Nero's POV,
I pushed myself back against the wall, chest still rising and falling too fast. My arms were wrapped tight around my legs, but it wasn't helping. Every muscle was tense, ready to snap. I glared at Lucius, even as my body continued to tremble like I'd just been pulled out of fire.
Lucius stood across the room, his lip still bleeding from where I bit him. He stared at me with unreadable eyes—cold and assessing, like I was a riddle he didn't like the answer to.
"You," he said after a moment, his voice low and slow, "have some nerve."
I didn't answer. I just kept glaring.
"I've been nothing but considerate," he continued, walking a few steps forward. "Most would've taken you the moment you were bought. I gave you space. Restraint. Don't mistake that for weakness."
My grip tightened. "You're insane. I don't want to speak to you anymore."
He actually laughed. A humorless, bitter sound. "Do you think you can decide that?"
I flinched when he took another step closer.
He paused, eyes narrowing. Then he just growled under his breath and turned away. "Ungrateful little wretch."
The door slammed hard behind him, echoing through the stone walls like a slap. I stayed there for a moment, hugging myself, my heart pounding against my ribs. Eventually, I crawled back onto the bed and let exhaustion drag me down again.
When I woke, the room was dark. No footsteps. No growling alphas. Just the quiet hum of night. I sat up slowly, blinking toward the door when I heard it creak open.
I tensed—until I saw her.
The same maid from before. The one who'd helped me escape. She slipped inside quietly, carrying a small tray of food, and closed the door behind her.
She placed the tray on the bed. "I brought dinner… well, something warm at least."
I relaxed a little, shifting to sit cross-legged on the mattress. "Thanks. You didn't have to."
She hesitated before sitting on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"
I gave a weak shrug. "Scared. Confused. Pretty sure I'm going insane, honestly. I don't even know what's going on anymore."
Her face softened with guilt. "If I hadn't helped you escape, none of this would've happened."
"No—no, hey," I cut in quickly. "I asked you to help me. You did what I begged for. Don't stress over me, alright? You don't owe me anything."
She lowered her head, brushing a loose curl from her face. "Still…"
I glanced down at the tray, poking at the bread and stew. "Actually, maybe you could help with something else. What… exactly are alphas and omegas? I've been hearing it nonstop since I woke up in this place."
She blinked at me like I'd just grown a second head. "Did you… lose your memory after passing out?"
I gave a small, unsure smile. "Let's go with that."
She exhaled slowly, then nodded. "Well… It's not that complicated. Alphas and omegas are just secondary natures—kind of like soul markings gifted by the moon god. Alphas are typically dominant and strong. They often lead packs, cities, or noble families. But omegas… we're…" she hesitated, then continued, "we're seen as weaker. Our scent tends to attract alphas… usually."
I raised a brow. "Usually?"
She nodded again, slower this time. "You… repel them."
I blinked. "Wait, what?"
"You, Nael. Your scent. It's different. Most alphas can't stand to be near you. It triggers headaches, nausea… makes them violently ill sometimes. It's why no one ever bonded with you."
I sniffed my arm subtly. "But I smell fine."
She stifled a laugh. "Not to yourself. It's not about personal hygiene—it's pheromonal."
That word made my stomach twist.
Pheromonal. Alphas. Omegas. This was… that kind of world.
"Oh god," I muttered under my breath. I transmigrated into one of those weird secondary-gender fantasy worlds. Heat cycles. Bond marks. Power imbalance. I rubbed my temples. "And by the looks of it, I'm a fricking omega."
She tilted her head. "Well… yeah."
I looked up at her. "Speaking of which. Heats. Um. How do those work?"
Her expression turned gently amused. "Don't worry. Yours hasn't come yet. Most omegas experience their first real heat at twenty. You're only nineteen, so you still have time to prepare."
I swallowed hard. "Right. Time. Awesome."
She lowered her voice. "Not that it matters much. Because of your… history and scent, most alphas avoid you anyway."
"So I'm not just cursed, I'm also pheromone-repellent," I muttered. "Perfect. Love that for me."
She gave me a sad smile, stood up, and said softly, "Try to eat. It helps. And sleep if you can."
I nodded slowly. "Hey… thanks again. For the food. And for talking."
She hesitated at the door. "You really don't remember anything… do you?"
I offered a weak smile. "No. But I think I'm starting to understand more than I want to."
And with that, she slipped out, leaving me alone again in this body, in this world… with way too many questions and a timeline counting down toward something I wasn't ready to face.
Days passed.
I couldn't keep count. There were no clocks in that stone room, no windows to mark time. Just candlelight, bland food, and the same cold sheets that clung to my skin every time I woke up drenched in sweat.
I was healing—barely.
The bruises were fading. My body wasn't on fire anymore. The ache in my limbs was more soreness than agony. But inside? That was different.
I felt like a stranger in my own skin, dragging around the ghost of someone else's life. A cursed omega named Nael with a scent that made people sick and a future everyone seemed to fear.
At least they weren't forcing any more drugs down my throat. For now.
Lucius hadn't spoken to me since the kiss. He hadn't apologized either—not that I expected him to. But I knew he was watching.
Every damn day, I felt his presence. Standing by the doorway, arms folded, silent as a stone wall. Sometimes I'd pretend to sleep just to avoid his eyes. But when I peeked, he'd still be there. Still staring.
It was like being studied. Observed. Like he was trying to find the cracks in me before I even knew where they were.
I hated it.
But what scared me more was that a part of me—some cursed, warped part—was starting to grow used to it.
One morning—if I could even call it that—a maid dressed me in a thick, high-collared tunic that clung too tightly to my frame and handed me a pair of polished boots I didn't ask for.
I frowned. "What's the occasion? My execution?"
She didn't answer. She just muttered something about "orders from the Alpha King" and left me alone with the outfit and a knot forming in my stomach.
A short while later, the door creaked open. Footsteps—calm, measured, annoyingly familiar—approached.
Lucius.
Of course.
I didn't bother looking at him. I just sat on the bed, still barefoot, fiddling with the cuff of the shirt like it might bite me.
"You're well enough to walk," he said after a long silence. "Good. We're leaving."
That got my attention.
I looked up slowly. "Leaving?"
He nodded once. "The High Council expects you."
"Wait—what? Why?"
"They wish to see the cursed omega I purchased from the capital auction. Some have… questions."
"Great. Questions." I scoffed and dropped the boot I hadn't put on yet. "Let me guess. They're gonna ask if I'm contagious or if I'll explode under moonlight."
He didn't smile. He never did.
"You will come. Quietly."
I stood up, arms crossed. "Or what? You'll chain me again? Drug me? Toss me back in that heat box?"
His jaw tightened ever so slightly.
"I need you alive," he said. "Preferably intact. For now."
"Oh, well that's comforting."
He turned away, already walking toward the door.
I stared after him, stomach twisting. Something told me this wasn't just a formal introduction. The way he moved—the stiffness in his shoulders, the sharpness in his voice—he was nervous.
Lucius Daren. Alpha King. Nervous.
And for what? Me?
I didn't understand anything anymore.
But I knew one thing: whatever this council was, whatever they planned to say or do—I wouldn't go down easy.