Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Everything You Think You Know About Alphas, Betas, and Omegas... Is a Lie.

In this Omegaverse, pheromones were just the biological starting point; over time, those differences stopped being spontaneous and became unbreakable rules.
What seems like “order” is, in truth, a structure designed to keep power in the hands of a few.

Society built a system based on the purity of castes: alphas and omegas rule and draw all the attention, while betas are pushed into invisibility — cheap labor, always replaceable.

No one remembers when it started or who decided it should be this way.
But everyone knows who upholds it.
And what must never be spoken aloud: impure bloodlines, forbidden mixes, hidden bonds...
Truths that could shake the very foundations of the system.

Postcards from a Sick Order

Boardroom. A beta walks in with the strongest strategy, but every eye turns to the omega with the charming smile.

Courtroom. An alpha accused of marking without consent is acquitted: “He was in rut,” the headlines say.

Alleyway. Two bodies found — an omega and a beta. Crime of passion or political cleansing?

The ideal alpha-omega couple isn’t always perfect.
There are silences forced and scars without visible marks.
Among betas, what should be shouted becomes a whisper.

Some bonds are celebrated.
Others are merely tolerated.
Many are simply hidden.

But there are connections born to defy the system.

Because if in death we are all equal,
it’s at the edges of power — when you hold it, or when you're farthest from it —
that the true darkness of humanity is revealed.

Chapter Text

Valentina had always believed that if the day ever came when she was dragged in front of the entire office—every pair of eyes fixed on her body, her dignity reduced to whatever spilled out of her overturned handbag—she'd be ready to defend herself.She was wrong.

Valentina—a beta—is a senior producer at Bruness Agency in Zurich, where alphas and omegas run the show:

Erick Hardmiers – CEO, alpha

Raffael Llochers – Business Director, alpha

Lorenzo Galoti – Accounts Director, omega

Miguel Stumpf – Production Director, alpha

On her floor, she also works with Alex (senior beta) and one intern.

Every August, the Christmas campaign turns the agency into a pressure cooker: shoots that were needed "yesterday," lightning-fast bids, locations that disappear within hours. Landing the perfect photographer or locking down the right billboards is a war fought in seconds.

Valentina keeps her distance from Accounts—nothing but omegas, masters of the patronizing stare—though she does have one regular contact there.

"Whoa, what's with the face? Haven't had breakfast?" she joked.

"Ha-ha-ha, you're hilarious," he shot back. "The neon lights for the Christmas board on the way to Ticino got axed."

"But I adjusted the budget! I even offered extra projects to the suppliers."

"Money isn't the issue."

"Let me guess—the animals don't like the lights."

"Exactly. The canton put a ban on them."

"The budget says they're motion-activated."

"Then you explain it to the client."

"They won't even look at me. So what now?"

"No idea. They'll be back in a month."

"They're going to take away our panel!"

"Out of my hands, Valentina."

At three p.m. another email lands: two more quotes—one photo shoot for a supermarket, plus a bank's Christmas campaign—both due tomorrow.

"Alex, I'll coordinate with the Accounts Barbies, then you help me with the costs, okay? If I can't finish, I'll close the spreadsheet at the airport."

"Another early morning, eh?" he grumbled. "And you know those in Accounts never stay past 7 p.m."

Valentina had requested Friday off five months ago; now everything is on fire.

Knock, knock.

"Come in."

"Bischoff, did you check the quotes?"

"Yes, boss. But I fly out today—I flagged it five months ago."

"Cancel it. I need those numbers."

"Ticket's paid and I leave tonight."

"Then pick one: trip or job," he laughed. "And copy me on everything."

She swallows rage and disgust. As she heads out, she tells her team:

"No one's replacing me. Sorry, guys—pulling an all-nighter."

"You're quitting?" Alex wailed. "They're gonna kill us! I'm gonna diiiie! Actually, I'm already dead!"

With a tight chest, Valentina writes her resignation letter, backs up files, schedules tasks, and minutes before seven drops the envelope on Miguel's desk.

"You're resigning? Nobody hires betas in peak campaign season. You should be grateful I put food on your table," he sneers.

She smiles and walks away, but Miguel grabs her; she shakes him off.

The agency spans two floors: production, editing, design, and post on the second; Accounts and the exec offices on the first. Miguel chases her downstairs, shouting for security.

In the conference room, they search her head to toe. Dump her bag. Inspect every item. The hallway buzzes with whispers. Biting her lip to hold back tears, Valentina repacks her things one by one—without trembling.

When she looks up, Erick and Raffael are there. Miguel seizes her arm again.

"Let go of me!"

"Thief!"

"What did I steal? Or does honest work scare you?"

Erick calls an immediate meeting. Valentina agrees—advertising is a small world, and if you don't know someone, someone knows you.

"I requested leave in advance. I can't cancel the trip. And we get pulverized here while others 'disconnect' for their biological cycles," she says.

"Betas are replaceable!" Miguel erupts.

"I know my rights. Either I come back to a fair deal or I wait for my severance," she answers.

Miguel lunges again; Valentina wrenches his wrist. Dead silence.

"We'll call you," Erick says, stone-faced. "Bruness respects every caste—we're all family here."

Expecting nothing, Valentina walks out without looking back.

Outside, Lucas waits—thirty-two, sky-tall beta, bronzed skin, incendiary smile—astride his motorcycle.

"Ready to meet some handsome Italians now that you're free?"

"Idiot, I just quit, and you're thinking about—"

"Penis, penis, penis! Short but thick. Long but thick…"

"Yes, yes, yes, we know you like them thick!"

Valentina snaps on her helmet and slips a USB drive into her bra: eight years of contacts. She won't leave empty-handed.

The game has only just begun.

____________________________________________________

Glossary

Canton – A territorial and political division of Switzerland, similar to a state, with autonomous laws.

Chapter Text

"Ugh, it's so hot. Lucas, why did we come to Moneglia and not Lampedusa? There's nothing to do in this city..."

Valentina felt out of place. She wasn't sure if she had done the right thing after that heated moment at the agency. Only five hours had passed since the incident, but her mind was racing. Part of her thought she had overreacted. That she wouldn't have enough money to survive. That finding a job wouldn't be easy. And maybe, just maybe, Miguel had a point.
But her heart was beating fast. As if she had just climbed a mountain and, despite the exhaustion, felt proud for not giving up.

"You're scared, aren't you?" Lucas said, glancing at her as they walked. "Relax. If you don't find a job, I'll hire you to sweep my tiny shop."

"You're such an ass," she replied with a laugh.

They checked into the hotel, unpacked, and took a quick shower before heading out for dinner. Moneglia was a hidden seaside town in the Liguria region, with just over 3,000 inhabitants. Quiet. Simple. Unpretentious—a place where social rank didn't seem to matter much. Not like the big cities, where people competed over who was more "pure." There, the cobblestone streets and flower-filled windows gave off a different feeling: no one was in a hurry.

The next day, they woke up early to go to the beach. If they didn't get there in time, someone would take their umbrellas; on many Italian beaches, spots were taken on a first-come, first-served basis.

"I feel uncomfortable. I don't think I'll go in the water."

"What do you mean? Is it because of the bikini?"

"No, I just... don't want to get tanned."

"Valentina, I've known you for almost nine years. I know when you're lying."

Valentina didn't have much confidence in her body. She had suffered from bulimia during her teens after one of several episodes of abuse. Since then, she felt vulnerable, as if everyone was judging her. At fifteen, a man had touched her under her uniform on the way to school. She had always believed she would react strongly if something like that happened. But she froze. No one said anything. No one defended her. Everyone looked away as she cried in silence.

And sometimes, being a beta in Zurich felt like being invisible in a room full of lights. You had scent, sure, but it barely registered. You had rut, yes, but it didn't trigger anything in others. And no one wanted to hear about it. To society, if your pheromones don't excite, you don't exist.

"That's how I like them. Chubby," the stranger had said that day.

She stayed silent out of shame. Her family's judgmental stares, the constant comparisons to her omega cousins and their alpha boyfriends, had left their mark. She felt like she'd never be enough. If she was overweight, she was criticized. If she lost weight, it still wasn't good enough. She lived in a cycle of guilt that no one seemed to notice.

"Please don't pressure me. I've had enough today."

"Never, my love. Never. I love you, and if anyone says anything or looks at you funny, I'll punch them."

At 7 a.m., they reached the shore. Half the space was already taken. Valentina, with some effort, took off her blouse. Her biggest insecurity was her legs. The sun burned, and the sea called. Lucas insisted, and she finally agreed to go in with him.

In the water, her negative thoughts melted away. The laughter, the games, and the arrival of two guys who came over to chat lifted their spirits. Lucas attracted everyone with his smile and confidence. He was building his own business from scratch, which made him even more interesting.

They invited them for focaccia and to explore the town. There wasn't much to do, but the company was fun. One of the guys, Bastian, made Valentina laugh like she hadn't in a long time. There was something about him that made her let her guard down.

"Signorina, Signore," Bastian said as they said goodbye. "See you at eight. I sent you the address."

Back at the hotel, they got ready quickly.

"Valentina, do you have condoms?"

"WHAT?! Why the hell would I have condoms? I came here to relax, not to hunt locals!"

"With the number of lovers I've seen you with, you act like a nun."

"Excuse me? Should we talk about your inboxes? You have a waiting list of ten. And twenty international."

Lucas couldn't help but provoke her. He loved seeing her mad. Because he knew that beneath her tough facade, she was all heart and would give everything for the people she loved.

The address led them to a family villa overlooking the sea. In Switzerland, young people moved out as soon as they could, but they knew that in other countries, life worked differently. The family welcomed them warmly. Later, when the adults left, only four remained: Valentina, Lucas, Bastian, and Andrea. Lucas and Andrea didn't take long to start kissing and caressing.

"So, you work in advertising, right?" Bastian asked Valentina.

"I used to. As of 24 hours ago, I'm unemployed."

"Perfect. Come live in Moneglia."

"Hahaha, I can't. I'd go crazy without work."

"Crazy? Well, you're driving me crazy already."

She fell silent. And when she looked around for Lucas, he was gone. She thought, Damn you and your dick, Lucas.

"I'm a beta," she said. "I don't think I'm your type."

"So what? We're not getting married... are we?"

"Don't betas bother you? Wait, are you beta?"

"No. I'm omega. Andrea too."

"Whaaat? Shouldn't you be with an alpha or something?"

"Right now, I'm only interested in you. And those lips that keep tempting me."

Barely a moment passed before Bastian leaned in to kiss her.

His touch was gentle, soft. He was almost as tall as Lucas, with green eyes like pine trees, and a body easy on the eyes. His hands were large, slightly calloused from training, but they touched her with such delicacy that she couldn't help leaning in closer.

The first kiss was brief. Then came a second. A third... until his tongue met hers, and she could taste his breath—fresh, minty, from a candy.

One hand touched the back of her neck, pulling her close until she was sitting on his lap. The other hand caressed her thighs slowly.

Their mouths released only soft moans, charged with excitement, fire, and curiosity driving them to see how far they could go. Valentina could feel it all: his tongue, his pressure, his warmth.

"Do you want more?" he whispered.

"I don't know you well enough..."

"I won't do anything without your permission. But let me kiss you until you do."

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the villa, Lucas and Andrea were consumed with desire. Caresses, kisses, teasing. The desire was mutual, free of labels. Just bodies, skin, and hunger.

"Should I put it on, or do you want to?"

"Whatever you want. But if you go first, I'll go second."

They were spark, fire, flame. Andrea pushed Lucas against the wall, confidently. No one could hear them—he had a mini apartment separate from the main house.

Lucas had told him he was a beta, but Andrea had already guessed. He couldn't stop smelling him. There was something about Lucas that attracted him on an almost instinctive level.

"I don't give off scent, I'm beta," Lucas said.

"I know. But there's a scent... tuberose. It drives me wild."

Lucas realized he was extremely aroused. As a male beta, he didn't have a rut, but his natural scent could still be detected if someone got close to his glands. If Andrea had been in heat, the scent would have intensified.

The kisses didn't stop. Andrea couldn't stop touching him, kissing his stomach, and slowly moving down to his waistband. They were in a corner of the room, near the bed. With slow, sure hands, Andrea unzipped his pants, opened the button, and found soaked underwear, drenched in precum from arousal. He leaned in and licked it with desire.

"Careful what you're doing. I might tie you to the headboard."

"Do whatever you want. Just know I'll return the favor."

From wall to floor, from floor to bed. Lucas kissed every inch of Andrea's body as if it were something sacred. He was a careful lover, attentive, able to read expressions, sounds, pleas, moans, and every cry of pleasure from his partner.

There were no clothes left between them. Just inches away from where true pleasure began.

Moan after moan escaped Andrea's mouth as he lay face down under Lucas, scratching his back, biting his arms, holding his breath... then letting it go in one long exhale.

"More, please, more. Harder."

From face down, Andrea ended up on all fours. Slaps and licks across his back, up to his neck.

"I want..."

"Yes. Pull my hair. Do whatever you want with me."

That night had no taboos. Only sweat, sighs, bites, dirty talk, and the sound of a bed moving with their lust. It wasn't just one round. Or one room.

"You're the worst," Valentina said the next morning. "Our room reeks of sex!"

"Hahaha! But that's why you love me."

"Loving you doesn't mean you get to wreck my budget. I had to rent another room."

"You could've come in after he left."

"Lucas, it smells like two days of non-stop wild sex!"

"Speaking of sex... what happened with Bastian?"

She just blushed, grabbed her bag, and left for breakfast.

It was the day they were going back to Zurich. Back to reality. She hadn't checked her email. Didn't know if she had to return to the agency.

Her whole weekend had been about Bastian: walking hand in hand through the city, eating, discovering small bars and a church, kissing in alleyways like a shy couple. Long kisses in every shadow, touching each other playfully, as if time was on their side.

As the hour to head to the airport approached, she considered checking her email again. She didn't want to. She just wanted to cling to the last thing Bastian had said:

"I'll be in Zurich in two weeks to visit some friends. Can I see you?"

"Yeah. I can show you around the city."

"I want you to show me everything... not just the city."

She didn't trust men. Maybe because of her past. Maybe because she was beta. Or maybe because she had only ever loved people who didn't know how to love her back.

"Do you know if you have to go back to the agency?" Lucas asked.

"Yes. They called me in for Wednesday. Meeting with the CEO, Miguel, and HR."

The perfect weekend began to vanish like cheap incense. The only thing left was a memory that, instead of calming her, made her stomach churn. Just thinking about going back to that place... the stares, the whispers, the gossip since her resignation... it all gave her anxiety.

But it was done. There was no going back.

All she wanted now was to close that chapter and start a new one. Find a job. Start fresh.

And for the first time in years, she thought:

“Now I can finally sleep in.”

Glossary

Focaccia — A flat, fluffy, salty bread, similar to a pizza without sauce, usually topped with olive oil, coarse salt, herbs, or ingredients like olives and tomatoes.

Chapter Text

It was a slightly muggy morning for Zurich. Lately, it had been unusually hot; the weather had changed in recent years.

Lucas had worked in advertising for years, like Valentina, but a year ago, he quit his agency to focus on his true dream: motorcycles. Since he was a child, he had fallen in love with the custom style. He remembered riding with his moms through the Alps, taking in every town along the way.

After saving for nearly seven years, he was finally able to start his own business. His first clients were his mothers and a few close friends. Lucas’s mom was a beta, and his other mother—a recessive alpha.

It was nearly noon when he remembered Valentina's meeting was approaching. He was worried about her, but he knew there wasn't much he could do except wait. Besides, he had things to do: pick up new tires and take photos to upload to his website. He thought that now that his best friend was unemployed, maybe she could help him manage his social media.

“Good afternoon, I’m here to pick up some tires I ordered.”
“Good afternoon. What brand are they?”
“Metzeler.”
“You placed the order a month ago, right? Okay, I’ll need your purchase code and ID.”

It was a quiet day, and Lucas was happy. He had finally managed to buy one of the most in-demand tire models on the market. He had waited an entire month, since the factory only produced limited units due to high demand.

“Here you go.”
“Oh, are you a beta?”
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry, it’s just… you didn’t react to my pheromones and..... I’m just surprised a beta would order six sets of tires. Look, it’s probably better if we just refund your money. I highly doubt you’ll put them to good use.”

His day was ruined. Well, not completely. He was used to that kind of treatment. Because of his appearance, many assumed he was an alpha—or at the very least, an omega. But when they noticed he didn’t react to the subtle—flirty—pheromones, their expressions shifted to discomfort or disgust.

Lucas ignored the receptionist’s words, hoisted the three heavy boxes without a word, and walked out of the store… He wasn’t in the mood to argue. Even if he usually brushed off that kind of treatment, he was still human. And every time someone judged him without knowing him, it left a small, bitter sting in his chest.

Valentina was just a block away from the agency. After getting off the train, she ran into two former colleagues from post-production. They greeted her kindly and asked what had happened, but she, in a hurry, just said she'd explain later. Truthfully, she didn't want to explain anything. She didn't even want to be there. She wished they had just emailed her about the payment. But no. As always, they liked to hold meetings for things that could have been an email.

She greeted security and walked in. She went straight to the torture room; if it hadn't been for what happened the previous Friday, she'd still think it was just a regular meeting room.

Inside were Erick, Raffael, Miguel, the HR manager, and, to her surprise, Lorenzo, the head of Accounts.

"Perfect. Now that we're all here, let's begin," Erick said. "Valentina, we asked you to come in not just for your payment, but because your contract states you should receive a recommendation letter for future job opportunities."

"After working with us for almost eight years, we should pay you for unused vacation, extra days, and one month of sick leave. But after recalculating and deducting the days the agency closes in December, you'll only receive one month of sick leave. You quit without notice, and others are covering your projects," said the HR manager.

She felt disgusted. Furious. She wanted to jump on the table and rip their heads off—all of them. No exceptions. What humiliation. To have worked so many years and be treated like used trash. And seeing the satisfied look on Miguel's face made her boil inside.

She knew it wasn't fair. She was afraid to speak up, but something inside told her that even if she stayed silent, they'd still mock her. Still, she took a deep breath:

"Sorry, but vacation days have nothing to do with agency closure dates. That's part of internal policy. And the extra days aren't equivalent to the remaining workload. I left everything fifty percent completed, so I should receive full pay."

