Aden POV
The stench of stale beer and dried sweat clung to the bleachers of the Jork University Arena. I crushed another empty aluminum can and tossed it into my trash bag. Fifty bucks. That was what a day of cleaning up after the Black Moon Pack’s young Warriors got me.
Tomorrow was my eighteenth birthday—the day I prayed the Moon Goddess would finally grant me my *Inner Wolf*. But right now, I was just a "wolfless" Omega. I had no scent, no strength, and no respect. I was the bottom of the food chain. Still, I swallowed my pride and picked up another sticky cup. I needed the money. Sylvia’s birthday was coming up, and I wanted to buy her that silver necklace she’d been eyeing. She was the only one in this brutal world who didn't look at me like I was a disease.
The heavy double doors of the locker room banged open, shattering my thoughts.
Brennon Collins strutted out, flanked by his gang of Warriors. The air instantly thickened with their aggressive, musky pheromones—the scent of pure, unadulterated Alpha-complex arrogance.
"Hey, Omega!" Brennon barked.
Before I could turn, a foul-smelling, sweat-soaked sock hit me square in the face. The Warriors erupted into mocking laughter.
"Smell that?" Brennon sneered, dumping a massive pile of filthy, week-old gym clothes at my feet. "That’s what a real wolf smells like. Wash these, wolfless waste."
I clenched my jaw, my fingernails digging into my palms. Deep within my chest, a strange, dark heat flared—a violent, heavy pulse that felt entirely too big for my scrawny body. I forced it down, taking a slow breath. *For Sylvia,* I reminded myself.
"Fifty bucks," I muttered, staring at the floor.
Brennon scoffed. He pulled a crumpled fifty-dollar bill and a five from his pocket, letting them flutter onto the dirty floor right next to my worn-out sneakers. "There’s a package at the front gate for Dixon. Bring it to the Warriors' Changing Room. Consider the five a tip for being such a good little scentless puppy."
They shoved past me, their laughter echoing in the empty arena. I knelt, my knees touching the sticky floor, and picked up the cash.
Ten minutes later, with Dixon Cooper’s package tucked under my arm, I stood outside the Warriors' Changing Room. It was a semi-sacred space for the Pack's fighters, a place an Omega like me was strictly forbidden to enter. The air seeping from beneath the heavy oak door was thick with the scent of leather and male musk.
I raised my hand to push the door open, but a sound from inside froze the blood in my veins.
A muffled, breathy moan.
It was followed by a low, rumbling growl—a sound vibrating with dark, possessive Alpha energy. My heart dropped into my stomach. I knew that moan. I had heard it whispered against my neck just last night.
I leaned closer to the wood, my breath catching in my throat.
"Oh, Dixon..." Sylvia’s voice panted, laced with a sickeningly sweet submission I had never heard from her before. "You're a real Alpha. Not like that scentless, wolfless puppy..."
A wet, slapping sound echoed against the lockers.
"I can't wait until we can finally tell everyone he was just a stupid bet," she giggled, the sound driving a physical spike through my chest.
The world stopped spinning. Two years. Every extra shift I worked, every humiliation I swallowed to buy her gifts, every time I thought I actually meant something to someone—it was all a joke. A cruel, calculated bet to see how long she could string the pathetic Omega along.
The heartbreak shattered me, but it didn't leave an empty void.
Instead, a terrifying, volcanic fury erupted from the deepest marrow of my bones. It didn't feel like a human's anger. It felt ancient. Lethal. My vision edged with a predatory red haze.
Without thinking, I raised my leg and kicked the heavy oak door.
It exploded inward with a deafening crack, the metal hinges tearing from the wooden frame with a force I shouldn't have possessed. The door slammed violently against the concrete wall.
There they were. Dixon Cooper, the future Alpha of the Black Moon Pack, had my girlfriend pressed hard against the metal lockers. The air in the room was suffocating, thick with the sickening, slick scent of their mixed arousal. They froze, their eyes snapping toward the doorway to find me standing there, my fists trembling with a rage that was begging to be unleashed.
