Eren stepped out of Ulrick's building, his mind still tangled with the day's events. He nearly stumbled when he spotted them—his parents—standing stiffly by a dark van, eyes locked on him like predators waiting for prey.
"Mom? Dad?" His voice cracked with disbelief.
They didn't answer. Instead, his father strode forward in long, furious steps and seized Eren's wrist in a bruising grip.
"Wait—you're hurting me!" Eren hissed, tugging against his father's iron hold.
The security guard on duty noticed the commotion and immediately stepped closer. "Excuse me, what's happening here?" His voice carried authority, but there was hesitation in his eyes as he sized up the situation.
"We're his parents," Eren's mother snapped, her tone sharp enough to cut. "Family business. Stay out of it."
The guard glanced at Eren, clearly torn. But before he could decide, Eren's mother leaned in, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper meant only for him. "Stop resisting, Eren. Do you want all these strangers watching you act like some desperate Omega? Don't disgrace yourself here."
Eren froze, shame and dread washing through him. He knew too well she wasn't bluffing. She had humiliated him in public before. His father's grip on his wrist tightened, dragging him forward with brutal finality.
"Good. You know how to listen," his father muttered, shoving him toward the van.
Eren climbed in, his chest tight, his silence a fragile shield. The ride stretched on in suffocating quiet, broken only by the hum of the tires and the pounding of his own heart. His mind raced with questions, fear clawing at him from every side.
When the van rolled to a stop, Eren looked out the window—and his stomach plummeted. The sharp tang of salt filled his nose. Boats bobbed against weather-worn piers, ropes creaking in the wind.
"No…" His voice was a whisper, raw with panic. "Why are we here?"
His mother's cold gaze met his. "Don't play stupid. There's only one way back to the island."
Eren's chest tightened. He straightened in his seat, summoning a strength he barely felt. "I'm not going back."
Her laugh was short and mocking. "Not going back? What, because of him?" Her lip curled. "Because of the Ulrick money? Or because the Alpha who ruined you has you believing you've got a place by his side?"
"I'm not—" Eren began, but his father cut him off with a growl.
"You've already shamed us once by marrying that man. Don't think we'll let you betray us a second time." His words landed like blows, each one twisting the knife deeper.
"That's not true!" Eren's voice cracked, raw with emotion. "Adriel has been more of a family to me than either of you ever were." His chest heaved, the words tumbling out like a wound he could no longer hide. Tears pricked his eyes, but he refused to look away.
The air between them went taut. His mother's lips curled, venom sharp in her voice. "Family? That man doesn't care about family. If he did, he wouldn't be trying to steal the island—the place you were born. He'll gut it for profit and leave nothing but ashes."
"Destroy it?" Eren shot back, his hands trembling but his voice fierce. "You never even gave him a chance to explain. You just shut your ears and decided he was the enemy."
"We don't listen to men like him," his father said flatly. His eyes were cold steel, cutting Eren down without effort. He shoved the van door open with a rough hand and climbed out, his posture rigid with authority. His wife followed, her movements clipped and sharp with disdain.
Eren flinched when his father yanked him out next, fingers biting cruelly into his arm. "Ouch—!" The cry escaped before he could bite it back, his Omega instincts coiling in panic. He wanted to pull away, to run, but the weight of their authority pressed down on him like chains.
"Stop being so dramatic," his mother snapped, glaring at him as though his pain were nothing but a nuisance.
But Eren planted his feet on the pier, salty wind whipping his hair into his face. He tore his arm free and took a shaky step back, chest heaving. "No. I'm not going back to the island. This is my life now, and I'm not returning with you."
His father's glare hardened. His mother's voice turned razor-sharp. "You'll go back whether you like it or not. And that farce of a marriage—" she spat the word like poison—"will be annulled."
"Annul it?" Eren's heart slammed against his ribs. "Why? It was my decision to marry him. It's not your place to—"
The slap cracked through the air like a gunshot.
Eren's head whipped to the side, his cheek burning with a fiery sting. The sound of it seemed to echo off the waves below. For a moment, the world blurred—wind, salt, and the sharp metallic tang of blood at the corner of his lip.
His eyes widened, not just from the pain but from the disbelief. He lifted a trembling hand to his cheek, staring at his mother as if seeing her for the first time.
Her face was hard, unflinching. "You've shamed us long enough," she said coldly. "It ends tonight."
"How long will you keep being this stubborn?" his mother snapped, her voice vibrating with barely contained rage.
"Why do you want me to go back to the island?" Eren's voice broke as the words spilled out, raw with desperation. Tears blurred his vision, and his throat tightened. "You know the people there hate me! Do you even realize—"
The rest of his plea was silenced by the sharp crack of her hand across his face. The slap was harder than the first, so fierce that his head jerked to the side. A searing sting spread across his cheek, and a metallic tang filled his mouth. His tears came harder, streaming hot down his face.
"Be quiet and come with us," his mother commanded, her voice cold and final, like an Alpha's order that left no room for disobedience. Her fingers dug into his wrist, punishingly tight, and began yanking him toward the docked boat.
Eren stumbled after her, each step heavy with dread. His Omega instincts screamed at him to recoil, to run, but his father's looming presence on his other side cut off every escape. The bitter scent of his own fear hung sharp in the air, and humiliation twisted in his gut at being dragged like a child in plain view of the pier.
Why? Why now? They had cast him aside before, made it clear he wasn't welcome among them or the islanders. Yet suddenly, they were desperate—almost frantic—to haul him back. Something wasn't adding up. His mother's nails bit into his skin as she pulled him closer to the boat, and the ominous churn in his stomach deepened. This wasn't about family, or love, or even shame. No—their determination reeked of something else. Of control. Of a plan he wasn't meant to understand until it was too late.