The room fell silent. It wasn't common for someone to speak up. Especially not a beta. Everyone knew she was at a disadvantage. But then something else shifted the mood in the room:

"Well, as head of Accounts, I must admit Valentina did impeccable work. Only a few days have passed, so I'm not sure how this will affect future budgets and coordination. But it's true she was always up early," Lorenzo said.

"That was her job, Lorenzo," Miguel replied.

"That's YOUR job, Miguel! To make sure your team doesn't have to wake up at dawn!"

Valentina was stunned. She never thought Lorenzo would defend her. Something was off. He wanted something. Why else would he confront Miguel in front of everyone?

"Valentina, how about coming back to the agency? We'll give you a raise. Miguel is under a lot of stress," Erick said, glancing at Miguel, who looked panicked.

"I’m sorry, but I can’t work with people who refuse to do their jobs. I appreciate the offer, but I have to decline. I just want full payment so we can part on good terms."

"Sorry, Valentina, but I can't pay you what you're asking. If you want, we can involve legal," Erick said.

She knew it. They wouldn't budge. They wouldn't be fair. She was a beta with no legal contacts, and if she pushed too hard, they might not even give her the recommendation letter, let alone her pay. What to do? Where to go? What to fight for? It all felt like a slap in the face. A mockery.

"Think about it. We'll give you another week to consider our offer," Raffael said with a sarcastic smile. "Also, the raise would be a hundred francs. Everyone could use a little extra money, right?"

She wanted to throw up. A hundred francs? That was nothing. What would it cover? A couple of lunches? Two movie nights? If the minimum wage was 3,000 francs a month, and she was being paid 3,500 like a junior, she was left with 400 francs after covering basic expenses. And those 400 were for emergencies… which she had already spent on her trip with Lucas.

(Phone Call)

"So, are you going back?" Lucas asked later.

"I don't know, Lucas. It's not like I can take them to court. I only have 4,000 francs saved. I don't know any lawyers, and I doubt the state would help. They'd probably assign me a beta lawyer with no connections."

"What if you hire an alpha?"

"WHAT!? Where would I find an alpha lawyer? There's no way they'd want to represent me."

"Hahaha, Valentina. Do you really think no alpha would want to take Erick Hardmiers to court and drain him dry?"

Could it be possible? That an alpha might help her take the agency to court? She could already imagine the headlines, the gossip on kikedin and Pinstägräm. The problem wasn't the gossip, but that many people might turn their backs on her. If the case went public, she might never find work again, or suppliers might not want to collaborate. Or… it could be the opposite. Erick had a lot of enemies.

She had seen lovers—omegas and alphas alike—dragged out by security, screaming that Erick had dumped them and calling him arrogant. But the real issue was Raffael, the business director. Raffael was Erick's shadow. They went everywhere together. They were like henchmen. And whenever Erick got into trouble, Raffael magically “solved” it.

Rumor had it Raffael “ate up” all the omegas in Accounts. Insatiable, stubborn, with a weakness for androgynous people with light eyes, pale skin, and a soft attitude.

(Phone Call)

"What do you say we meet at your shop tomorrow and talk? I'm so frustrated."

"Sure, but let me remind you of something: you still haven't told me anything about Bastian!"

"He-he… I'll come before lunch. Bye."

Lucas really cared about Valentina. He knew she was having a hard time. Even if she seemed fragile or scared, she was the opposite. Maybe, sooner or later, this crisis was inevitable. What she needed was a distraction, a lover… something to help her forget. And first, he had to help her find a solution. But how?

The idea of an alpha lawyer was perfect. But where could they find one willing to support betas? Normally, an alpha lawyer wouldn't risk taking clients from another caste because of their reputation. Although… there was always a crazy one who would do it for revenge.

Chat

Lucas: Hey, quick question. Do you know any lawyers?

Andrea: What happened?

Lucas: Valentina isn't getting her paycheck. So… I had this wild idea of finding an alpha lawyer for her.

Andrea: Wow… you guys really care about caste, huh? Well, I'll ask someone. I don't know how things are over there, but I'll check.

Lucas: When you come visit, you'll see for yourself.

Lucas knew that Andrea, coming from a small town, wouldn't fully understand the caste issues. Maybe if he were from Milano or another big city, he'd worry more. Still, something inside Lucas told him something was off. How could an omega not notice this tension? Possibly he was crazy, or maybe he'd just had bad luck with the people he'd met.

In the end, Lucas knew he'd do anything to help his best friend. And if the lawyer said no, he'd convince them. End of story.

Glossary

Custom motorcycles — Motorcycles modified in style or structure based on the owner's taste.

Recommendation letter — A mandatory work document including responsibilities, time worked, and performance evaluation.

Sick leave payment — The right to continue receiving a salary during medical leave, depending on contract or insurance.

Francs – National currency

Chapter Text

"So, yesterday I messaged Andrea," Lucas said casually.

"For what?" Valentina raised an eyebrow.

"Apparently, he might know an alpha lawyer."

"Lucas, why are you involving strangers in my problem? I never gave you permission to do that," she snapped.

"Valentina, can you stop being so stubborn?"

"I'm not being stubborn. I just don't want nosy people in my business," she replied firmly.

Valentina could be incredibly proud when she wanted to. Maybe Lucas was right, but that didn't give him the right to involve outsiders—people they barely knew who might vanish at any moment or, worse, who saw them as nothing more than a distraction from the start.

She knew she'd need help, especially if she chose to take on the agency. But that didn't mean opening the door to just anyone. Call her paranoid if you want, but she didn't want to be a casual story in anyone's life.

"Let's change the subject. Don't play dumb. Tell me: what happened with Bastian?" Lucas pressed.

"Nothing. NOTHING happened! We just kissed, that's all," Valentina exclaimed.

"FOR TWO STRAIGHT DAYS?!" he shot back in disbelief.

"Sorry, Mr. Million-Dollar Smile, not all of us are rock stars in bed," she said with a smirk.

"Idiot," Lucas muttered.

"Jerk," Valentina countered.

"Drop-dead."

"We die together," she said, laughing.

They spent the whole afternoon at Lucas' workshop, a small place in Uster, a middle-class area with a mostly beta population, though other castes also lived there. Valentina helped organize boxes: jackets, helmets, tires… everything.

Lucas had always dreamed of this. And she wanted to see him shine.

After years of social pressure, the quota law had finally been implemented, requiring companies to employ at least 20% beta workers. Supposedly to "balance the economic contribution of all castes." But everyone knew respect couldn't be legislated.

Valentina was hesitant to reach out to her old suppliers. She feared rejection or inflated prices. She had always kept relationships strictly professional, never getting too friendly, afraid of prejudice. But this time, she took a chance.

She contacted Becerra—nicknamed “Lucky,” though out of formality they only addressed each other by their last names—a highly sought-after alpha photographer. To her surprise, he gladly agreed, asking in exchange for a couple of helmets and some accessories from the store.

"Amiga," he called her, like always. And that made Valentina smile.

"Done. We're going to his studio on Saturday. So we need to have everything ready," she said.

That night, as she was getting ready for bed, she received an unexpected email.

Sender: [email protected]

Hello Valentina,

How are you?

The reason I'm writing is to request a meeting. There are some things I'd like to propose to you now that you're no longer at the agency. I prefer to discuss them in person.

If you feel uncomfortable, you can bring someone with you.

Date: Friday the 23rd
Place: Päblierr Rooftop Restaurant & Bar
Time: 8:00 p.m.

Looking forward to your response.

Best regards,
Lorenzo Gallotti

Valentina froze. A meeting? Tomorrow? Her week had already been suspense-movie-worthy… and now this.

She immediately called Lucas.

"Come with me, I'm begging you."

"No way. I'm not going to some snobby rooftop joint."

"Lucas… you owe me for all the times you ditched me for your lovers."

He finally agreed, against his better judgment.

She didn't want to go. She was walking toward the station when Lucas grabbed her arm to stop her. Her stomach twisted, her legs trembled, anxiety overflowed. She knew Lucas would be by her side, but it didn't stop the fear of sitting down with someone she'd only ever exchanged emails with, and barely spoken to in nearly eight years at the agency.

The place was stunning. Hanging lights, modern art, wide open spaces, floral furniture—Everything screamed exclusivity.

She searched for Lorenzo, who'd said he'd be near the bar on the first floor.

Valentina wasn't unpleasant to look at. She stood 1.70 meters tall, with fair skin, thick eyebrows, dark brown eyes, and jet-black hair. She had hips, a narrow waist, and strong legs. Furthermore, she'd practiced martial arts since childhood—her father, a retired beta police officer, had raised her to defend herself.

"Valentina, over here," Lorenzo said, raising his hand.

He was a tall omega, over 1.80, with shoulder-length blonde hair and an androgynous face—always dressed fashionably. But he wasn't alone. There was another man with him, shorter, with a youthful face.

"I'll be direct," Lorenzo said. "I'm opening an agency with my colleague. I want to work with you. You'd start freelance, but if this grows, we could team up."

Valentina couldn't believe it. Of all the things she'd imagined—this hadn't even made the Top 100.

But just as her heart began to beat with a bit of hope… they appeared.

Erick. Raffael. And two guests.

The restaurant fell silent.

Raffael walked up to their table without asking.

"Oh, Lorenzo… I didn't know you and Valentina were so close."

"Always the gentleman, Raffael," Lorenzo replied firmly." "I didn't know you and Erick frequented places so… public."

Erick just nodded in silence. Watching.

One of Raffael's guests wouldn't stop staring at Lucas. And Lucas? He winked.

"What's your name?" the man asked.

"You're cute. I don't think I've seen you before. Are you an alpha?"

"I'm a beta. Name's Lucas," he said without lowering his gaze.

"Shame. With that smile, I figured you were something more."

The man reached out to touch him.

Valentina placed her hand over his.

"Please don't make him uncomfortable. Thank you."

Silence.

Raffael looked at her with a mixture of mockery and surprise, then headed to his table with Erick.

"Lorenzo… with all due respect, I can't stay in this place," she said.

"You're right. Do you know anywhere quieter?"

As they were leaving, Valentina felt a sharp slap on her butt. A man had just spanked her.

Hard. On purpose.

She turned around and slapped him across the face—without thinking.

"The man stood up, furious. But Lucas moved first. He grabbed him by the neck—and slammed him into the chair."

"Apologize. Or I'll break your neck."

The man—an alpha—released pheromones like a weapon. The air turned heavy. Disgusting.

"Pheromones?" Lucas smiled." I can smell your shit, but it doesn't work on me. I'm beta."

Valentina held Lucas back. Some customers had already fled because of the stench. Lorenzo and his partner had also moved away—visibly affected by the intensity and hate behind the pheromones.

But suddenly, the alpha stopped emitting them.

A new scent filled the room—intense sandalwood. They couldn't quite place it, but they knew: it was pheromones. Strong enough to be noticed.

The man pissed himself in fear. And Lucas took the opportunity to punch him.

Raffael stepped in from behind.

"You're welcome," he said, as if he'd done something.

"We didn't ask for your help," Valentina shot back.

"You're way too arrogant for a beta. You should know your place."

"That's enough," she said. "Thanks, but we can handle it ourselves."

"You weren't this rude back at the office."

"The office is one thing… this is another."

Erick never moved from his table. Not a gesture. Not a word.

But as Valentina crossed the exit door…she felt his gaze burning into her back.

Outside, Lorenzo and his partner were already waiting—recovered.

"What the hell was that? Did Erick say anything to you?"

"Nothing. He just kept watching like none of this mattered."

Valentina adjusted her coat.

"Maybe I won't go back to that office," she whispered.

Lucas looked at her—half proud, half worried.

"Does that scare you?"

"No," she said, taking a deep breath.

"I think what scares me… is that I'm finally not scared."

Life had just handed her an opportunity on a silver platter—and with it, anxiety served as the appetizer.

Chapter Text

🎵 Now playing: "In the Shadows" – The Rasmus

It was a Sunday, and Valentina was finally getting a break—a chance to step away from the city, the chaos, the noise… but mostly from her own thoughts. She had woken up early, packed her backpack, and headed to Meiringen, her parents' hometown.

Meiringen is a small district in the alps region, famous for its mountains and classic charm, often seen in films and social media posts. As one of her favorite songs played in her headphones, she stared out the train window, lost in her thoughts, anxiety, and doubts.

This trip was supposed to help her breathe, to take a break from everything. But anxiety chased her like cops behind smugglers. She couldn't stop overthinking. And one phrase kept spinning in her mind:

"So this is how life passes me by. How sad… I'm 32, unemployed, and lost."

She arrived at the station—swarming with tourists. She remembered this was one of the worst times of year to come home, but it was still better than nothing. As she walked the countryside path surrounded by cows, she found herself wishing she were one of them—doing nothing all day but eating grass… though she'd probably just end up as steak.

"Mom, I'm here."

Her mother was a retired beta and a single woman. Her parents had separated when she was still young and barely tolerated each other. Within thirty minutes, Valentina had already told her everything—over coffee and cookies.

Around 7 p.m., her mom suggested grabbing some beers and visiting her dad to update him as well. Even though they didn't get along, her parents had a silent pact: support their only daughter. They both knew what it was like to be discriminated against.

Her dad never made it past a supervisor role in prisons. Her mom never finished college due to lack of money and worked as a technician in psychological support centers.

"Beers? So what's your plan now?" her father asked.

It was nice being home—but also stressful. Soon enough, her parents were arguing over her career path. They said she never should've studied advertising—that she should've picked something more "stable" like law or medicine.

Classic: frustrated parents projecting their regrets onto their children.

That was exactly why she had moved to Zurich. Even though she was born there during one of their trips, she returned later for practical reasons—it was the country's economic capital. But also, one of the toughest cities to live in… especially for a beta.

Three days later, she returned to Zurich and got to work. She knew job hunting wouldn't be easy.

The country's unemployment system offered 80% of your previous salary, but with strict rules: you had to send a certain number of applications per month, or they'd cut your support. And if you didn't find a job in time, they could assign you to anything.

She updated her resume, wrote a cover letter, and took a new photo. But there was one big issue: the recommendation letter. She hadn't received it yet, since she hadn't officially responded to her old agency's offer. She had to decide: accept… or fight.

Like a sarcastic Shakespearean monologue, her thoughts began to spiral:

"To be or not to be… that is the question."
To return or not. To get paid or not. To be strong… or just pretend.

She was clear in her mind. But not in her body.

A list of doubts followed:

— I need the money.  
— I can't live alone for much longer.  
— I don't want to move back home.  
— I don't want to bother Lucas.  
— And I don't really have anyone else.

It was already done.

Besides, she thought back to a certain incident in front of Raffael and Erick a few days ago.

So, with no better option, she wrote the email:

She declined their offer and asked for her full payment and the official recommendation letter.

Before clicking send, she considered taking legal action.

It was fair. It was legal.

But not everything fair in life… happens.

She did what she could.

Or what her mind—and her anxiety—let her do.

She clicked send.

At least now, she'd bought herself a few days… to find a lawyer, or at least a backup plan.

But her thoughts kept buzzing:

How could I quit without a plan B?

There were bills. So many bills.

As kids, we dream of growing up. As adults, we just want to go back.

"Why the hell would anyone want to be an adult in the first place?"

Rent, electricity, phone, internet, food, public transport, taxes…THE DAMN TAXES.

And she didn't even have kids.

She needed dopamine. She didn't know how to get it.

But something—or someone—flashed through her body.

Bastian.

He was supposed to arrive in Zurich in less than a week, visiting some friends. They had already planned to meet up.

But with him, she felt… different.

The more they talked, the more comfortable she felt.

It was new.

A mix of wanting to see him—and fearing he'd be disappointed.

What if I'm not enough? What if I'm too direct, too intense, too complicated?

Was it normal to feel this way in your thirties?

She'd heard that by thirty, you were supposed to have life figured out.

But she had no home. No partner. No dog. No job.

Maybe those people were from another generation.

Or maybe… they were lying.

Because for her, adulthood felt like a game with no clear rules.

Two more days passed, and miraculously, she got two interviews:

—One in person, at a major agency.—One online, at a smaller firm.

Both were scheduled for the same day, two days later.

Everything was moving fast—but in advertising, everything was always due yesterday.

The good news? Neither had asked for a recommendation letter.

She crossed her fingers.

Friday came. Almost a week since her resignation.

She took the train—punctual, as always—walked two blocks, and arrived at a sleek building near the opera house. She waited 45 minutes in the lobby—standard agency stuff.

The interview went well, but the pay? Same as her last job.

And they only wanted to hire her in January.

How would she survive until then?

She rushed home for her second interview—a smaller agency, run by a mixed-caste team.

That one went even better.

The pay was 15% higher, and they wanted her to start in two weeks.

But there was a catch: she'd be the first and only producer on the team, and her contract would be on a three-month trial.

Valentina thought: "This is a great opportunity… but also a huge risk."

The weekend passed quietly.

She stayed home, watching series, reading comics, and listening to music.

She also picked up a book she hadn't touched in over a year: A tragic but hopeful wartime novel... much like my life, she thought.

On Monday, two things happened:

—She got the job at the small agency.—And Bastian texted her.

WChat

Bastian: Signorina, I'll be arriving in Zurich Wednesday morning. Want to meet?

Valentina: Oh, I thought you weren't coming until Friday.

Bastian: Yes, well… turns out I'm a little too impatient to see someone.

Valentina: A date?

Bastian: Hahahaha. You're really bad at taking hints, huh?

Valentina: ??????????

Bastian: You, Valentina. I want to see you. That's why I'm coming early.

Ah, love.

Isn't it ironic that after a week of chaos, she now had a new job and someone who actually wanted her?

But her anxious brain refused to believe it.

She knew anxious minds ask a million questions for every answer—and have one answer for a million possibilities.

She'd been single for five years. Sure, she had dated… but no one had pursued her just like that. No one approached her unless she was with Lucas.

And Lucas… was sunlight. A star in a room full of fireflies.

Valentina had self-esteem—but she also recognized the kind of beauty Lucas attracted.

Was Bastian the exception?