Aden POV
The heavy oak door rebounded off the concrete wall with a sickening thud, but the sound barely registered over the roaring in my ears.
"Sylvia?" My voice cracked, betraying the devastating tremor in my chest. I stared at the girl I had spent the last two years loving, the girl I had scrubbed floors to buy gifts for.
Dixon Cooper didn't even flinch. A cruel, arrogant smirk spread across his handsome face. Instead of stepping away, he pressed his hips harder against her, deliberately releasing a suffocating wave of his Alpha pheromones. The scent of dark pine and dominance flooded the small room, a heavy, invisible weight designed to force an Omega like me to my knees.
I fought the urge to submit, my eyes locked on Sylvia. I needed her to explain. I needed her to tell me this was a mistake.
But Sylvia didn't look guilty. She looked annoyed.
She rolled her eyes, running a manicured hand down Dixon's muscular chest. "Oh, grow up, Aden," she scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. She inhaled deeply, burying her face in the crook of Dixon's neck. "God, do you have any idea what a real wolf smells like? His Alpha aura makes my *Inner Wolf* purr. You?" She turned her gaze back to me, her eyes cold and empty. "You smell like nothing. Like a pathetic human."
The words felt like a silver blade twisting in my gut.
"Two years," I choked out. "You said you loved me."
Sylvia let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "I needed a real Alpha, Aden. Someone who can actually *Shift*. Someone who can give me the *Marking* and make me a Luna. Not a scentless, wolfless puppy. Did you honestly think I'd settle for the bottom of the pack? You were just a bet to see how long I could stomach a loser."
Every syllable shattered whatever was left of my heart. The illusion of love evaporated, leaving behind a cold, hollow void. But that void didn't stay empty for long. A dark, ancient heat began to claw its way up my throat—a violent, predatory fury that felt entirely too massive for my frail body.
Dixon chuckled, his eyes dropping to the package tucked under my trembling arm. "I see Brennon played his part perfectly. I told him to make sure you delivered my new cleats right on time."
My breath hitched. Brennon. The extra shift. The fifty bucks. It was all a meticulously crafted stage just to break me.
Dixon reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp fifty-dollar bill. He flicked his wrist, letting the money flutter to the damp tile floor between us.
"Here's your payment, Omega," Dixon sneered, his eyes flashing with a cruel, golden light. "Go buy some scent-blockers, so no one has to smell your weakness."
The thread of my sanity snapped.
With a guttural roar that tore my vocal cords, I lunged at him. I didn't care that he was a trained Warrior. I didn't care that he was the future Alpha. The volcanic rage boiling in my blood demanded violence.
But I was still just a wolfless boy.
Before my fist could even connect, Dixon moved with terrifying, supernatural speed. His fist buried itself into my stomach with the force of a freight train. All the air violently left my lungs. As I doubled over, his knee slammed upward into my jaw.
The world spun into a blur of pain and blinding white light. I crashed hard onto the cold, wet tiles, tasting copper and bile.
Before I could even gasp for air, a heavy combat boot slammed down on the side of my head, pinning my cheek to the filthy floor. The pressure was agonizing, grinding my jawbone against the ceramic.
"Did you really think you could touch me, you piece of trash?" Dixon spat, his weight pressing down harder.
I heard the squeak of a locker opening, followed by the sharp, chemical smell of a permanent marker. Dixon leaned down. I thrashed, trying to free myself, but his boot was an immovable anchor. Rough hands grabbed the collar of my cheap white T-shirt, pulling it taut.
The marker squeaked loudly against the fabric across my chest.
"There," Dixon said, finally lifting his boot. "Now everyone will know exactly what you are."
I lay there, gasping, my vision swimming. Dixon grabbed Sylvia's hand. She stepped over my legs without a second glance, her heels clicking against the floor.
"Stay away from my future Luna, Omega," Dixon warned, his voice echoing in the hallway. "Or next time, I'll break your neck."
