Suppression Zone- Sector IV. Status: Active.
Temperature: Cold. Scent: Neutralized.
The walls were white, clean, and silent. So silent it hurt.
Ian sat on the edge of the cot, back straight, wrists resting on his knees like they told him. His breath misted faintly in the cold air, but his skin burned underneath the gown they gave him-itchy fabric, scentless soap, no name.
Only a number: Omega-017-E.
He hadn't cried. Not when the March System rejected him. Not when the officers came in white gloves and told him he had no match .Not even when they took his scent away.
But tonight, something was wrong.
Something was changing.
His palms were slick. His pulse had tripled. His stomach was tight, too tight, as though a fire had lit somewhere deep inside his body and couldn't get out. Ian leaned forward, gripping the edge of the bed, and swallowed hard. He tasted something strange in his own mouth; metal, wildness, instinct.
"You were supposed to be suppressed," said the system voice overhead.
"Do not move. Remain neutral."
Ian chocked on a gasp as heat surged through his spine. His glands throbbed. His neck itched. His vision blurred at the corners.
No. No, no, no. Not now.
"ERROR DETECTED. Omega-017-E displaying unexpected heat symptoms. Initiating secondary injection"
He bolted to his feet.
Too late.
His scent exploded into the air like wildfire; sharp, sweet, and impossible to erase. The room's vents hissed. Red lights blinked. The scent scrubbers failed.
...
In a building across the city, someone opened their eyes in bed.
Kyle.
His rut had been dormant for years, broken since the day system rejected his last pairing. But now, something crashed through his chest like a call he couldn't ignore. His body snapped awake, breath ragged, skin cold.
There you are, he thought, rising from the sheets.
My Omega.
...
Far from the suppression zone, inside a sealed monitoring chamber above the city's outer ring, a lone Beta stood unmoving. His uniform bore the silver lines of the Enforcement Division, not flashy like the Alphas, nor muted like the Omegas but efficient, clean and unfeeling.
Officer Calen, a high-tier Beta and one of the system's best trackers, reviewed the anomaly data with a clinical eye.
"Unmatched omega...scent breach...unauthorized flare." His voice was soft but sharp, like a scalpel.
His screen flickered. Ian's face flashed briefly before the system pixelated it as if ashamed.
"An error?" he murmured. "No. A deviation."
He tapped a command. Orders locked in. Suppression was no longer enough.
"I'll find it myself."
...
The door clicked open.
Boots echoed against the floor. Three alphas stepped inside, the air thickening instantly with their heat and scent. Ian didn't raise his head. He was curled against the wall, gown torn at the shoulder, a faint tremble in his limbs he couldn't quite hide.
One of them chuckled.
"Such a soft little thing," he murmured. "What's someone like you doing in a cage like this?"
The second alpha crouched down slowly, fingers brushing the floor just inches from Ian's knee. "You feel that?" he whispered. "Your body's already reacting."
Ian flinched.
The third moved behind, close enough that Ian could hear the intake of breath right above his neck.
"Let's see how sweet the vine tastes," the first one said, licking his lips.
A hand reached out. Fingers grazed Ian's arm.
CRACK.
The wall behind them exploded with a thud as one of the alphas was thrown into it, ribs crunching on impact.
Before the others could react, the second alpha was seized and lifted clean off the floor. A solid punch cracked his jaw sideways, sending him into the ground.
The third turned to fight, but too late.
A shadow moved through the dim room fast calculated, brutal.
Two swift strikes. One to the throat. One to the gut.
Silence.
All three were down.
Ian's eyes were squeezed shut, his hands tight around his knees. He only opened them when the last body hit the ground with a dull thump.
And then he saw him.
Standing just ahead. Still breathing steady not even a mark on him. All-black uniform, gloves soaked in blood, chest rising slowly beneath a tight vest.
His face-sharp lines, unreadable. Eyes like steel, watching Ian not with pity, but possession. command and authority.
Alpha.
But this one was different. This one radiated something colder and deeper.
Ian felt it.
He swallowed.
The figure didn't speak. Just stepped closer.
And Ian against all logic didn't retreat.
He felt like prey, but not to be eaten.
To be claimed.
...
A bank of monitors flickered in the dimly lit room, each screen capturing different angles of the chamber where the altercation had just unfolded. Static crackled briefly, then cleared. Operators leaned closer, scanning the grainy feed. A figure; unregistered, masked stood amidst sprawled bodies, untouched, commanding.
A low echoed through the central speaker system, sharp and clipped.
"We know what you are. Your presence is not in our database. You're not authorized. Identify yourself."
No answer.
The masked figure tilted his head slightly, as if amused by the voice. His hands remained loose at his sides, but tension rippled through the screen.
Another voice more mechanical, colder this time followed.
"Unknown. Power levels unstable. Movement classified as irregular. Possible hybrid. Proceed with caution."
One of the senior enforcers stepped forward toward the speaker's mic. His voice held more authority.
"We won't ask again. Identify yourself. You are violating protocol nine-nine-seven.
Surrender immediately or we will use force."
There was silence. Then the masked figure turned his head toward the nearest surveillance orb eyes hidden beneath black mesh.
A single, calm voice broke through the feed.
"I'm taking him with me."
A pause.
His hands pointed unshaking, direct toward Ian.
Alarms shrieked through the corridors, flashing red lights pulsing like a heartbeat on the brink. Voices barked commands over the speakers, overlapping with the thunder of boots. Ian lay on the floor, disoriented, hands trembling as the noise closed in like a storm. A shadow stepped through the chaos unbothered, steady. Then, just before the darkness swallowed him, Ian felt it.
A strange warmth.