She met him at the beach, with Lucas. But he was the one who approached her. He was the one who insisted.

And now, he was coming. For her.

Or so she told herself…in her moments of madness.

Wednesday. Valentina went to pick him up.

She was nervous.

She hadn't seen him in person since the beach.

Just texts, brief calls.

What would happen?

Would they just talk? Or kiss? Or end up in bed?

"So… did you miss me?"  Bastian asked.

Seeing him felt like a fire lit in her stomach.

She wanted to jump on him—but she held back.

"Can I stay at your place tonight?"  Bastian said, shaking his head from side to side.

"Excuse me? I thought you were staying with friends…"

"I am. But I also came for you. I want to get to know you better." Bastian said, touching Valentina's cheek.

"Don't you think you're being a little too forward?" Valentina said, touching Bastian's hand on her cheek.

"Sharp tongue. Direct mind. I like that."

Valentina hesitated. She didn't trust easily. She didn't know his habits.

What if he was just another charming narcissist?

Or worse… a serial killer?

Eventually, he agreed to stay with his friends—but asked to spend the whole day with her.

She agreed.

Back at her place, the atmosphere changed.

There was no tension.

There was electricity.

No words. Just ragged breathing.

And long-held gazes.

They moved closer.

And just like that… they started kissing.

These weren't soft kisses.

They were hungry. Desperate.

And in her mind,  "Angel – Massive Attack" played on repeat.

She took off her blouse.

He didn't hesitate to unclip her bra.

He kissed her breasts—hard. Not tenderly.

She grabbed his head and pulled him closer to her chest.

She moaned. Told him not to stop. Told him to go harder.

He turned her around.

Slid off her jeans.

And with trembling hands, he undressed her almost completely.

Her heart was ready to leap out of her mouth.

Not from fear. From desire.

She hadn't felt something so brutally real in so long.

Hadn't been looked at with so much hunger and desperation in years.

He stripped, down to his underwear.

Pressed against her, his length rubbing against her skin.

He bit her ear, licked her neck, and whispered:

“Tonight, I'm going to be good to you. I won't do much… but what I do, you'll never forget,” he whispered, then licked her ear.

She nearly lost her mind.

But what truly shattered her…was that he moaned in her ear.

And that—that broke her open.

A man moaning.

Moaning for her.

Moaning her name.

And it turned her on more than anything else.

"Valentina…" he whispered, voice strained, body tense. "I want to be inside you."

She moved, desperate to face him.

They rubbed against each other. Every motion a tremor through her skull.

"Say it," he whispered. "Tell me you want it. I can go slow—or I can tear your soul apart."

"I want it. All of it." Valentina said. 

"You sure? I could go so deep you'll be begging me for more."

Valentina wasn't thinking anymore.

She just arched.

Just pushed herself against him.

She wanted to feel him.

All of him.

And just as he was about to enter—

KNOCK KNOCK.

Someone at the door.

Silence.

They both froze.

It was Lucas.

Valentina had forgotten she'd told him to come by. Just in case.

Because that morning, her gut told her not to trust Bastian.

And her gut, as always… was either right—

Or totally wrong.

She stood still.

The adrenaline vanished like a slap.

She got dressed. Quietly.

She didn't look at him.

Didn't say a word.

And thought to herself:

I served myself on a silver platter…

Now I'm just a cold dish.

Will there be...a next time?

Chapter Text

"Haha, what happened? Did I kill the mood?" Lucas said with a laugh.

Valentina had completely forgotten she had asked Lucas to come over. She didn't know how to act around Bastian—or rather, wasn't sure if she should let herself go with him. Lucas didn't see anything wrong with Bastian, but he thought his best friend was being dramatic.

"What if he's a serial killer?" That was what Valentina had said, and Lucas still couldn't believe it. Especially because Bastian openly flirted with Andrea.
How could someone so sweet have such an evil cousin?

The rest of the afternoon was painfully awkward.
Bastian ended up leaving to stay with his friends, clearly uncomfortable.
Lucas also decided to head out—he had work to do and had only left the shop for Valentina.

Still, Lucas was excited about the weekend. Andrea was coming to stay for a few days.
There was a spark between them, and he wanted to relive the fire they'd shared.
Andrea, to Lucas, felt like a plush toy: soft on the outside and even softer on the inside.
They got along effortlessly. It was never officially discussed, but their relationship was clearly more physical than emotional.

Lucas prepped everything at his place.
Of course, Andrea would sleep with him. No way they'd be apart—not with the kind of night Lucas had in mind.

A day later, still no word from Bastian, Lucas called Valentina on her cell.

"So, it's been a day. Has Bastian come back?"

"No. I haven't heard from him," Valentina replied.

Lucas figured Bastian was either busy… or still feeling awkward about what happened.

He told Valentina not to overthink it. After all, she didn't have much vacation time left. Her new job was just around the corner.

The next day, Lucas opened his shop as usual, but he was jittery.
Butterflies danced in his stomach. He couldn't wait to see Andrea—those honey-brown eyes, that killer smile, and to hear Andrea say his name again.
Lucas hadn't felt this comfortable with someone in a long time.
He wasn't looking for a relationship—at least not yet—but Andrea felt like peace in human form.

A light breeze swept through the avenue.
People rushed to catch their trains, as always. Zurich trains were famously punctual, and missing one meant five agonizing minutes of waiting.
But nothing could shake Lucas from his daydream of a weekend full of passion.

Thirty minutes to closing.
Lucas planned to head to the train station right after.
A client had been supposed to pick up a pair of tires over an hour ago—not just any pair, but Metseler tires. Lucas had waited two weeks to get them. High demand. Premium stuff.

With fifteen minutes left, the customer finally showed up—accompanied by someone Lucas had hoped never to see again.

"Well, look who it is. If it isn't the beta pretending to be an alpha," Raffael sneered.

Lucas's mind screamed: "What the hell is this asshole doing here?"
But he kept calm. Took a deep breath. Handed over the tires.
He needed to get to the airport. Fast.

Of course, things couldn't go smoothly.

Raffael wouldn't shut up. He mocked Lucas, questioned how he even owned a shop, commented on the “low-class” neighborhood, and hinted that success was out of reach for a beta.
He just kept going—like a broken radio.

Lucas wanted to punch him straight into next week.

Even Raffael's friend looked uncomfortable and finally cut in:
"Didn't realize you two were so close. Might explain why you're so chatty."

Raffael shut up.

His thoughts swirled: How could an alpha like me be friends with a beta like him?

Raffael was Lucas's height, maybe slightly taller.

Commanding. Confident. Like a Viking in a business suit. Dark brown hair, styled but messy. Icy blue eyes, full of arrogance. Sharp jawline. Athletic build.

He looked like someone who knew exactly how to manipulate a room.

Lucas ignored him.
Said goodbye.
Closed the shop.

At the airport, crowds surged.
Lucas clutched a bouquet of roses—his small, silent apology for all the time apart. He wanted to make up for lost time.

Soon, flights from Genova started landing.

"Warm welcome or rest first?" Lucas smiled.

Andrea simply answered, “Home.”

As soon as they entered the apartment, they were kissing, hands everywhere.

But Lucas pulled back.
Andrea had been exhausted lately, staying up writing. He deserved a break.
Lucas offered to cook and show him the city by night.
They had two full weeks. No rush.

That night, Zurich was alive.
They went to a rooftop bar called Herr Ferald, drank beer, and soaked up the summer energy.
People laughed and sang. For a moment, life felt light.

"Lucas, did you miss me?" Andrea asked suddenly.

Lucas was caught off guard.
Of course, he had.

Andrea made him feel safe. Unjudged.
It had been ages since he'd felt that.

Andrea wasn't just a fling.
Even if Lucas wasn't ready for something serious, he wanted to keep getting to know him.

"I'd like to know more about you," Andrea said.

Lucas paused.
What more was there to say?

Andrea already knew about his recessive omega sister, his beta mom, and his alpha mother.

He'd already told Andrea about his past in advertising, and the shop he now ran.
Was there really more to say?

But then Lucas brought up the lawyer—again.
Why was he so insistent?
Andrea looked at Lucas seriously—almost disturbingly so.

“I don’t get why you keep asking about the lawyer. Bastian told me he already spoke to Valentina.”

That was strange.
Valentina usually told Lucas everything.

Why hadn’t she mentioned it?

Lucas let it go, choosing instead to enjoy his night.

Back at the apartment, Lucas stared at Andrea.

He felt like the wolf, and Andrea was the lamb he wanted to devour.

Those soft brown eyes were full of desire.
His tanned skin, his smaller but sturdy frame, the way he reached Lucas's chin—he was irresistible.

Andrea's fingers glided up Lucas's chest, to his neck, and finally to his lips.
When Lucas slid a finger between them, Andrea licked it, then bit it, then sucked it into his mouth.

Lucas couldn't take it anymore.

He lifted Andrea and pinned him gently against the front door.

Andrea wrapped his legs around him, clutching his shoulders.
Their kiss was frantic, their bites hungry.

Andrea paused.
Looked into Lucas's eyes.
Then leaned down to his neck and a bit hard—possessively.

"Fuck, Andrea," Lucas gasped between a moan and a nervous laugh.

He set Andrea down gently, then dropped to his knees and unbuttoned his pants.

He took him in his mouth like it was a sacred ritual.
Licked slowly. Desperately.

Andrea moaned and guided Lucas's head toward him again. Harder.

Then, in a blur, Andrea shoved him to the floor, stripped, and climbed on top of him.

He wanted everything.
All of it. Now.

The room filled with soft, messy moans.

Andrea wanted the neighbors to hear—yet still muffled his voice, knowing that drove Lucas crazy.

Lucas wasn't affected by pheromones.
But he could smell Andrea—faintly. Vanilla.

And Andrea wanted him to smell it.

Lucas entered him.
Andrea's mind went blank.
Every thrust made the room spin.

He floated, until Lucas flipped him over.
It made everything more intense.

The friction. The sweat. The rhythm. The gasps.

Andrea couldn't stay quiet any longer.

And for a brief, perfect moment—the world disappeared.

By noon, they woke up tired but glowing from their marathon.

Lucas needed to talk to Valentina.
He hoped Bastian would be there too.
The memory of how they met still lingered.

They rode to Maur—Valentina's town, a middle-class rural zone, all green fields and peaceful lakes.
No trains. Just buses, due to the hilly terrain.

At her place, Valentina was watching a true-crime show—classic her.

Andrea was happy to see her again but noticed something off.
She looked sad. Pale—not from her skin tone, but her energy.

"Where's Bastian? Thought he'd be here, especially after what he said about the lawyer," Andrea asked.

Valentina froze.
What lawyer?

The last time she saw Bastian was when Lucas interrupted them.
He hadn't messaged her since.
And he never mentioned a lawyer.

She assumed he'd been uncomfortable and blamed herself for misjudging him.

She didn't ask further.
Thought it best to ask Bastian directly.

Just as she picked up her phone to text him, the TV cut to a quick news segment:

"On Saturday, September 13, a beta body was found in Zurich Langenberg Natural Park. The body was discovered by two workers while delivering food for the animals."

The report lasted twenty seconds—then switched to celebrity gossip.

Typical.
News barely paid attention to betas.
Alphas and omegas dominated headlines.

After a while, Lucas and Andrea said their goodbyes and left.

Valentina sent the message.

Bastian didn't reply until the next day:

"I'm not upset. I've just been sightseeing around the city with my friends. I'd love to see you on Monday—my last free day before I start work."

For some reason, Valentina felt guilty and didn't want to bother Bastian about the lawyer, even though she knew she should.
She wanted to know why he hadn't told her earlier.

When Andrea came to her apartment, she used the opportunity to ask him only for the lawyer's contact information.
She wanted to leave Bastian out of it—it was something she preferred to handle on her own.

She planned to call the lawyer the next day to explore what her best option might be—or at least to confirm what Bastian had already discussed with him.

Time was running out.
A new chapter of her life was about to begin, and she had no idea how chaotic it might be.
It would be the first time she would hold a management position, and although she'd be on her own, she thought that if things progressed well, she could count on Alex—someone she considered one of the most responsible and experienced people she knew.

Chapter Text

I Think I've Moved to Hell. That's what ran through Valentina's mind. It was only seven in the morning, and her house felt like an oven. She felt suffocated, fatigued, frustrated, uncomfortable—it was as if summer itself summoned all the most unbearable sensations the moment she woke up. In Switzerland, not every home has air conditioning, and getting one installed would cost thousands of francs due to strict environmental regulations. The common solution? Aluminum blinds. Keeping everything in the dark helped tone down the suffocating heat.

Her body was used to waking up early because of her routine, and now that she was no longer working, she didn't know what to do with herself. Go back to sleep? Take a shower? Go for a walk? Too many options, none appealing. Work had been her only obsession, her only distraction from the monotony of daily life.

Now she felt lost, bored, melancholic—almost empty at times. The combination of early mornings and having nothing to do felt unnatural after eight straight years of nonstop work.

A few minutes later, she remembered she had plans to meet Bastian. They had arranged to meet at Torino, a fairly well-known bar in the city center. She wasn't used to going out, especially because she never had the time—her life revolved around work. Unfortunately, advertising often meant early mornings, and that had slowly chipped away at her social life.

She felt nervous, happy, excited. Something inside her was telling her to get ready, and that was something she actually liked about herself. She wanted to go. She wanted to see Bastian. She needed to see him. She knew she wouldn't catch anyone else's eye… but she wanted to catch his.

Then came the panic: what should she wear? That lingering sense of doubt returned. That feeling that something just didn't quite fit. Being happy one second, unsure the next. She wanted to see him, but also wanted to know why he hadn't mentioned the lawyer. She needed to shake off the anxiety—the subtle, persistent one that whispered maybe she had done something wrong. That perhaps he was upset, even though he'd said he wasn't. But Lucas had interrupted them, and Bastian never had the chance to explain.

Maybe it wasn’t about Bastian. Maybe it was just that she wasn’t used to someone else stepping in. She’d spent years solving everything on her own—and now someone had taken initiative for her. And that… felt unfamiliar. Unsettling.

Around noon, she got a call from Lorenzo. Just seeing his name on her phone filled her with happiness, excitement, and readiness. A rush of energy and hope for the future. The last time they spoke, he had said he'd call when there were updates. And now—there were updates. Big ones.

"Valentina, there's going to be a party at the Barussbar on the 18th."

"Are you inviting me?" she asked.

" No, of course not. I just called to waste your time because I have nothing better to do."

Lorenzo's sense of humor was a lot like hers: dry, critical, a touch of dark sarcasm, but honest. Even though they hadn't spoken much last time, she could tell he was a kind person—direct, but with good intentions. Valentina was still surprised by Lorenzo's offer. Not much happened in her life lately. Stress or drama only came when there was a project involved. But this was different.

They coordinated for about an hour. The call stretched out, but Lorenzo was thorough and detail-oriented. And that was gold for a producer: details, or as they called it, the good stuff. The more, the better—it meant fewer mistakes.The event was semi-formal, and she had to go with someone. Apparently, this was a yearly gathering of top-level executives from various agencies—a private affair.

The reason Lorenzo wanted Valentina there? To help him present himself to a potential client—without making empty promises.

"I need my producer by my side," he'd said.

She felt curious and important—like she was finally being seen. That production wasn't easy, and that she had the talent to bring great ideas to life. She was grateful Lorenzo had such confidence in her experience, that he could see her potential. Though a part of her wondered—maybe she was getting too old for this?

But she quickly shut that thought down. She wasn't old. She was only 32. She could still conquer the world.

Even though Lorenzo's respect meant a lot, it could also be dangerous. There would be no betas at the party—or maybe just a few, barely a handful. It was an exclusive event for the truly influential people in advertising. The real contacts. The ones connected to the government... and beyond.

Most people don't realize that advertising isn't just about commercials and pretty pictures—it's far more powerful.
It can move governments, shape minds, and make people want things they don't even need.

One wrong step at that meeting, and Valentina could be blacklisted for life. Not just her—but worse—Lorenzo.
If the rumors spread, his future, his projects, his dreams… everything could vanish.

Just imagining it made her body tense up, her skin prickle with goosebumps, and her stomach turn. She overthought everything—sometimes to a fault. But that was her armor. Not because she was pessimistic, but because she liked to be prepared for the worst-case scenario—and have a plan to face it.

In the end, she and whatever betas were present would represent what it meant to be a beta—to show that they could fit in with that elite circle. A circle that could recommend you for a job today, promote you to supervisor tomorrow… and maybe even name you creative director at a multinational agency with room to grow.

The world of advertising is filled with carnivorous predators. A fast-paced world where if you don't eat, you get eaten. And she liked to eat—a lot.

As the workday came to an end and the heat finally began to ease, Valentina got ready. She took a long shower, exfoliated, applied her best creams and perfume to all the right spots.

She wore beige linen pants, an olive green blouse of the same fabric with a subtle cut at the chest, and Dr. Martens sandals. She couldn’t live without her rings—especially silver or steel ones. She also wore a silver necklace with a charm shaped like her initial.

They had agreed to meet at 7 p.m. The bar had a chill vibe, with a sort of pool or fountain in the middle where people sat with their beers—or, like most, stood around chatting. A few cushions here and there, some tables scattered around. It was a cool spot, frequented by all ages looking to unwind from the city's chaos.

When she arrived, it was packed—exactly the kind of scene she usually avoided. But she took a deep breath and told herself:

"Ah, screw it."

She barely had five minutes to look around when she locked eyes with Bastian. She instantly felt happy. Just looking at him—and realizing others were looking at him too—filled her with a mix of jealousy and pride, like she was silently telling the world, He's mine.

But the euphoria vanished fast when she saw he wasn't alone. It never crossed her mind that he'd come with others. They never said it would be a group thing. From their messages, she assumed it was just the two of them.

Bastian looked incredibly happy—and incredibly attractive. He was smiling, surrounded by equally cheerful people, singing along to 80s hits blasting through the bar. She didn't know whether to approach. She didn't want to interrupt. Not only that, but she felt like if she stepped in, she'd be intruding on something that wasn't hers to interrupt. She wanted to leave—she felt betrayed. She had truly believed it would be a date—just the two of them, getting to know each other.

And besides… she hated most people. She found them exhausting. But just as she turned to go, someone grabbed her arm.