The heavy oak door swung shut, leaving me alone in the suffocating silence. I forced my heavy eyelids open and looked down at my chest. Scrawled in thick, black ink across my heart were two words: *WOLFLESS LOSER*.
The fifty-dollar bill lay just inches from my bleeding face. Deep within my marrow, that strange, terrifying heat pulsed wildly, fighting against the cage of my flesh, waiting for the midnight of my eighteenth birthday.
Aden POV
I dragged my battered body up from the damp tiles of the Warriors' Changing Room. Every step back to my cramped dorm room felt like walking on shattered glass. The black ink on my chest—*WOLFLESS LOSER*—burned like a physical brand against my skin.
I locked the flimsy wooden door behind me and collapsed onto the thin mattress. The room was suffocatingly silent, smelling only of stale air and the bags of recyclable cans I hoarded in the corner.
Sylvia’s cruel laughter echoed endlessly in my skull. *Scentless, wolfless puppy... just a stupid bet.*
I wasn't crying over a lost love. I was suffocating under the crushing weight of my own pathetic existence. Two years of scrubbing floors, starving myself to buy her gifts, and swallowing my pride, only to prove I was exactly what they said I was: a bottom-feeder unworthy of a Mate. A strange, dark power churned deep within my veins, a violent heat that threatened to consume me, but I dismissed it as nothing more than the impotent rage of a broken Omega.
My phone buzzed against the cheap linoleum floor, jarring me from my misery. An unknown number flashed on the cracked screen.
With trembling, bloodied fingers, I swiped to answer.
"Aden," a woman's voice spoke. It was calm, elegant, and laced with an unquestionable, terrifying authority. "I am Evangeline. Your trial is over."
I froze, my breath catching in my bruised throat.
"You are a Sharpe," she continued, her tone smooth as silk. "A royal bloodline that bows to no Alpha. Everything you have endured was to awaken the Lycan dormant within you. You are coming home."
A bitter, hysterical laugh tore from my chest. A Lycan? A royal? It was the most absurd, sadistic script Dixon could have possibly written. They weren't done breaking me. They wanted to build me up with a fairy tale just to watch me crash back down into the dirt.
"Tell Dixon his joke isn't funny!" I roared, my voice cracking with raw agony. "Tell him he won!"
I didn't wait for her response. I hurled the phone across the room. It slammed into the wall and dropped to the floor. I curled into a tight ball, letting the darkness and physical exhaustion finally drag me under.
Morning light stabbed through the grimy window, waking me with a pounding headache. My jaw throbbed violently where Dixon's boot had pinned me. I groaned, rolling over to retrieve my battered phone from the corner. The screen was spider-webbed with new cracks, but it still worked.
There was a notification. Not a mocking text from Dixon or Brennon. A banking alert.
I blinked, my blurry eyes struggling to focus on the screen. I rubbed them, my heart suddenly stopping in my chest.
*Available Balance: $100,000,000.00.*
I stopped breathing. One hundred million dollars.
This couldn't be a prank. Dixon was rich, but the Black Moon Pack didn't have this kind of liquid cash to throw into a fake app interface. This was real. The cold, hard numbers stared back at me, violently clashing with the pathetic reality of my dorm room.
My hands shook violently as I dialed the unknown number from last night. It rang only once.
"I see the trust fund has been activated," Evangeline's voice answered, completely unbothered by my outburst the night before.
"Who... who are you?" I choked out, staring at the impossible string of zeros on my screen.
"I told you. I am your sister, Evangeline," she said, her tone as casual as if we were discussing the weather. "I will be returning to Jork tonight to see you. I just have to finish dealing with the North American Alpha King. He’s been a bit... disobedient lately."
The casual mention of disciplining an Alpha King—a being whose mere command could force an entire Pack to their knees—shattered the last remnants of my reality.
The phone slipped slightly in my sweaty grip. I looked down at my chest. The black marker was still there, but the despair that had chained me to the floor was evaporating. In its place, that ancient, dormant heat flared into a raging inferno, whispering promises of absolute power.
