands. My gaze drifted upward, a desperate plea to the moon goddess: Take pity on me.

"Please," I whispered, with my eyes focused on the glowing moon.

A knock on the door startled me, and when I turned around, I watched the knob moved and then Czar walked in.

"Hey," I said, smiling.

"Hey." Czar let out a shy smile, looking down at my feet. "You're wearing the shoes I got for you."

"Of course," I said, beckoning him to come closer, handing him the bottle of whiskey. "I thought it would bring me luck."

"Hmm." Czar grumbled, nodding his head as he took a swing from the bottle. "I hope so."

I locked eyes with my best friend, watching as he took another swig before handing the bottle back to me. We passed it back and forth until it was drained, the liquor burning away our inhibitions.

As Czar tossed the empty bottle aside, I hesitated, weighing whether to confide in him. He was my closest friend, the one person who'd stand by me no matter what. Could I trust him with the truth?

"Do you know we just shared an indirect kiss?" I asked, gesturing at the empty bottle he had just discarded inside the bin.

I waited, studying his expression, wondering if he'd crack a joke or react with surprise. Then, the corner of his mouth curved into a knowing smile, and I relaxed, sensing he'd be okay with whatever I shared.

In that moment, I knew he wouldn't judge me – that he'd listen without bias, and offer his support without hesitation.

"It's time to go outside, your highness." Czar said, all professional, no hint of friendship or show me the sign of my best friend I just had a drink with.

But I understood what that meant, he was ignoring the question. Why? Did he also hated gay people that much? If Czar couldn't even make light of the idea of two men sharing indirect kiss, how would he react to me being an Omega?

Shoving everything to the back of my mind, I nodded my head. "Sure."

I watched Czar bolt out of my room, like he couldn't escape fast enough. My jaw clenched in frustration and anxiety. If Czar, my closest friend, struggled to handle the news, how would my father react?

"It's going to be fine," I whispered to myself, trying to calm my racing thoughts. I rubbed a soothing circle on my chest, adjusted my tie and jacket, and steeled myself to face what lay ahead.

As I walked out of my room, each step felt heavier than the last. My head spun, my breathing grew erratic, and the entire building seemed to tilt around me.

"This is not good. I can’t face them like this," I muttered, my insides churning like molten lava and my mouth feeling parched and fiery.

I clung to the wall for support, veering sharply left down a random corridor. My vision blurred, but I didn’t care, I just needed to escape the crowd. Any direction away from the guests felt like salvation.

It was better for me to show up late than to show up to the guests, looking like this.

A sweet scent wafted through the air, drawing me in like a magnet. I followed the fragrance, my senses heightened as I navigated through the dimly lit hallway. The scent grew stronger, and I found myself gravitating toward it like a moth to a flame.

As I turned a corner, I stumbled upon the garden, a place that held fond memories of my childhood. The scent seemed to emanate from my sister's rose bush, where a mysterious figure stood, their back to me.

The figure's tight black shirt showcased their broad shoulders and back muscles. Their hair was styled back, revealing a strong neck and jawline.

Their long hands were tucked away in their pants pockets, giving them a relaxed yet mysterious air. I couldn't help but be drawn to this enigmatic person, and the intoxicating scent that seemed to surround them.

A primal instinct roared to life within me, and a low, rumbling growl vibrated through my chest.

"Mate!" my wolf snarled, the word echoing in my mind like a battle cry.

As if sensing my wolf's claim, the stranger's head snapped around, their eyes locking onto mine with an unnerving intensity.

A single word spilled from their lips, husky and raw: "Mate!"

The moment our gazes met, reality seemed to warp and twist. My mind recoiled in horror as I took in the stranger's features—the sharp jawline, the piercing eyes, the chiseled physique. This couldn't be happening.

Fate couldn't be this cruel. My mate was supposed to be someone I loved, someone could I chose, not this... this person. The one I'd clashed with, the one I'd judged without a second thought.

Panic clawed at my chest, my breath catching in my throat as I struggled to process this impossible truth. How could the universe do this to me?

"Damario," I hissed, the name tasting like venom on my lips.

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks: Damario Bloodworth, the one person I'd rather avoid, was my mate.