"Valentina?" said a voice.

"Alex!?" she shouted, overjoyed.

"Girl, you've abandoned me—and now you go to bars without me?"

Alex had been a great coworker. They were about the same age, though he was a little older. Not as tall as Lucas, but not short either. Average height, stocky build, pale skin, light eyes, ash-colored hair. His smile was warm and trustworthy—something about him made you feel at home, like he'd listen to your worst confessions and not judge you for a single word.

Valentina appreciated Alex a lot. He'd been at the agency longer and had guided her when she first joined. They both hated Miguel, had similar music tastes, and avoided the most demanding clients. They were good teammates, supporting each other on the roughest days like old friends.

As they talked animatedly, Valentina wondered why, after all these years, she'd never opened up more to Alex. They had shared good times, sure, but there was always a line neither of them crossed. Maybe because, in an office, you're always careful about what you say—and never talk about what you hear.

Then she remembered why she came. Alex mentioned he'd arrived with a girl he'd been seeing for a while. Valentina knew about her, but this was the first time Alex shared so many details. The way he talked about the relationship and his hopes for the future made her think.

The vibe between the two ex-coworkers was so comfortable, it felt like they were back at the office—having their first morning coffee and catching up on the weekend gossip. For a moment, Valentina felt her heart shrink, missing those days. Despite all the stress and pressure, there had been a unique camaraderie—now long gone.

Then she noticed someone watching them. Alex confirmed it with a look.

And that's when she remembered: Bastian!

Just as she was about to say goodbye to Alex and head toward him, Bastian was already standing behind her.

"So, the person I'm seeing didn't come for me… but to flirt with someone else?"

Chapter Text

The statement caught her by surprise, leaving her momentarily blank. Wait, are we dating? Since when? was the first thought that crossed her mind.

"Bastian, I'm sorry. I got distracted because I ran into a former colleague."

Bastian appeared quite uncomfortable. He disliked that Valentina didn't greet him first and instead became distracted talking with another man. In his eyes, the man lacked the beauty and attractiveness he believed himself to possess; he was overly friendly for Bastian's personal taste, yet at the same time simply… ordinary. Although he wasn't jealous, he felt irritated that he wasn't the center of her attention. However, this time he decided to let it go. He would discuss with her later about things that bothered him. After all, he was convinced that she liked him. Although she hadn't fully succumbed to his desires yet, Bastian was confident that, with time, she'd fall for his charms.

Sensing the tension, Alex excused himself politely, saying someone was calling him from across the room. With a quick hug and a smile, he slipped away, leaving Valentina alone with Bastian.

To Valentina's surprise and discomfort, Bastian introduced her to the group, and immediately all eyes fell upon her. At that moment, anxious thoughts invaded her mind as she became the center of attention. Yet to the others, Valentina was different from the other men and women Bastian had previously brought. Although she perceived herself as a frightened rabbit, others saw her as someone confident, cold, serious, with a severe yet dark gaze. Sometimes, that apparent darkness sparked even more curiosity among those around her, making them wonder what was really going on in her mind. And though her expressions often revealed her feelings and moods, Valentina knew her face was also her greatest protection: a barrier that kept her most complex thoughts hidden.

Minutes passed, and contrary to Valentina's exaggerated panic, everyone treated her kindly. Even when Bastian mentioned that she was a beta, none of those present made inappropriate comments. Apparently, Bastian had already informed them beforehand. The night wasn't so bad and proceeded in relative harmony until someone in the group made a rather sharp remark:

“Valentina, why don’t you want Bastian to stay with you?”

“You don't think he's a murderer, do you?” came the comment, followed by laughter. “HAHAHAHA!” Everyone started laughing.

“Or maybe you're afraid he'll take advantage of you, right?”

The tactless comment irritated Valentina. It made her uncomfortable that people who seemed pleasant could say something so inappropriate.

“Not everyone opens up as quickly as you,” Lucas intervened dryly.

Lucas had arrived with Andrea, although Valentina wasn't aware of this. In a way, her best friend's quick response made her somewhat uneasy; it didn't seem fair for him to speak on her behalf. Although she knew he did it out of concern, she felt capable of defending herself. With a fixed look towards Lucas, a gesture exchange only they understood, she let him know that his intervention wasn't necessary. Lucas, understanding the message, silently mouthed an apology.

Valentina took advantage of the group's discomfort to pull Bastian aside. She wanted to ask him why he hadn't told her anything about the lawyer, if she had done something wrong, and above all, clarify if they were really dating as he had implied.

"It slipped my mind, sorry. But why are you making such a drama?" Bastian replied, seemingly unconcerned. "He said he'd see you on Wednesday."

Valentina felt her stomach twist. It wasn’t just what he said, but how casually he said it. He didn’t seem to understand that for her, handling things alone wasn’t just a choice—it was her default setting.

She also noticed that, despite everything, Bastian didn’t clarify whether they were actually dating. Her expression twisted with discomfort. She could feel the wind blowing, hear the laughter, the singing, and the sound of water as people dipped their feet in a nearby fountain. Her mind and heart were in constant connection: what she felt in her chest inevitably showed on her face. At that moment, her expression clearly showed annoyance. She wanted to tell Bastian it wasn’t fair to call her dramatic—but something stopped her… a kiss.

"I'm sorry, darling. It really slipped my mind. Will you forgive me?"

That apology and kiss were enough to make Valentina doubt her own thoughts. Maybe I'm exaggerating, she told herself. After all, he was human, just like her, and capable of forgetting things. Additionally, Bastian had mentioned being a bit sad about not staying with her, and that's why it had slipped his mind. People at the bar watched them as they kissed. Relationships involving people of different castes always drew attention, but it usually ended there. Everyday gossip considered it temporary amusement on one side while the other enjoyed fleeting luck.

By early morning, with everyone quite intoxicated, they decided to take the train back home. Bastian explained to Valentina that he'd leave with his friends and see her on Wednesday. She insisted they should leave together, but he firmly refused, claiming they had already agreed to meet the day after tomorrow to talk with the lawyer at her home. Valentina reluctantly accepted, knowing she had no choice. And thus, with the summer warmth slowly fading, her last Monday of freedom came to an end.

The streets of Uster on a weekday resembled the Old West. Nobody around, nobody anywhere. Children left school only at 3 PM, and most people worked until 5 or, in some cases, 6 PM. Most of Lucas's customers arrived at lunchtime or during weekends, since everyone was busy during weekdays. Although occasionally some foreigners passing through would request appointments, it was uncommon to see Swiss customers on those days.

Due to the low flow of customers, Lucas invited Andrea to keep him company at his shop. After all, the store was about the size of a 60 m² apartment, and had a small office where he also coordinated with clients. Andrea was precisely in that office, writing.

Andrea was a book reviewer but also a romance novelist. He was quite well-known in his country, though less so abroad, as his publications were exclusively in Italian.

"Do you want me to cook something today? I can make ravioli and a salad," Andrea said.

It was already Wednesday, and these past few days they'd shared had been very special for Lucas. He felt pampered by Andrea. In his mind, the questions Andrea had initially asked about himself and what he sought resonated more deeply. He now felt he understood him a bit better. Furthermore, he was growing increasingly curious to know Andrea more profoundly. They understood each other perfectly in bed, in the kitchen too, and he even liked how Andrea helped with household chores. However, something slightly bothered him: Andrea tended to expose his pheromones significantly and sometimes marked his gland. Lucas attributed it to Andrea's character, thinking perhaps it was typical of him, given that they'd known each other for barely a month.

Hours passed, and no other customers came, except a couple who bought some lights. Their previous lights had faults, and they didn't want to risk the road since they were just passing through the country.

When Lucas was about to close, the last thing he wanted to be occurred: he saw that man again.

"Hey, beta. We've been looking for spare parts all over Zurich, and maybe you have them," said Raffael.

"Forgive him. Forgive us for coming so late. We didn't mean to bother you, but I'm desperate for some chains," added his companion.

As Lucas watched Raffael, he couldn't help but wonder why he wasn't with the same person as last time. Did he have multiple lovers?

Meanwhile, the intensity in Raffael's voice—paired with his commanding tone—caught Andrea’s attention. Curious, he stepped out of the office to see who was speaking to Lucas like that. As he approached, a faint but distinct scent of sandalwood reached him: Raffael’s pheromones. Subtle, yet unmistakably dominant.

Instinctively, Andrea covered his mouth, uncomfortable with the smell, and Lucas rushed to see what was happening. Then Raffael spoke again, making everyone uncomfortable:

"Are you an omega? Do you like my pheromones? I'm sure I'd be a better lover than that beta."

Chapter Text

"Are you aware that the owner of this establishment is a beta? And yet you come here, acting superior and flirting with my partner?"

As footsteps approached, Lucas's jaw tightened as he spoke to the alpha standing in front of him. The veins on his neck stood out, and although his voice was calm on the surface, it carried a deep and simmering anger. His clenched fists showed how much effort he was making to not pounce on Raffael. He wasn't sweating, but his heart was pounding, his breathing heavy, and the rush of blood to his face made him flush with fury. His feet were firmly planted, facing Raffael directly, as an equal.

Lucas used his body to shield Andrea from the alpha's sight, making it clear he wouldn't tolerate any disrespect toward what mattered most to him. In the silence of the empty street, his firm voice echoed down the block. While many believed that a beta's voice lacked weight—due to the absence of pheromones or a so-called “command voice”—this time, his voice held an authority that others often buried.

Andrea was visibly uncomfortable with Raffael's words, feeling a strange mix of guilt and shame for the impure thoughts that crossed his mind. To him, Lucas didn't seem like a beta—he looked like a powerful alpha. His body, his presence, made Andrea feel safe, and his “instincts” told him Lucas was the one.

Despite the calm expression on his face, Lucas's mind was filled with dark, violent thoughts about how to get rid of Raffael without going to prison—just to live in peace.

"Damn this alpha and his arrogance. Damn the day I met him. I'm tired of this shit—I just want to kill him, tear him apart, make him disappear, burn him alive."

"Damn this world where I can't live in peace. Why does he keep coming to my shop? Out of fifty others in this city, why here?"

"I just want a peaceful life. A life where I can breathe without being judged. Where I can exist like anyone else without paying the price for being who I am. Even the air in this country feels too heavy to breathe."

Raffael smiled widely, convinced he had full control of the situation. Without even realizing it, he began to release pheromones—sharp and oppressive, like thousands of needles directed straight at Lucas. The intensity was so strong that both Andrea and Raffael's omega companion tensed instantly.

Raffael tilted his head slightly to the left, his shoulders squared, hands buried in the pockets of his expensive suit. He smirked, trying to show the watching crowd who was really in control. His jaw was lifted with pride, convinced no one could challenge him. His goal was simple: to dominate the insolent beta.

"I had a feeling you were stupid," Lucas said coldly, "but now I'm sure. I'm immune to pheromones."

Like many alphas who ignored basic gender biology lessons, Raffael had forgotten that betas were naturally immune to pheromones. They could only sense their essence faintly—like a lingering perfume—if it was extremely strong or during rut, but otherwise, they remained unaffected.

He wanted to see Lucas broken—kneeling, begging for mercy. But before he could act, Lucas moved in front of Andrea again, this time turning his back to Raffael to block him completely. Raffael's lips twisted in frustration. His eyes opened wide, and his teeth ground together audibly. He didn't even notice that his own omega companion was now suffering from the same pheromones he was unleashing. He was too blinded by ego.

The tension grew. Children screamed. Parents shouted they were calling the police. Elderly bystanders hurled insults at the arrogant alpha. Raffael finally snapped out of his haze and realized the crowd was siding with Lucas. People demanded he leave, yelling that this wasn't the place for his drama. The mockery in their voices echoed in his ears.

"Get out," Lucas said with a calm smile. "I'm not the only one saying it. The neighbors agree."

At some point, during Raffael's arrogant trance, his omega companion had quietly moved to Lucas's side, seeking protection—his face now marked by fear and disappointment.

"LEAVE!" Lucas shouted firmly. "If I ever see you near my partner again, there will be consequences."

For the first time in his life, Raffael retreated—humiliated, surrounded by mockery and whispers. He had never experienced such a public, humiliating defeat.

Lucas turned to Raffael's omega companion.

"Are you okay?"

Andrea cut in harshly.

"If he's fine, then he can go."

Lucas, surprised by Andrea's sudden hostility, tried to ease the tension.

"Easy, Andrea." He turned back to the omega. "Do you have someone who can pick you up? No rush."

Lucas temporarily closed the shop and led Andrea to the back room to talk.

"What's going on with you? He didn't do anything wrong."

Andrea crossed his arms and placed his hands on his hips, clearly agitated.
"I just don't like how he looks at you. I want him gone."

"This isn't a game. He's affected too. Try to understand."

Andrea knew Lucas was right. Still, he hated seeing anyone else get close. He wanted Lucas to himself. More than anything, he wished Lucas wasn't just a beta—he wanted him to be untouchable by others.

When Lucas returned, the omega was noticeably calmer. To everyone's surprise, he began explaining something no one had even asked: he had been born into a wealthy family and promised to Raffael in marriage since childhood. He revealed that Raffael's family—the powerful Llochers—held significant influence in national politics and the global arms industry.

A wave of anxiety washed over Lucas. The danger was real. His mind raced: If something happens… who would help me?

"Valentina," he muttered, the name slipping out before he could stop himself. She was the one person he could count on—for contacts, advice, or protection if things ever escalated.

The omega noticed and gave a small smile.

"If anything happens, here's my card. I'll help you. You've been incredibly kind."

Lucas felt slightly embarrassed that the omega had heard his anxious rambling, but he appreciated the offer. In his years in marketing, he had learned: contacts meant survival. In a world as dark and hypocritical as his, it was better to live than be right.

"Oh—my ride is here," said the omega.

"Wait—take the chains with you. I want you to have them."

"No, please. Actually… would you like to have dinner sometime? I'd like to apologize properly and maybe introduce you to a few investors."

Lucas's eyes widened. Investors? He accepted instantly. He couldn't miss that chance. Of course, as a careful beta, he would never go alone. Always move in packs when ambush is possible. He handed the omega his number and smiled politely.

Andrea didn't say a word during their exchange. He refused to say goodbye to the omega—especially not after hearing the dinner invitation. He understood that an investor could be a great opportunity for Lucas… but not if there was another omega around. He needed to go too. He needed to protect his man.

He knew those thoughts weren't right, but he couldn't stop them. And worst of all, they were getting stronger.

Andrea thought back to what he'd been feeling before Lucas had interrupted him. Maybe those old fables about castes and their changes… weren't so far from the truth.

His initial irritation had slowly evolved into a dark, consuming possessiveness. Deep down, he began to wish that Lucas belonged to another caste—so that no one else could ever take him away.

Glossary

Command Voice: An instinctive ability some alphas have to influence or dominate others through a pheromone-charged verbal command.

Chapter Text

The wind in the streets of Zurich caressed his face as he rode his BMW R 18 B. Raffael was passionate about motorcycles of all kinds, but he had a special preference for German models. Thanks to his impressive collection, he knew the workshops of the major suppliers by heart, and rarely needed to set foot in a small one—until a few days ago. Lucas' local shop, modest at first glance, had surprised him so much that he had no choice but to stop—although he hated to admit it—and pick up a spare part he wouldn't have found on his usual routes.

“I’m Too Sexy” blasted through his headphones.

Stupid beta. That was all Raffael could think about after experiencing the greatest humiliation of his life. And worst of all, his companion had abandoned him, fleeing as if the pheromones he emitted were overpowering. Rage—and even deeper, pure fury—still boiled within him, alongside a desperate need for revenge.

Where had he gone wrong? Was it just for making a sarcastic comment to an omega? All omegas, most alphas, and especially betas usually fell for his charms. 

From a nearby corner—and even among some passersby crossing the street—people began to stare, not just at his motorcycle, but at him.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO THEY SEE IN HIM?!" Raffael shouted without expecting an answer.

The pedestrians jumped back in fear and hurried away. Raffael tightened his grip on the handlebars, the leather of his gloves squeaking under the pressure. He couldn't understand why those two omegas had sought protection behind someone else—someone who was not him, the superior ALPHA. In his mind, an omega should have been grateful that someone like him, who didn’t waste time on just anyone, found him attractive enough to flirt.

"We're the same height, the same build… maybe he's a little more tanned. We both have large hands. His hair's curly, mine is straight... and, well, he does have a pretty attractive smile."

"WHAT THE HELL AM I THINKING?!" he scolded himself under his breath.

Traffic lights changed colors again and again, letting cars pass while he sat there, motionless. Only when an angry honk snapped him out of his thoughts did he remember—he was supposed to visit his parents. It had been too long since he'd seen them.

Behind him, someone shouted, “HEY, MORON, IT’S RED!”

Raffael didn’t even bother to check. He simply gunned the engine and shot down Greifenseestraße at over 120 km/h, not caring if he got a ticket. Right now, he didn’t care about anything. He just wanted to feel the speed, the clean city air, the green fields, and the peaceful streets. Born and raised in Switzerland, he considered himself fortunate: he lacked nothing and could do whatever he pleased—without regrets.

His parents lived in Küsnacht, in the prestigious Goldküste, the "Golden Coast" of Zurich. The house where he grew up was a small mansion with an indoor pool and a private dock on the lake. Every weekend, they hosted lively parties with their closest friends. That mansion held the happiest memories of his childhood: running through the corridors, watching his parents openly show their love for each other.

Now, at thirty-three, Raffael still witnessed those displays without fully understanding how two people could love each other so much. He imagined that someday he would "settle down" with an omega of his own social standing—unique, perfect, and tailored for him—someone to build a future with, just like his parents had done. But that time hadn't come yet. And worse: he hadn't found a single omega truly worth it.

"Papi, Mami... I'm home. Your one and only perfect son has returned," he announced dramatically as he entered.

That day could not have been more chaotic—a black hole of emotions and images he wished he could unsee. He knew these things happened, especially now that he lived on his own, and assumed they would happen less frequently as his parents aged. Even though his parents—a dominant alpha female and a dominant omega male—were now both in their sixties, well...

Raffael tiptoed down the hallway, assuming they'd be watching TV in their bedroom since the living room was empty. Without knocking, he flung open the door:

"AHHHHHH, A PERVERT, HELP!!!" his mother screamed.

"MY EYES! I'M DYING!!!"

"Raffael?" gasped his father in confusion.

"GET OUT!!!" his mother shouted.

Mortified, Raffael bolted into the garden to catch his breath. He considered asking one of the maids for some bleach—or better yet, acid—to pour over his eyes. He had stumbled upon something he had hoped never to see again, something he had accidentally discovered once in his teenage years. And yet, even then, he hadn't sensed any pheromones coming from his parents...

"Ahhh... fated mates," Raffael sighed heavily.

A mind felt insatiable, a heart pounded wildly, and nails raked fiercely down a bare back. The moans that should have filled the place were muffled beneath a firm hand pressed over a lover’s lips, while the heat in the room fogged everything in its path.
“Do you like my pheromones?” he whispered.

After their encounter at Lucas’ workshop, they had decided to have dinner at home. They stopped by the supermarket to pick up a few things. Andrea had suggested cooking something traditional from his hometown in the last few days he had left before returning to Italy.

Only a week and a couple of days remained. Andrea remembered that his rut would arrive in three weeks, and he still hadn’t found a steady partner to spend it with. Although he had dated several betas, he had never gone through a rut with one; usually, he would isolate himself with an alpha for four days. It was said that a beta couldn’t satisfy an omega, and without an alpha, both would suffer.

Andrea recalled the moments he had shared with Lucas and couldn’t help but think Lucas had enough stamina. That brief midday encounter had been enough to spark hope. He remembered the warmth of Lucas’ touch, his hand brushing gently against his neck. He remembered how it had made him feel—whole, happy, and thrilled by the idea of sharing those special days with someone who wasn’t just a passing lover.

With Lucas, he could imagine a future. As a good writer, Andrea spun stories from a glance, created entire lives from a single smile. Lucas made him feel complete, as if he were full yet still craving more. But above all, Lucas made him feel safe. Earlier that same day, Lucas had protected him with nothing more than his presence.

“What’s wrong?” Lucas asked.

“Nothing… I just love seeing you smile,” Andrea replied with a tender look.

What more could he possibly ask for? Lucas gave him his full attention, carried his bag without complaint, ignored the stares of strangers, gently wiped away his sweat, stole kisses, and whispered softly:
“Why are you so beautiful?”

When they reached the garage, Lucas carefully helped him off the motorcycle and removed his helmet with tenderness. 

They walked hand in hand, took the elevator up, and as soon as they reached the apartment, Lucas wrapped him in a tight embrace, kissing him and burying his face in his neck like a loyal dog who only wanted to be close to its master.

They laughed together, ate, and collapsed into bed, exhausted.

The next morning, the alarm went off at eleven. Andrea, who rarely slept so long, realized he felt so at home that his body had completely relaxed.

When he opened his eyes, the space next to him was empty. A knot of anxiety tightened his chest: had Lucas left without saying goodbye? He thought about calling him, but hesitated. Although they hadn’t talked more about the omega incident—and he knew it had been resolved—he still had doubts about whether Lucas was uncomfortable with his jealousy.

He got up and headed toward the bathroom.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Lucas greeted him as he entered.

"Why didn't you go to work?" Andrea asked.

"Yesterday was too much for you. I'm staying home with you today," Lucas replied with a smile.

Without a word, Andrea threw himself into Lucas' arms, feeling the softness of his clothes, running his hands over his toned abdomen. He buried his face in Lucas' shirt, inhaling the faint scent of lavender from the fabric softener—wishing he could feel the deeper connection his instincts craved. He quickly dismissed the thought and instead showered Lucas with kisses and playful bites.

"Hey, that hurts!" Lucas laughed.

"Lucas... would you like to spend my rut with me?" Andrea asked shyly.

Glossary

Goldküste (Golden Coast): One of the most exclusive lakeside areas in Zurich, famous for its luxury properties and breathtaking views.

Papi and Mami: A common, affectionate way to refer to parents in the country. 

Chapter Text

It wasn’t the first time someone had made him that kind of proposal, but this time felt different. He could tell the intention wasn’t just to have a good time. He felt the tension of giving an answer that might not have a way back, but he said what his heart felt, and he was grateful it was Andrea who made the first move.

“If I say yes, what’s the plan?” Lucas asked.

Andrea thought it wasn’t worth being selfish with someone like him, or possessive. Lucas was a blank page—honest and straightforward. In his answers, Andrea found everything he’d been looking for. He could trust him, and he thought that after going through the rut together, it might be the perfect moment to make things official, to confess his love, to get lost together.

After so many failed attempts, at thirty, Andrea had eaten dirt more times than he could count in search of the right one. Despite his fear of getting hurt, Lucas—through his simplicity, his attention, his glances—had shown him more in less than a month than many had in years.

It’s curious how the human mind, when it doesn’t work through its weaknesses, can fall into two extremes: change completely if things don’t go as expected, or blind itself with fear of losing what it believes is perfect.

Right after Lucas’s affirmative answer, Andrea went blank when he saw him step aside to make a call.

He followed, curious, and realized he was speaking with Valentina. Something inside made him feel uneasy. Andrea knew he’d be the perfect companion for that upcoming meeting with investors—most likely all alphas or omegas—but maybe love still didn’t make him a priority in Lucas’s eyes.

For a moment, he thought life was handing him a fate he’d have to correct, grow, or simply erase. And with those thoughts came more questions: Was it immaturity? Jealousy? Or genuine love? Or just the desire to protect what he believed was his?

“Miss, we’re calling because your number has been selected as the winner of a raffle. You just need to deposit one thousand francs…”
“Oh, really? Hold on, please. I’ll call the police right now… don’t hang up.”

Andrea felt a strange heat in his chest. Something primal.

He watched Lucas laugh hard, but that wasn’t what hurt most—it was the look he gave the other person through the screen.

He didn’t understand the friendship between them. They were too close. In all his years, he’d never had friends he interacted with like that. Valentina seemed kind, calm, witty… but with Lucas, they transformed. They were like teenagers pulling pranks together.

Not even with Bastian was it like that. And the strangest part was that both he and his cousin came from a country others considered “friendly,” but Andrea knew reality was different—especially if you were from the south or the north.

He saw Lucas hang up and thought about telling him he wanted to go to the meeting, but he was interrupted:
“Babe, Valentina’s with Bastian. How about we go have dinner at her place?”

Andrea couldn’t say no to that face. He couldn’t refuse. Besides, he’d stayed to spend time with him, and they’d already agreed they’d share the rut—only the when and where were missing.

“Alright, but let’s bring something. We can’t show up empty-handed.”

After stopping at the supermarket for a bottle of wine, they headed to the bus station. Chances were they’d come back a bit tipsy, so they didn’t take the bike.

At the station, Lucas picked up a newspaper, and Andrea noticed his tense expression. He was clenching his teeth, veins standing out at his temples. His beautiful smile was gone.

Even though Andrea didn’t speak German, Switzerland had four official languages, so he could always find information in his own. He saw the paper’s name and looked it up online in Italian.

The full-color headline read:
“THE HATRED TOWARDS OUR SUPERIORITY”

An alpha of about twenty-five had been found dead in his apartment after breaking up with a beta.

But there was also a smaller article, barely eighty words, about the death of a beta. It said his head had been found in a shoebox, while the rest of the body was still missing. They labeled it as gang-related. The headline: “Revenge Among Criminals.”

When he noticed Lucas behind him, Andrea locked his phone automatically, as if he’d done something wrong. He felt guilty, ashamed. A fleeting thought crossed his mind—maybe they were criminals. After all, newspapers wouldn’t lie about something like that… would they?

“It’s always the same… they call us criminals,” Lucas muttered.

Lucas called him over as the bus approached. They had to run—it only came every thirty minutes. Andrea let the subject drop, but the idea lingered like a thorn he couldn’t pull out.

As the bus rolled on, Andrea saw it was nearly empty. Five in the afternoon. A quiet area, full of greenery, with farmers walking cows. In the distance, Lake Greifensee shimmered, and in the window’s reflection, he saw the face of the man he liked.

Lucas knew perfectly well that Andrea’s mind had wandered into the wrong thoughts about the murdered beta. He felt disappointed, but thought maybe, not being from here, Andrea couldn’t truly understand what it meant.

Their hands were intertwined. The air conditioning kept them comfortable. Their thoughts, their annoyances, their fears… faded for a while. They just watched the scenery.

Lucas usually listened to music on public transport—it helped him relax against the disrespectful stares. He didn’t think of himself as an Adonis, but he knew he drew attention.

When they arrived, they quickened their pace toward Valentina’s house. The heat was unbearable.

“Ma’am, I’ve arrived with the prize I promised you over the phone,” Lucas joked.
“Shut up, idiot!” Valentina laughed, smacking him on the forehead.

The house was medium-sized, like Lucas’s, but with a lake view. Andrea felt relaxed there. He even forgot to speak to Bastian, who was staying with other friends. Like any omega, he only had eyes for his partner.

“How are things going?” Andrea asked.
“What’s with the question? Did Lucas or she say something?” Bastian shot back.
“Why so defensive?” Andrea replied.

Bastian could be prickly when asked about his life. Though they were close, Andrea noticed he became especially guarded when it came to Valentina. He didn’t think it was suspicious—he chalked it up to overprotectiveness. He dropped the subject and went to look for Lucas.

When night came, after dinner and laughter, Andrea remembered Lucas had warned him: no more buses after ten p.m., so he’d better remind him if he got distracted.

When the wind changes and the lake breeze shifts, it carries strange sounds—animals, screams, pain, laughter… anxieties, doubts, but above all, fears.

Not finding Lucas, Andrea remembered he hadn’t checked the balcony. There, he saw Valentina hugging Lucas, and Lucas hugging her back. Her arms around his waist. His hand stroking her hair, her back, brushing strands from her face with a special tenderness. He couldn’t hear what they were saying.

And that laugh… that mischievous laugh you don’t show just anyone. The one that only comes when love is real. Eyes closed. Voice warm.

Andrea couldn’t take it.

After sleeping together, planning the rut, using pet names… how could he watch that scene?

Friends didn’t hug like that. Didn’t look at each other like that.

And Lucas had told him he didn’t like women.

Then, a question hit him:
If I covered Lucas with my pheromones… would he change?

Andrea cut the thought. Buried it deep.

But the adrenaline was already there. Anxiety clouded his reason.

Without thinking twice, he stepped forward, pulled them apart, and slapped Valentina across the face with all his strength.

She fell to the floor, hitting her head, and began to cry.

“VALENTINA!!!” Lucas shouted.
“I KNOW YOU AND SHE HAVE SOMETHING! YOU’RE MINE!” Andrea yelled.

Chapter Text

Andrea was trembling—not from fear, but from rage. A corrupted kind of hatred surged through his body like an adrenaline rush, crossing every limit, letting emotion sweep through and leave nothing behind.

“Repeat what you just said,” Valentina demanded, her voice tight with restrained fury.

Bastian ran in desperation at the sound of a scream. He realized that for some reason—despite Valentina’s tense face and fixed gaze on Andrea—she was crying. She couldn’t stop clutching the back of her head.

When he got closer, he saw a crimson-red stain on the balcony wall: the impact had been so strong her head was bleeding.

For an instant, Andrea felt a twinge of shame under the weight of everyone’s eyes. But it didn’t take long for irrationality to take over. His omega possessiveness flared to the surface.

Valentina was furious. She couldn’t understand how the situation had been so misread. Under other circumstances, she would have sought dialogue, but this time was different—especially after physical aggression. Her mind was locked in a loop of revenge, of fleeting hatred pushed forward by adrenaline.

She wanted to scream at Andrea, to tell him he was a fucking idiot who didn’t know how to use his brain. That he was the reason she avoided alphas and omegas altogether. That they were all the same: possessive, irrational, ignorant. But she also knew that, as a beta, she needed to act rationally. If she said those words, Bastian—still standing beside her—would get hurt in the crossfire.

“I’m asking you to leave. If you don’t, I’ll call the police,” Valentina said calmly.

“The police? Hahaha! You’re a beta. Between you and me, who do you think they’ll listen to?” Andrea sneered, laughing and pointing at her with his index finger.

Only two people kept their eyes on Andrea, except for Bastian. He was the only one who knew his cousin’s true personality. He knew Andrea wasn’t what he seemed. Despite his calm demeanor, he was suffocating. Bastian had met his previous partners—none of them satisfied him emotionally, and none had been important enough for him to travel to another country and stay there… like he had for Lucas.

Maybe that’s why—as an omega himself—Bastian could understand the obsession. He too was possessive when in love. That was why he hesitated to confront his cousin. But his concern for Valentina outweighed it.

With her, everything moved slower. As an omega, intimacy with someone of his own caste was easy: just scent the other’s pheromones and you could read their intentions. But Valentina was a beta, and that changed everything. Betas saw life differently, behaved differently. Often he didn’t know how to read her. He didn’t know if there was something between them or if he was imagining it.

He pushed those thoughts aside to help her.

“Leave, Andrea. Now,” Bastian said.

It didn’t surprise Andrea that Bastian took Valentina’s side. Any omega who saw their partner crying—and bleeding—would defend them without hesitation. Lucas was disappointed. He couldn’t fathom Andrea attacking her.

At that moment, he wondered: Was this the same man who’d been by my side all those days? Or someone else? Who was this person in front of me, eyes brimming with rage?

“Let’s go. I’ll take you home so you can get your things, and then to a hotel,” Lucas said.

“Leave? But it’s her fault! I’m just protecting you!”

“I don’t need protecting!” Lucas shot back.

“Enough! Lucas, take him. I need to go to the ER. If you keep shouting, the police will come,” Valentina cut in.

If it had been anyone else, Lucas would have left them there and gone with Valentina. But this was Andrea. And even though what he had done was inexcusable, the illusion of the moments they’d shared clouded his judgment. He wanted to forgive him.

He hated himself for feeling that way. He thought about pheromones, about instinct. But deep down, he knew it was all a lie. In the end, alphas and omegas were still rational humans. The rest was pure immaturity and obsession.

In a cold room, on hard seats that only caused pain, a couple waited their turn. There were people of all kinds—different castes and social classes. Only those who looked like they were dying were given priority.

The ER in Switzerland was just like anywhere else: hours of waiting while some bled or cried in desperation.

“So, three stitches and two weeks of medical leave,” the doctor said, not looking up.

“Doctor, I start a new job in four days. I can’t take leave,” Valentina replied.

“You betas are really stubborn. It’s not like you can’t be replaced,” the doctor muttered, as if she hadn’t spoken at all.

Valentina didn’t respond. It wasn’t worth it. She stayed quiet, her focus on not losing the job—despite the kind of contempt she already knew too well. At least Bastian was with her, even if he would soon return to Italy. Somehow, she felt she’d have to thank him for being there.

She also noticed Bastian didn’t say a word to the doctor. He didn’t even seem to catch the other intention behind his words.

Bastian knew the doctor was right. He knew Valentina was starting a new job, but also that there would always be other betas to replace her for a few days. Advertising? How hard could it be? He pictured an office, an idea, and a joint in hand.

When they returned home, it was almost five in the morning. They were exhausted. Valentina wanted to talk—especially about the day before. She planned to tell Lucas about the meeting with the lawyer and everything else. But now it didn’t seem worth it. She decided to leave it for another time.

“I’m asking you not to contact Lucas for a few days,” Bastian said.

“But I want to know what happened,” Valentina replied.

“Lucas is going to forgive Andrea. So it’s better if you keep your distance,” he affirmed.

Valentina didn’t understand what he meant. She’d known Lucas for years. She knew he didn’t tolerate violence unless it had a real justification. Bastian seemed so certain. Even though she doubted him, she still decided to send a simple text: Are you okay? Then she set her phone face down on the table.

The painkiller injection was starting to take effect. She didn’t feel pain—just a deep, heavy relaxation. She was excited about starting her new job. She thought she’d soon stop worrying about money. Even though it had only been two weeks, living in Zurich was a daily battle where only the wealthiest survived.

She lay on her left side, next to Bastian, and hugged him. She kissed his hands, grateful for his presence. She liked him enough to ask him to go with her to the doctor or sleep beside her. He didn’t feel like the other alphas or omegas who only wanted a beta out of curiosity. He was different.

At thirty, Valentina had gotten used to dating only betas. After bad experiences with alphas and the occasional omega, she preferred simpler relationships. With betas, everything was more straightforward—no pheromones, no instinct. Just clear intentions. Except when a female beta was in rut—that was another story.

As she thought about her past relationships, she felt a hand on her leg. Subtle, but with intent. Then it grabbed her ass, slid up her back, and held her neck firmly.

“Bastian, I’m drugged… haha. I can’t do it tonight,” she said.

“Come on, just a little. I’ve been waiting for you,” he replied.

“No, I can’t. I have a patch on my head,” Valentina insisted.

Bastian’s reaction was cold. He pressed his lips together, fixed his gaze on her, and pulled his arm away. He turned to the other side, leaving Valentina confused. She thought she had done something wrong, and apologized over and over as if she’d committed a crime.

All she could see was Bastian’s back, not his face. That saddened her. She didn’t think he was wrong—she thought maybe he was right. Maybe, she thought, at thirty things were supposed to move faster, right?

“I’m sorry,” Valentina said, lowering her face in resignation.

Bastian turned the moment she gave in. His attitude shifted instantly. He smiled again and leaned in to kiss her. But just then, his phone rang.

When Bastian read the message, his face flushed with anger. He jumped out of bed, and in the movement, Valentina’s head lightly bumped the headboard. Clutching the phone, veins standing out on his neck, he stepped toward her with an icy gaze.

“Didn’t I tell you not to contact him?” he spat, cornering her against the edge of the bed.

Chapter Text

“Haha, Bastián, you’re scaring me. Stop joking like that…”

Valentina couldn’t explain it, but something felt contradictory.
Her body screamed danger.
Her mind detected something out of place.
But her feelings said:
“It’s your fault. Fix it.”

She didn’t know how to describe it, but deep in her subconscious, a voice kept telling her she was crazy. That she shouldn’t doubt him.

She knew she hadn’t done anything wrong. She knew it.
But her heart—slightly poisoned by crossed signals—insisted she had. That something had happened. That, somehow, she needed to pay for it.

“I told you Lucas would forgive Andrea, didn’t I?”
“Are you in love with Lucas?”

Visibly irritated, Bastián didn’t wait for an answer.
He crawled across the bed until he was right in front of Valentina. With his right hand, he gripped her chin. He wanted to dominate her, to make her his. He didn’t know why, but he wanted that woman—that beta with the distant gaze and pale face—to ask for his forgiveness for sins she hadn’t committed.

He wanted her to kneel and tell him she belonged only to him. That everyone should know she only had eyes for him. That she should feel grateful that he, an omega, had chosen her.

Valentina wanted to run, but her body was frozen. At the same time, she wanted to hold him. Mixed signals, senseless.

Something inside her told her she should apologize. That she should heal him. Tell him everything would be fine.

Her mind screamed that she needed to make it clear she had never had anything with Lucas, that she saw him like a brother, that she was an only child and that was the reason for that kind of connection.

“Bastián, let’s do it tomorrow if you want. Just give me a couple of hours, please,” she said, trying to sound excited.
“Tomorrow I go back to Moneglia. Come Friday night,” Bastián imposed.

How could she say no? How could she refuse?
She didn’t even think about it—she agreed. But as soon as she spoke the words, her mind screamed it wasn’t the right thing to do.

In a few hours, she would start a new job. She didn’t know how it would go. She didn’t have enough money to spend on trips. But those thoughts vanished.

Her heart told her it was the right thing to do. That she needed to fix things with him. That talking to Lucas had been a mistake.

That night, nothing else happened. They both rested as if nothing had occurred.

Although Valentina wanted to contact Lucas, she kept telling herself it wasn’t the best idea. She would wait for him to reach out first to know what had happened.

The next morning, Valentina woke at 6:00 a.m. to get ready for her first day at work. She was nervous. She hadn’t chosen her clothes the night before, distracted by everything that had happened with Bastián.

Without thinking much, she went straight to the shower. She protected her wound and covered it from the water as best she could.

To her surprise, Bastián also got up and decided to make breakfast. While they ate, he told her she shouldn’t go to work. He repeated the doctor’s words: to ask for leave, to rest, to quit if necessary. That her health came first—for her and for him, who cared about her well-being.

Bastián’s words made her feel cared for. For a moment, she felt he truly considered her.

But she couldn’t miss her first day. She loved what she did. She would take her medicine and rest early. She knew her refusal would affect Bastián, so she asked him for forgiveness and understanding. She explained that she needed the money if she wanted to see him more often.

“Do you want me to take you to the airport?” she asked, trying to sound cheerful.
“No. I’ll take the train at 10 a.m.,” Bastián replied curtly.

The answer was like a stab. She felt he was leaving because she had rejected him. Her mind filled with mixed thoughts: anxiety, guilt about her age, fear of never finding anyone else. Or worse—of not finding someone as kind as him.

By 7:30 a.m., Valentina was ready to leave. As they said goodbye, Bastián took her hand, led her to the door, and gently stroked her hair.

Valentina was surprised. That gesture calmed her: maybe her thoughts were just passing anxiety.

“Everything will be fine, right?” he said, as if forgiveness were an obligation.

Valentina didn’t answer. But in her head, the question kept echoing.

They kissed, and she got in her car. It was a secondhand car. Like many Swiss, she preferred to avoid leasing contracts. It was functional, nice, and cheap—perfect for Zurich’s narrow, winding streets.

Twenty minutes before her shift started, she found a parking spot near the agency—a miracle. She walked calmly, though with a headache. The wound was still open.

As she walked, she thought about Andrea. She hadn’t spoken about the matter with Bastián.

What surprised her most was not having received even a single message from Lucas. Not a “Are you okay?” nor a “Good luck on your first day.”

She wanted to call him. To know what had happened. But just as the more detailed thoughts began to form, she arrived at the office and decided to block them out.

The agency was in the old part of the city, near St. Peter’s Church. From the outside, it looked like a stone-decorated house. Inside, it was modern and well laid out.

She checked in at reception and waited. While she looked at her phone, she wished for a message from Lucas. There was nothing. She blocked the thought again. Just then, her new bosses arrived.

They led her to the meeting room, designed for about twelve people. They began explaining the current projects and those they hoped to secure.

After four hours of meetings, it was lunchtime.

Sometimes, regardless of age, many feel embarrassed on the first day. Many prefer to eat alone, pretending they’re full or that they brought food. It’s not insecurity—it’s part of a society that’s molded us to appear confident.

Valentina went to the nearby supermarket, bought a sandwich, and ate alone.

Later, she had a lighter meeting to meet the team and her office: a private room with a lake view. Beautiful, but full of responsibility.

She was nervous. Her palms were sweaty. Her chest pounded. She doubted herself. Had they chosen her because she was a beta and would cost less?

She tried to calm down, making small hand gestures. She focused on reading the briefs and learning the agency’s structure.

The day continued with internal organization. Although the first week was supposed to be easy, it wouldn’t be. She coordinated with the accounts department for the next day’s meetings.

The agency was small, with 40 employees from all castes. A strange but pleasant environment. Her bosses were an omega and a beta, both around forty.

The day went well. Around 7 p.m., she received an email about a project that hadn’t been mentioned in the general meeting. They would go over it the next day. Her heart raced.

She had five projects. One was for an international fast-food chain, which she would work on with her bosses.

Three more were events or catalogs she had to update weekly.

But the last one… the last one made her tremble.

It was a bid for a telecommunications company.
Not just any—the same one Alex had been working with for the past seven years.

The bid was to cover 70% of the client’s needs. In other words, they were looking to cut costs and maybe, in the future, work with just one agency. A monster of a contract. Not even her former agency, Bruness, had that percentage. They only handled 30%, corresponding to the digital area.

If we win… will they fire Alex? Does the company not want to work with Bruness anymore? she thought nervously.

She knew Erick wouldn’t let that client go. If he had to crush anyone to keep them, he would.

She turned off the monitor.

But her head began to throb. The wound was still open. No one at the agency knew.

She knew that in bids, participants were rarely revealed until afterward.

But if Erick used his influence, he would find out.

And if that happened, it would be the start of a war. An unprecedented one. A war between her and him.

Glossary

Leasing: Long-term car rental with the option to buy at the end.
Briefs: A short document summarizing the objectives, target audience, message, and creative approach of a campaign.

Chapter Text

Once upon a time, there was a little human being, raised by hardworking parents who inspired her to want only one thing: to make money.

A little being who rarely saw them, because they had to earn every franc to bring money home. So she had to grow up on her own.

When she realized that life wasn't easy, and that money didn't fall from trees, she told herself that maybe it was better to stay in childhood. Because the world, she thought, was made of goodbyes... and of starting over.

🎵 Now playing: "End of Beginning" – Djo

It was eight in the evening, and Valentina was driving home. The day had flown by.

Her fear, her anxiety, that little voice whispering everything would go wrong—had been drowned out by thoughts of new projects.

It hadn't been a bad day. Maybe—just maybe—this would be a good week. Despite the bloody patch on her head, and that last email.

Maybe she just needed to see the bright side: she had a job, she had a home, she still had family... and someone she liked.

She connected the Bluetooth and let the music fill the car. The road was empty, the headlights marked her path, and the cows on the roadside seemed to greet her silently.

🎵 Now playing: "Todome no Ichigeki - Vaundy ft. Cory Wong"

When she got to her apartment, she parked and ran inside. She turned on her speaker and played the same song from the drive. She wanted to sing along, even if she didn't know the language. She sang the chorus anyway, because she knew what it meant.

After repeating the song at least ten times, she lowered the volume and peeked out the window to see if any neighbor was spying. In Switzerland, you were only allowed to make noise until 10 p.m., so it was best to be cautious.

She checked her phone and saw a couple of messages from Bastian. He said he had arrived safely, asked how her day had been, and whether her head felt better.

She thought he might be angry, but at the end of his message he told her not to worry about replying, that he knew she must be busy, and to take care of herself. He ended with how excited he was to see her Friday.

"Shit, I better look for plane tickets for this Friday," she muttered reluctantly.

At eleven, she bought the ticket, did her skincare routine, and went to sleep. The next day would be her second day—she needed rest.

When she woke up, she realized she was late. She hadn't prepared breakfast or lunch. She knew she had to save money, especially during the trial period.

She rushed to the car, praying the day wouldn't get any worse. But there was no parking. She circled three times. Nothing. She hit the steering wheel in frustration, leaned back—and accidentally knocked her head, forgetting about the wound.

"Oww," she groaned.

She finally found a spot five blocks away. She ran to the agency. Luckily, only the receptionist was there. She greeted her and went straight to her desk.

She took a deep breath and removed her coat. Her head was throbbing. It was bleeding.

She panicked, touching the wound, looking for more blood. She spun around, frantic. But she calmed down once she saw it wasn't much.

"Valentina, see you in 30 minutes to discuss the tender," her beta boss shouted from the first floor.

The agency, being small, had a casual atmosphere. That helped, but she still wanted to maintain professionalism, afraid of being judged.

She printed the email, read the summary, took a painkiller, and tied her hair up to hide any blood.

"Alright everyone, get ready. This will be a heavy meeting," said her omega boss.

The meeting was tedious. They reviewed the client's objectives, contract duration, and their chances against other agencies.

Valentina knew who the client was: a multinational telecommunications company with a presence on other continents. The project would be national but with regional expansion. They'd need to prepare campaign concepts and almost-realistic budgets.

Each department head received a 20-page report with dates, legal guidelines, and requirements. This tender was war.

Valentina knew one thing: the owners were alphas who only surrounded themselves with their caste. Most of the managers were omegas.

The company claimed to support inclusion, but in practice—despite recent reforms in omega rights and respect for betas—she had never seen a beta in a high-ranking position.

"Do you really think we can win? It's a five-year contract," asked the head of editing.

Valentina snapped back to reality. Winning meant prestige and money, but also pressure. They'd always be walking a tightrope. One mistake and they'd be marked.

"We'll need to prepare a cost catalog," she said quietly.

"That's right, Valentina, you know them, don't you? You're our ace in the hole," her beta boss said.

She felt a chill. Her head throbbed. She felt nauseous. For a second, she wondered if they had only hired her because she knew the other company.

"Yes, but I never worked with them directly. I only did commercials, and that was through account managers," she replied, anxious.

"That doesn't matter. What matters is that you know them," he insisted.

The others looked surprised, but also motivated. There was hope.

"Do we know which other agencies are participating?" Valentina asked.

"No, but we're working on it. Though I think your former agency might be one of them," her omega boss replied.

It was lunchtime, but it felt just like the end of the previous day: filled with anxiety. She would be seeing Erick and Raffael even in her dreams.

The other meetings were postponed. All focus was on this 50-million-franc-a-year tender.

On her way to the supermarket, she saw a group of well-dressed men drinking by the lake. She hadn't even noticed the good weather.

She walked absentmindedly, until someone called her name. When she turned, he was already there:

"Miss Bischoff, I still haven't received a reply to our conversation," said Bastián's lawyer friend.

Chapter Text

She didn't know whether to turn around—it felt like she'd done something wrong. Like a kid caught stealing a chocolate bar from the corner store. All those feelings, just because she hadn't yet responded to the lawyer. Nerves. A tightness in her chest. Her pupils widening beyond normal. Around her, many people were witnessing something that shouldn't be seen.

Where can I run? She thought.

—"Mr. Prötzell, how are you?" Valentina asked, her politeness slightly forced.

—"Thank you. And you? Do you work nearby?" he replied with formal neutrality.

—"I haven't forgotten your proposal. I apologize," she said, lowering her gaze slightly.

Sometimes, the people you meet along the way can change everything—for better or worse. And for Valentina, this might end up being for the better.

The lawyer she'd previously met worked for a mid-tier firm. But his greatest strengths weren't just that Bastian had introduced him, but that he had expertise in labor law—and more importantly, he knew Erick Hardmeiers very well.

They exchanged a few polite words on a street near the river. But since too many people were passing by—and given how sensitive the topic was—this alpha caste man invited her to lunch.

Internally, Valentina didn't want to. She didn't want to spend another franc. In her mind, she pictured herself ripping her hair out and screaming to the sky that she was bankrupt. Every time she tried to save money, it slipped through her fingers—and even more so in a moment like this.

Unfortunately, she couldn't say no. You could call it cultural etiquette, but really, it was that she might never get another chance like this.

She accepted graciously and ordered something simple with a glass of water. The alpha did the same.

As they chatted and refreshed their memories of the previous meeting, Valentina's thoughts wandered back to the day she returned to her old office demanding her pay—or rather, being told by others why she didn't deserve it.

—"When could I expect your answer?" the lawyer asked, direct, no fluff.

—"Please give me a month. I just started a new job and need to get organized," she replied, unable to fully hide her anxiety.

The lawyer paused for a few seconds, then spoke. He told Valentina that he normally didn't wait on anyone's answer—and that her case was the exception. A very typical trait in people from this country was their bluntness. They didn't hide what they thought. They just said it.

That's why he repeated what he'd told her once before:

"You're a beta. Taking your case would put my career at risk."

A beta usually doesn't move alone. Not because they can't—but because they've learned that, when making dangerous choices, it's best to have someone watching your back. And while Valentina stood there alone, she knew that if something happened, she had Lucas, her mother, her father—and maybe even Bastian—as her pack.

—"I understand I'm a risk," she said, "but there must be a very strong reason for you to risk so much… right?"

The lawyer was surprised. He wasn't used to being answered with the same intensity he gave. Most clients stayed quiet, nodded, obeyed. He was the expert, after all. But Valentina didn't. And yes, he did have very clear reasons to take that risk—but this wasn't the moment to reveal them. Not yet.

They continued chatting until Valentina's alarm buzzed.

—"I'm sorry, my break's over. Can you tell me how much I owe?"

—"Don't worry. I'll cover it. But in exchange, I expect a reply in exactly one month," he said, calm and measured.

Saving is power. Thank you, God, Valentina cried internally, dramatically promising she'd eat all her vegetables from now on.

One month. That's what they agreed. It was Tuesday the 19th—she had four weeks to make a decision that could change everything.

She stood and left politely. But under the stares of several onlookers (apparently alphas and omegas), anyone crossing her path could read it in her eyes: hatred. In the sound of her heels: defiance. In her arms: a stiffness that cut the air. And in her stride: someone walking fast—yet carrying a heavy weight.

It was only four blocks back to the office. But during those ten minutes, the lawyer's words echoed in her mind:

"You gave your life to that company and quit for a just cause. So fight for it. You're entitled to your unpaid vacation. To your sick leave. To everyday you worked. But above all… You're entitled to respect."

Respect. That's what she wanted. What she longed for.

To be seen—as an equal.

**

In another part of the city, surrounded by fewer concrete walls and more trees, with hands stained from chains and grease, was Lucas.

He liked to believe he didn't ignore the world around him—but unconsciously, he often did. Some things made sense. Others spun into such deep chaos, they became black holes in his mind.

To stop thinking, he threw himself into his work. Last weekend had been chaos. He didn't know how to act—or rather, he did, but didn't want to make the wrong call.

He'd thought about contacting Valentina more than once. But he didn't want to hurt Andrea.

It was Tuesday, and the day was almost over. He needed to return to his apartment—a place that used to feel dull but now felt warm. He glanced at the red poster on his wall and remembered that Saturday—Valentina crying and bleeding on the balcony after Andrea slapped her.

Likewise, he remembered the arguments that night, and the next morning. How they slept apart. How he couldn't bring himself to throw Andrea out. Andrea explained everything he thought he saw. Lucas forgave him—but part of him still doubted.

In the days after the fight, Andrea admitted he'd misunderstood what happened. That he hadn't actually heard what was said. But he couldn't understand what was going on between Lucas and Valentina.

To Andrea, even between betas, the body had a purpose. One invaded, the other surrendered. Unless it was family, every bond had to lead to sex or control.

He was convinced that a simple friendship between him and Lucas was impossible. So he asked Lucas to really consider what he wanted between them.

Lucas had told him not to rush things. But Andrea was blunt—biology didn't care about emotions or pauses. It demanded only one thing: reproduction.

That word echoed in Lucas's head.

He'd never once imagined anything romantic with Valentina. He'd never been attracted to women. But with her, he felt comfortable. Extremely so.

Still, Andrea's doubts had planted seeds in his own mind.

By 5 p.m., Lucas closed up shop and headed home. He wasn't riding his motorcycle anymore—just taking the train. Lately, he didn't feel like doing much.

Even in the crowded train, he felt out of place. Watched. Like people could smell something wrong on him. Contaminated. It made his skin crawl.

And that's why he hated public transport.

When he got home, Andrea was already there, smiling, with the table set. Lucas felt spoiled. He couldn't help but smile back.

—"Babe, I have to head back this Sunday," Andrea said, gently.

Lucas came back to reality. His smile faded. Andrea was going back to Itäly. And because of everything that had happened, they hadn't even planned around his rut.

—"Andrea… when is your rut?" Lucas asked, serious now.

It might have seemed out of place—but it wasn't. Andrea knew this talk was coming. In fact, he wanted it.

He needed to coordinate with Lucas. Needed to know how much he really understood about omega rut, especially since Lucas was a beta. Andrea had never been with a beta. He wasn't sure if it would work. He'd heard mixed things.

Being an omega in control was one thing. Being controlled by someone else… was another.

Lucas noticed Andrea's breathing and pulse speed up. He bit his lower lip. Shifted his weight from foot to foot. Bit his nails.

He wanted to ask something—but wasn't sure how.

It reminded Lucas of Valentina.

He burst out laughing.

Betas didn't have pheromones like alphas or omegas—but they could read people. Their biology let them sense rhythm, breath, movement. A different kind of sensitivity.

—"What's so funny?" Andrea pouted.—"Haha, you're so easy to read. If she were here, she'd say the same," Lucas grinned.

Shit, Lucas thought. He'd promised not to bring up Valentina.

But his mind had a habit of betraying him.

And as he looked at Andrea's furrowed brow, his clenched fists, and the serious look in his eyes, he wondered:

Maybe… when bodies are built to fit together—friendship stops being an option.

Chapter Text

"Oh… you miss her a lot, don't you? CALL HER, CALL HER RIGHT NOW! I WANT TO HEAR HER!" Andrea shouted, his voice possessive, almost suffocating.

He could taste the bile rising on his tongue. He felt hatred, humiliation, and at the same time, a visceral need to claim Lucas as his.

What was Lucas supposed to say under that kind of pressure? He didn't understand what was happening. He knew they weren't official, they didn't know each other well enough—yet still, Andrea made that claim.

Lucas knew Andrea didn't need to say it outright or repeat it—he understood firsthand how alphas acted when possessive, or omegas when out of control. But unlike what was whispered in dark alleys or romantic novels, the ones most blinded were those who, for a bit of affection, tried to cage what was never meant to be tamed.

"I think you're confusing me with someone else, Andrea. And as far as I remember, you hit her over a MISUNDERSTANDING," Lucas said firmly.

He didn't give Andrea time to reply. He grabbed his things and, even though Andrea asked where he was going, Lucas simply closed the door behind him.

At first, Lucas had planned to visit Valentina, but he remembered she had just started her new job—and worse, he hadn't texted her since the accident. Embarrassed, he decided to clear his mind first.

As he drove down the highway, he considered visiting his mothers—he hadn't seen them in a month—but he figured they'd ask what was wrong with him and his bad mood, so he let the idea go. He didn't want to go anywhere in particular, but also wanted to be everywhere. He didn't know how to handle what he was feeling. Furthermore, he'd never been in a situation like this before.

He ended up stopping at a gas station to grab a drink. Maybe if he ate or drank something, he'd think more clearly. Often, when you least expect it, you run into people you thought you'd never see again.

"Oh, a prince! Haha, sorry—I didn't know how to break the ice. I thought I'd never see you again," said someone from inside the store.

"Not today, please. I already have enough problems without you being another one," Lucas said with clear exhaustion.

It was his ex. They hadn't seen each other in three years. There were many reasons they broke up, but the main one was his ex's infidelity. They had been together for four years, and everyone thought they were perfect for each other because of how similarly they viewed life. But life has its twists—and no one expected the betrayal to come from the one who seemed the most in love.

Lucas' ex was quite attractive—about the same height as Andrea—but a beta. Their relationship had started with a lot of love, but toward the end, one of them felt neglected.

"I know you hate me, but I'd like to help—just once. You look disturbed," his ex said compassionately.

Years had passed. Lucas had blocked him everywhere and swore he'd never forgive him. But now, seeing him again, he realized he had forgiven him long ago.

"I don't hate you, but I can't forget what you did. Though I admit, I could use some advice," Lucas said directly.

His ex listened closely as Lucas talked about someone new who made his heart race. There was a bittersweet ache in his chest—he, too, had once been that person.

Lucas wasn't great at opening up. He was used to bottling things up, hoping time would fix them. Whenever he had a problem, he'd distract himself with tasks to avoid overthinking.

They talked for hours. Nothing happened between them—both could feel the spark was gone. They had matured in their own ways. What remained were the memories of better times.

"You should talk to him. Don't dig—just ask directly," his ex advised kindly.

"But…"

"No buts, Lucas. In relationships, it's better to be upfront. You know, I always waited for you. I knew how much you loved me. But what I needed was for you to come home and ask if I was okay. Unfortunately, you were too late—again," he said, heartbroken.

Lucas apologized. Back then, he was a workaholic who always got home past ten. If they had started with an open relationship, things might have turned out differently—but they hadn't. His ex admitted he had acted immaturely, out of sadness, and never really communicated honestly.

They sat on wooden chairs at the edge of a forest, where the gas station met the road and the trees. They looked each other in the eyes—for the first time in years—and hugged briefly.

"I really did love you. But I think we weren't the right people at the right time."

Lucas felt his cheeks flush, warmth rising from his hands to his face. At the same time, a cold winter breeze brushed his face. He remembered how, back home, there used to be a container with a home-cooked meal waiting on the table with a note: "I missed you." And another one in the fridge that read: "It's Friday tomorrow, let's go out to dinner."

"I did love you. Let's not see each other again, haha," his ex said.

"That's what I hope" Lucas replied, much calmer now.

"Talk to him—but don't lay everything out at once. Take your time, stop running away, and use your brain, dumbass!" his ex shouted as he walked toward his car.

Lucas didn't respond. He waved goodbye, as if everything had finally been resolved, and there was no need to remember anymore.

He had forgotten how good it felt to talk to him—how it helped him think clearly again. Likewise, he decided to head back to his apartment but figured it was best to let things settle a bit more, so he took the first exit off the highway and drove toward his workshop.

As he was about to arrive, he wondered if he should write or call Andrea in the morning to talk calmly about what was happening and where they wanted to go.

It was already eleven at night. The streets were empty, cloaked in a sepulchral silence. The last thing he wanted was someone calling the police. He parked in front of the shop to open the garage, but noticed a shadow. He wasn't sure if it was a homeless person or a drunk, so he approached cautiously.

"I'm sorry, forgive me, please… I love you," Andrea said, crying.

Lucas was in shock. He had never given Andrea the shop's address—he always took him there by motorcycle.

"I called Valentina. I asked for the address. I apologized to her. But if you want, we can go right now, and I'll get on my knees to ask her forgiveness," Andrea was inconsolable.

Lucas was surprised by Andrea's actions, but he also felt nervous. That guilt, those tears—it all reminded him of his ex crying and begging for forgiveness after being caught.

Lucas spoke quickly but softly to calm Andrea down. He said they'd talk inside, that it wasn't the time or place. Before Andrea could spiral further, Lucas kissed his forehead, wiped his tears with his own shirt, and asked him to help put the bike away.

They spent the whole night talking. Lucas didn't open the shop the next day because he wanted to fix things with Andrea. He didn't like the idea—every day closed was a day lost—but he genuinely wanted to fix things. Especially because Andrea had come looking for him. No one had ever done that before. Lucas was always the one chasing others—but after his ex, he no longer chased anyone.

Every sentence Andrea said came with an apology and tears. Lucas felt responsible for him, so he kept giving him drinks out of fear he'd dehydrate from crying so much.

They slept the entire morning. They didn't talk about the issue until the afternoon. Even then, they kept changing the subject, unsure how to begin or what to say.

"Lucas, I love you," Andrea said, looking at the floor.

"Andrea, it's only been a month. Do you realize what you're saying?" Lucas asked, skeptical.

He couldn't understand it. Truly. He knew they had a good connection, many things in common, and that Andrea made him feel at home like no one ever had. But he couldn't grasp how Andrea had developed feelings so quickly.

Lucas took getting to know someone seriously. He didn't like meaningless relationships, and if something in his chest told him someone wasn't right, he'd walk away. But with Andrea, it was different. Everything had felt different from day one.

"Tell me something—what do you want from me?" Lucas asked seriously.

"EVERYTHING," Andrea said passionately.

Everything. That word echoed in Lucas's mind. Everything meant everything—and at the same time, nothing.

Everything meant: a forever? Everything now? Wherever destiny takes us?

Too many questions for one word. Too many answers for such a short time.

Lucas took a deep breath for almost two minutes, gathered strength, and said:

"Let's get to know each other better. Let's see how things go. If they flow, great. But if one of us hesitates, it's better we go our separate ways," Lucas said firmly.

"Okay," Andrea replied with a big smile.

They didn't talk about it anymore. They left it there, both exhausted. Furthermore, they agreed to take another nap before tackling the rest. Once at the apartment, they both wanted to be close—but at least one of them didn't feel it was right yet.

Three days passed. Friday arrived. They hadn't been intimate again, and Andrea would be leaving on Sunday. Things had started to improve.

They agreed to talk more calmly later about how Andrea got Valentina's number and how he would apologize properly. Lucas also had to apologize—despite the incident, he hadn't contacted Valentina after Andrea called her. But she hadn't contacted him either. He began to suspect something was going on but chose to think about it later. No need for baseless theories.

The day had started well. He had made several sales since reopening and was in a good mood.

Lunch hour arrived.

"Good afternoon. Do you have a carbon AGB helmet?"

"I'm not selling you shit," Lucas replied without even looking up.

Chapter Text

Friday had finally arrived, bringing with it rain and the first hints of winds that were no longer warm. She hadn't packed her bags for the weekend—days had gone by at an absurd speed. The fears she'd felt on Monday and Tuesday, and the uncertainty of her future, seemed to have vanished. She began to feel a bit more confident in herself, even if it felt fleeting. She wanted to believe everything would be okay… at least until her test was over.

"Mmm, what am I missing? Underwear, perfume, suppressants… I think that's everything," Valentina murmured, uncertain.

It was six in the morning. She had decided to wake up early to prepare everything. Her plan was to take her suitcase to work and then head straight to the airport—it was the fastest way to get to him. Even though she was on a tight budget, she realized it had been a good investment. She wanted to see him. It had only been a few days, but she already missed him.

Once everything was ready, she remembered she had to call Lorenzo to coordinate… but first, she needed to talk to Lucas. Despite everything that had happened in the past few days, she had to make things right with him. She also needed his support for the upcoming meeting.

Since she'd be flying out after work, she chose to take public transportation. It wasn't ideal during rush hour, but it was the most practical option. She lived in a rural area, so she had to take two connections: first a bus, then a train. When she arrived at work, she crossed the parking lot and, as if the day was mocking her, noticed more free spots than ever before.

"Good morning," Valentina said with a bright smile.

"Valentina! How's it going with the numbers for the bid?" asked the accounts manager.

The days had flown by because of the bidding process. While other brands had come in during the week, her focus was entirely on the telecom company. According to the last meeting, they had agreed to send a draft proposal before the official pitch, just to make sure they were on the right track.

"Do you have time at 2 p.m.? I'd like to go over a few things," Valentina said seriously.

She had been gathering information ever since the announcement of the bid. Not only had she reviewed the client's website, but she had also reconnected with her former coworker, Alex.

After the awkward moment last week—when someone had interrupted them before they could talk—she decided to call him directly and apologize for how that day ended. She didn't mention the real reason behind the call; she just said she wanted to close that chapter properly.

To her relief, Alex didn't take it the wrong way. On the contrary, he was happy that she'd found someone, even if he was surprised it was an omega. As they talked and recalled old times, the conversation naturally shifted to the problems at her former agency.

Valentina tensed up. Her chest felt heavy. She nearly said something but stopped herself. She didn't ask questions, didn't push—she just listened as her former coworker shared:

"Miguel's falling apart. Since you left, it's been chaos. He fights with accounts every day. Before, we'd stay until 9 p.m.—now we're stuck here until 2 in the morning. I swear, I don't know what to do anymore. I'm not sleeping. And the worst part? They promoted the intern. Well, not officially, but they're giving him senior-level projects… and still paying him like a junior. Every single day, someone tells Miguel he never should've let you quit without a replacement. But he shuts them down and says we don't need anyone."

Valentina wanted to laugh. She could taste a hint of bitter-sweet revenge in her mouth, but she knew it wasn't right. Her former colleagues were suffering, and worse—she felt anxious, sad, and deeply hurt. Projects she'd poured years into, campaigns she had overseen… it was all going down the drain.

At one point, when she quit, she thought they wouldn't survive without her. That she was the best. Maybe it was adrenaline or the confidence of having left no major mistakes behind—or at least fixing them in time—but deep down, she knew everyone was replaceable. Just like she left, someone else would come in to fix things… or destroy them.

At two sharp, in the emergency meeting with her bosses and the account director, Valentina began by highlighting the positives: the progress made. But then she had to be honest—especially about the logistical issues that were keeping her up at night.

"I ran the numbers, and we have a problem with the travel-related items. Based on their requirements, they're asking for 20 short film-style videos each year, shot in different parts of the continent, all for the same flat rate… which is just not viable. Suppliers, scheduling, transport—none of it adds up. But what worries me most is their pricing cap. It doesn't generate any profit. In fact, it only covers about half the logistical costs for an average team. Even my former agency wouldn't take that deal. And if we win this bid as it stands… we'll be facing a loss of five hundred million francs."

Silence. The room froze. Sweat started to run down her back. Her heart pounded—not because she had said anything wrong, but because she was still on probation, and this could easily cost her the job.

"But I have a solution. I don't know what you'll think, but I figured we could absorb the losses into higher-margin projects. I know it sounds risky, but that's where accounts comes in. We could propose more pieces to the client, loop in the creative team, and that way we could improve the profit flow. We'd also need to invest in some in-house equipment. Otherwise… there's no way to win this. And I know Burnes—they'll probably bid on everything except this part," Valentina said confidently.

A wave of adrenaline hit her. If her bosses pushed back, she was ready to stand her ground. She would simply say she spoke from experience. That she didn't care anymore. That she preferred being honest over staying silent out of fear.

"Let's do it. I want you to outline the per-video logistics costs so Jeremya and I can work around this," said Elías, her beta boss, sighing in relief.

"Thank you. This is why we hired you," said Karl, her omega boss, with a wide smile.

It was the first time Valentina had been thanked like that for her work—or rather, for her opinion. She felt incredibly happy. Proud of herself. She wasn't used to it, but it felt good. She thought about messaging Bastian to tell him what had just happened… but decided to wait until she was on her way to the airport.

At exactly seven, she tidied up her desk. The thought of coming back Monday to a mess unsettled her. She had always believed that a clean space helped her think more clearly—or at least it always had before.

Just as she was about to leave her office, Karl appeared unexpectedly.

"Looks like someone's about to have a very passionate weekend," he said sarcastically.

"Excuse me?" Valentina looked at him, confused.

"Your eyes, woman. You're in heat, aren't you?"

The cycle had begun. According to her calculations, it was supposed to start the next day, but it had come early. It was never perfectly timed—it could vary—but she usually had a rough idea.

It wasn't like an omega's heat, but after what Karl had said, she realized why she'd been so desperate to see Bastian. In her case, it would last about a day and a half.

She shut her eyes in despair. Apologies spilled out of her mouth. She opened her suitcase, searching for her suppressant. Shame surged from her hands to her face. She turned bright red. She felt dirty. Improper.

"Valentina, calm down. You've done nothing wrong. I'm an omega—look at me. You haven't done anything wrong," said her boss, gently trying to take her hands.

"Sir… I'm sorry. I'll try to always carry my neutralizers with me," she replied with a trembling voice.

"Valentina… you haven't done anything wrong. It's just your cycle. Take your suppressant and that's it. Also… your scent is actually quite nice," Karl added kindly.

She couldn't process it. Nice? That word echoed in her head again and again. As a beta, she'd been taught since school never to emit her scent. To never leave a trace of her biology. That she must never, under any circumstance, show signs of being in heat.

Thirty minutes passed. She came out of her daze and headed to the restroom to make sure her eyes had returned to their normal color—and that her body had stopped emitting scent.

Karl had already left. She felt calmer. But she couldn't wait any longer—she had to rush to the airport if she didn't want to miss her flight. She ordered a taxi. When she unlocked her phone, she saw a message from Bastian.

WChat —Honey, I'm sorry. I won't be able to see you this weekend. Something came up. I'll tell you later. Kisses.

She didn't know whether to cry, scream, or laugh. Rage. Frustration. Her hands clenched. She bit her lip to stop herself from bursting into hysterical laughter right there in the office.

She knew it wasn't her fault… or so she thought. But he could've warned her earlier. He'd had all day. Then she stopped herself—his grandparents were still alive. Maybe… something had happened to them.

WChat —Did something bad happen? Do you need anything? Call me when you can.

**

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, footsteps echoed with purpose. An imposing presence arrived—someone no one had invited, yet who always made himself known.

"Haha… I didn't come to fight. And we both know you need the money."

Raffael knew he wouldn't be welcome. Not by Lucas. After their last encounter, he'd sworn never to return to this neighborhood. But as if fate was mocking him, he had to swallow his pride.

He had searched everywhere for a helmet that no supplier had. Even called overseas. Nothing. He found it only outside the continent—but it would take three months to arrive.

"I don't have it. It's been out of stock for months," Lucas said with disdain.

Lucas felt Raffael's eyes scanning him. Like he had something on his face. Like he was analyzing his chest. That made him feel tense. He straightened his back, lifted his chin, and hardened his gaze. He felt the other man trying to assert dominance—again.

"What? Do you like me?" Lucas said, sarcastic.

Raffael froze. His face darkened, caught between disgust and shock. It had never even crossed his mind to be with a beta. Especially him. He stepped back, visibly uncomfortable.

"You should talk to your omega… or you'll start losing clients."

"Watch your next words," Lucas growled.

"HAHAHA. You're such an idiot. Stupid beta… someone bathed you in pheromones."

Silence.

Lucas went still. He knew what a pheromone bath was. His mothers had explained it to him in detail. And now… some things made sense.

Raffael noticed the silence. He figured Lucas had no idea, so he sighed and said, almost resigned:

"Look...I'm not a fan of your kind. But if you don't disperse it, you're going to lose a lot of customers. Consider it an apology for last time."

Once Raffael left, Lucas locked up the shop. He couldn't stop thinking about what he'd just heard.

He was a beta. He couldn't detect pheromones the way others could. He could only sense the scent if it was emitted on purpose—not if it clung to his body. He'd never asked for that bath. Never wanted it. But if a client—especially one who wasn't beta—caught the scent, they'd leave. And Lucas couldn't afford that.

It was almost 9 p.m. The day had been endless. He hadn't even realized he'd kept the shop closed for four hours, lost in thought.

Ten missed calls from Andrea. Ten messages asking if he was okay, why he wasn't answering.

He wanted to call. He wanted to ask directly if it was true. But he also knew… that wasn't the way.

It had been days since he'd last seen Valentina. And now, more than ever, he needed her.

Incoming call"Hey… I'm sorry," Lucas said, heart heavy.

"What do you want me to say? That I forgive you?" Valentina replied, sarcasm lacing her voice.

"…Can we meet? Can you come to my shop? Buy me a pheromone suppressor from the drugstore for me...."

Chapter Text

Buying a pheromone suppressor was never easy for a beta. It was frowned upon—something whispered about in alleys—because why would someone who can't smell pheromones need one? Why would an alpha or omega get involved with someone who can't perceive them?

The creation of suppressors came with two "strong reasons." One was for "pure" alphas and omegas in emergencies, and the other was to control the pheromones of the "recessive." But in this world, there was always a third option—because helping the invisible wasn't the goal; it was about turning them into profit.

"Good evening, one pheromone suppressor, please," Valentina said, visibly uncomfortable.

She noticed the pharmacist's eyes drop to the floor before responding, yet she could still sense stares piercing her back like claws aiming for her neck.

"Sure—wait here, I'll wrap it in a black bag," the pharmacist said with a forced smile.
"No need—I'll put it in my purse, thank you," Valentina replied, also masking her tension.

As she left the pharmacy, she felt like everyone watched her steps, making her feel like a stain that should not be seen.

Yet, none of that mattered anymore. Even though her weekend had been ruined, she was finally going to fix things with Lucas. Too much had happened—everything needed to be talked through.

Arriving at Lucas's place, she noticed the exterior lights were off. Strange—when he worked late, he usually kept them on in case of emergencies.

Knock, knock—the door opened.

"Give me the suppressor," Lucas said, irritated.
"Hi, ¿how are you? How's everything? ¡I missed you too—PLEASE FORGIVE ME!" she blurted out.

It wasn't that Lucas didn't miss her or wanted to apologize—it was that he felt fed up, disgusted, and overwhelmed. He needed to cleanse himself of that sensation and those pheromones—something invisible, yet marking him.

"I'll explain later, but spray me with it—everywhere."

Lucas stripped down to his underwear. Valentina didn't flinch—they were too used to seeing each other naked; acts like this had become tacit between them.

Once Valentina finished spraying every inch of Lucas's body, he began to speak:

"Raffael told me Andrea gave me a pheromone shower."
"A pheromone shower? ¿No, hold on… RAFFAEL?"

He started recounting everything from the beginning, detailing his encounters with Raffael.

Before he continued, Valentina needed to know that Andrea knew they were together. It wasn't fear—it was avoiding another sharp betrayal.

"He leaves Sunday—I told him I had too much work," Lucas said, drained.

"Lucas, I want to know everything—but not like this. Not waiting for him to show up out of nowhere. Go home—even if you don't want to—but hold on a little more."

Lucas knew she was right. He couldn't confront Andrea yet. Talking with someone outside their bubble gave perspectives he didn't want to see.

He'd begun to suspect Andrea might be manipulating him—and Valentina shared that hypothesis. That was why confrontation was premature: he needed to analyze the before, during, and after, and—most importantly—what he didn't yet know.

"Are you in heat, right?" Lucas stared at her.
"I took a neutralizer six hours ago," Valentina replied, startled.
"I can faintly smell jasmine. Are you sure it's been six hours? Where's Bastian?"

If Lucas could smell her scent, it meant the pills weren't working properly. The medication was supposed to last another two hours.

"You haven't slept with him yet, right?"

Valentina confirmed his suspicion. They hadn't been intimate yet—whether because the moment hadn't come, or someone had interrupted. But that wasn't the real problem. For a beta who hadn't released tension in over a year, the medication's effects would weaken. Worse: the body would start showing signs of strain.

"Don't overuse anti-inflammatories. You know how this works," Lucas said, clearly annoyed.

They said goodbye, each taking their own path, agreeing to meet again on Sunday. It was necessary. They both had so much to talk about. And not only that—Valentina still hadn't told Lucas about Lorenzo's party.

___________________________________________________________________________________

When she got home, she set two goals: relax, and stop thinking about anything—or anyone—else.

She didn't unpack, took a shower, lit a caramel-coffee-scented candle, got into bed, placed her phone to the side, and turned off the lights.

She had to do it. She had to calm herself down—or her body would slowly consume her.

She started gently, removing her pajamas. Then she poured edible oil into her hands and began rubbing it over her breasts. She slid it delicately around each nipple and pressed them softly.

She didn't want to think about it. But her body did.
She wanted Bastian to do it for her. She wanted his hands—not her own.

She cupped her breasts and imagined him whispering in her ear:
"I know what you like. I know what you want. I know you want me to lick you."

She continued massaging herself, slower this time, sliding her hands up to her neck, covering it entirely.
She wanted the oil to hide everything. She wanted to feel possessed. She didn't want to be the one in control.

Not only that, but she slowly brought her hands up to her lips. When her fingers touched them, she licked them. She loved the chocolate flavor—it turned her on.
The oil was taking effect, and the heat between her legs was growing.

She bit her lip, made soft sounds, and lowered her hands from her mouth to her waist.
She imagined him holding her, looking at her, desiring her, dominating her.

She wanted friction. She wanted to feel his shaft at her lips—wanted to lick it, squeeze it.
And with those thoughts, she slid two fingers inside her vulva.

She felt the warmth on her fingers, the wetness, the lewd sounds as they sank deeper.

She started stroking her G-spot, moaning softly. Once, twice—by the third time, she rubbed her clit with her palm. She wanted to hear him say—with absolute confidence—that yes, he could feel himself inside her.

She kept playing with her fingers and palm, her hand slick with her own juices, her lips swollen, pressing harder on her clit.
She wanted more. Something inside her needed to push her to the edge.

The chocolate flavor on her lips now tasted bitter. Her hand moved frantically while something stirred inside—nervous, delightful.
Then she stopped suddenly, rubbing her G-spot harder. She moaned again—then rubbed her clit once more.

With her right hand, she grabbed both breasts, pinching a nipple. In her mind, all she wanted was to ride him, move wildly, tie him down, lick him, bite him—and show him she was the one in control.

The tension built. Something was coming. It felt good. Every time she stroked her clit, her mind unraveled—her legs trembled, her nipples hardened, and the wet sounds from between her thighs grew louder.

A wave of pleasure, of heat, of release made her moan so loud—all she wanted was more. She needed it. And she didn't plan to stop that night.

By the next morning, she was exhausted.
She had four orgasms—all by herself.
Even though her body still craved a few more, her heat was finally nearing its end.
But at least now she felt lighter.
Her body required affection.
She needed to be kind to herself. Otherwise, the consequences would be brutal.

That Saturday night, she finally unpacked everything.
No messages from Bastian.
But after all those orgasms, she was so drained that she didn't feel like texting him either.

She took a bath and considered writing to Lucas, but she knew it was better to wait until the next day when they were supposed to meet.
His situation was already tense enough—there was no point adding more discomfort.

_________________________________________________________________________

A few hours later, in a crowded train station filled with laughter and tears, stood a beta and an omega—a couple who didn't just want to reunite to satisfy their urges—but because there were things left unresolved.
And if the heart truly wanted to take root, those things had to be faced.

"Have a good trip," Lucas said softly.
"You're going to miss me, right?" Andrea asked, tears in his eyes.

They had agreed: Lucas would visit Andrea in a week to be with him during his rut.
It was a promise made—and one that had to be kept.

Even though Lucas's mind was filled with a thousand tangled thoughts,
he was a man of his word.

Chapter Text

"You're early—I thought you'd come later," Valentina said, surprised.

"Have you considered locking the door? Something could happen," Lucas replied, turning the key.

"Ha, ha, ha—what do you mean? I live in the countryside, who would attack me?" Valentina stared at him.

In the city, leaving the door unlocked was almost inconceivable; paranoia had become routine. But in the countryside, life was different. Almost everyone knew each other, and the idea of being attacked still seemed exaggerated—though many were starting to say times were changing.

As night approached, their comfort with each other grew more palpable. It had been weeks since they cooked and watched movies together.

Although an easy normalcy had returned, they still hadn't addressed the unspoken reason for their meeting.

At some point, Valentina paused, looked at Lucas lying on the couch, took a breath, and began. She poured out everything that had troubled her: her daily worries, and what was happening in her heart and mind.

Each confession made her feel more guilty—admitting her attraction to Bastian, that they hadn't been intimate because she didn't think it was right, that she doubted whether her behavior was appropriate given her age, and that she wasn't used to becoming physical so quickly due to her last relationships.

Her hesitation with Bastian after a couple of dates was due to her own fears, but also from getting to know him deeply. She knew she fell in love extremely fast, and that would only bring consequences.

When the night arrived, and she had almost nothing left to say, she sat on the floor in front of Lucas and, looking at him with uncertainty, said:

"I shouldn't be here. We had agreed I'd visit this weekend, but something happened and, just before heading to the train station, he canceled on me. Do you think he's seeing someone else?"

Without skipping a beat, Lucas answered his best friend's doubt with irony:

"Do you think he's upset because you haven't given him your *mumu yet?" Lucas said with a big fake smile, baring his teeth.

Lucas joked, but then grew serious. They both knew that if Bastian's reason was that, he wasn't worth it.

"I don't know, but this is bothering me. Maybe I should push a bit more, right?" she said, rubbing her arms.

"Valentina, regardless, it's been a year since you've had sex. You can't survive on your fingers forever," Lucas reproached her.

Her best friend was right. Reproaching her again, he made her think: though she could satisfy herself a bit, she needed to try other methods for health reasons. Not mere vanity—her body made itself known every month.

The consequences for a beta not passing heat weren't the same as for an omega or alpha. They were less severe, but time still took its toll.

That was why she set a goal: to do it with Bastian. Otherwise, she'd need to find something else to satisfy herself or suffer worsening migraines and other symptoms.

"Alright, alright. I'll text him to see how he's doing. By the way, tell me—what happened with Andrea?"

"Uff, okay. I'll start," Lucas said, staring at the ceiling.

"WAIT, WAIT! You think I forgot? Okay, repeat that bit about Raffael…" Valentina said, narrowing her eyes.

"SHIT, SLOW DOWN! Let's go step by step…" Lucas said, sighing.

Calm as he seemed, Lucas was often very much like Valentina—explosive, as well as critical and mocking of their lives.

He recounted in detail how they'd handled the situation so far, and his suspicions that Andrea had a jealousy attack. But somehow, as he got deeper into his thoughts, he felt he couldn't tell her everything.

The Lucas Valentina knew wasn't patient with complicated people—especially after what happened with his ex.

For several seconds he stared at the floor, clenched his fists, sighed, and realized he felt embarrassed and distrustful—that his best friend might mock his behavior with Andrea, that he wasn't as strong as he appeared.

But Valentina knew him well. She got up from the floor and moved closer to him. As a beta, she noticed Lucas's breathing had changed—slower, deeper—and that he was avoiding her gaze.

"Lucas, if you don't want to tell me, I understand and respect that—but don't lie or change the subject for no reason," Valentina said, taking his hands.

"Am I that obvious? Damn beta," Lucas said, teary-eyed.

He took another breath and hugged Valentina in the corner of the couch. He couldn't hold back anymore. He asked her not to look at him, but also not to judge him—because he didn't understand himself either.

Not only that, but he made a joke, saying he was getting old and therefore softer, or that Andrea was so beautiful, and he missed the signs—but most of all, that he missed being with someone.

Valentina never even thought to judge him because she'd noticed that he wasn't the only one who was different or changed. But she agreed that age sometimes made them more naive.

"I think they've cursed us, hahaha," Valentina said, squeezing Lucas's cheeks.

"Do you think so?" he said, surprised.

"It's a joke, idiot. Witchcraft doesn't exist. Well, I don't believe—I mean, at least not me," she said seriously.

"I know, stupid. Let me joke, at least," Lucas said, getting serious again.

When their laughter subsided, Lucas returned to the main topic: his doubts about Andrea's behavior, and whether it stemmed from jealousy or something else. But he emphasized that if Raffael hadn't intervened, he wouldn't have noticed.

For a moment, Lucas fell silent and began thinking about the things that had happened recently. He even thought he should thank Raffael for the heads-up, but then remembered it came as an apology from the alpha.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he told Valentina how he'd reconnected with Raffael, and about the last "accident they had."

Valentina felt uncomfortable—not because something might happen, but because even after working with him for years, she didn't really know him. She only knew the rumors.

"Stay away from those people as much as possible. You know we're just ants to them," Valentina said worriedly.

She wasn't sure whether Raffael was a bad person—she only had gossip about his flings and his inseparable bond with Erick.

She noted that they truly were from different worlds. The difference between being an alpha—who already had weight in society—and being the "alpha" was worlds apart.

Though she didn't deeply understand the other castes, at 32 she'd witnessed enough exceptions. Something told her Raffael's circle were not easy people—and that it wouldn't be hard for them to crush many ants with a single step.

They decided to change the subject abruptly since it was late. The hours flew by, so they finally agreed to sleep.

"If you snore, I'll kick you," Lucas said with a fierce look.

"Don't mess with me, it's my house."

"I don't care."

As Lucas reached to switch off the bedside lamp, Valentina let out a scream: she'd forgotten to mention Lorenzo's party, coming in less than a month.

Lucas eyed her suspiciously and, before she even spoke, interrupted to refuse. Valentina hadn't asked yet, but he knew her perfectly and knew she'd drag him into something complicated.

"You tell me to be careful, then you want me to walk into the wolf's den, you crazy cat," Lucas said, scolding her.

"It's work, it's money…" she pouted.

Lucas could never say no to Valentina—or at least not when it came to having her back. He knew she'd do the same for him, but his initial refusal was because he had no intention of getting into more drama—and even less of seeing that kind of people again.

_______________________________________________________________________________

Glossary:mumu: colloquial term for vulva in their country.

Chapter Text

After spending Sunday together, the week began to take its usual course, echoing each step with the stress of work.
The days were no longer as hot—they had begun to shift. The heat was slowly fading, and people started bundling up. The seasons were following their natural path, preparing for the arrival of the next one. With it, summer’s laughter would soon be replaced by autumn’s silences.
After waiting nearly all weekend, Bastian finally made an appearance. He apologized repeatedly over the phone and through messages, asking to see her as soon as possible, even offering her a ticket for the upcoming weekend.

WChat
Bastian: I’m really sorry. I swear work completely drained me.
Valentina: Don’t worry. I know what it’s like to be under pressure.

And just like that, the doubts faded, and what was once an uncertain landscape became a space of mutual understanding.
As she exchanged messages with the one who made her feel like she was on a roller coaster, she called Lucas midweek to finalize the details of their trip to Mönegliä.
Just before ending the call, she mentioned she still didn’t feel completely comfortable around Andrea. She had already arranged with Bastian to stay at a hotel, allowing Lucas to have enough space in the villa.
She knew the promise her best friend had made to his “partner,” and because of all the lingering feelings and echoes still pulsing through her body, she wanted to be far away from all of it.
Her relationship with Lucas had always been direct, open, and honest, so she knew he wouldn’t take her decision the wrong way. She had every right, though she also knew Lucas wouldn't exactly like the idea. But she couldn’t just say:

"Your boyfriend, in one of his stupid moments, made me end up with stitches in the back of my head. And thanks to him, the days that followed were pretty much hell."

The cuts on her head, the medical bills, the stares, the judgment, the guilt, and her silence—out of fear of breaking his heart—had all been shoved into a corner inside her, tucked away in an attempt to move on. After all, she had already shared her point of view. But the only one who could take control of his life—and face the consequences—was him. She was just a companion, an eternal observer.
By Thursday night, nerves had settled in, so she decided to wake up two hours earlier the next day to get everything ready for the weekend. For a moment, she questioned whether it was normal for someone her age to still get nervous like this. But then she told herself:

"What even is normal at my age?"

She closed the suitcase she had packed earlier, making sure to include lingerie and one of her best perfumes.
When she left home, she followed the same routine as the previous week—but this time, many in the office stared at her.

—“So, you’re making the most of this weekend too?” Karl said playfully.

Valentina blushed, her cheeks turning a soft pink as her eyes darted to the floor. She took it as a casual comment, but she wasn’t used to joking like that with her boss. It felt like camaraderie—a kind she had never experienced before.
After saying goodbye to everyone, she headed to the train station. The train was visibly crowded; most people were heading home. She didn’t like holding on to the overhead handrails because they always left her arms sore—she had the bad habit of gripping too tightly.

But this time, she had no choice. What was curious was that the handrails were shaped like pheromone suppressor. No one used that kind of advertising anymore—it wasn’t eye-catching, nor did it influence purchases. When you were on a train, you’d much rather stare out the window than focus on manufactured needs.

WChat
Andrea: I miss you so much. I’ll pick you up at the station.
Lucas: I’ll call you when I leave. Finishing up. Kiss.

Lucas felt uneasy. He liked Andrea, but he wasn’t sure if he was wrong about him. Maybe it was normal for omegas to be more intense, coming from different castes. But at the same time, Andrea had stopped being a kid long ago.
Yes, a lot had happened. But he still felt curious about Andrea. The promise he had mentioned to Valentina—as if it were merely a duty—no longer felt like one with each passing day.

Spending the heat cycle together would bring them closer. As two adults in their thirties, maybe then they could finally talk about the dust floating in the air.
All the negative thoughts from the previous weekend quickly vanished. He had to pack. It was Thursday night, and he realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent a heat cycle with an omega.
It had probably been years. Omegas were demanding in bed. Not that he fell behind. It wasn’t about stamina—it was the whispers that a beta could never satisfy them. And because of that, he just wanted to prove them wrong.
He couldn’t mark, couldn’t use pheromones to arouse his partner, and definitely couldn’t knot—but he had his own methods, ones only he knew how to use.

Friday morning came. Just before leaving for work, he remembered a package he hadn’t opened. Toys he’d bought for the occasion. They were necessary. There would be pauses—for eating, sleeping, or simply catching their breath. But they’d be together for four days, within four walls, breathing the same air that, eventually, would stop feeling new.
He took the train this time. The glances were there but felt more subtle. The day passed normally, time flew, the clients left, and when he looked up at the sky, he noticed it was getting dark earlier and earlier. Smiles were no longer as abundant in the streets…

At the station, he stood in the middle to check the schedules—then something caught his attention. A scent, enveloping and unforgettable, the kind that makes you turn your head, no matter who’s wearing it.
He didn’t turn, but he felt a tingle down his spine—a shiver. Then a voice whispered sweetly in his ear:

—“Hello, darling. ¿Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are? ¿Do you take cash or card…?”

They had agreed to meet at 6 p.m. at the central station. It had been years since they’d traveled by train together. Not because they didn’t like it, but because...

—“Stupid bitch,” Lucas said, holding back laughter.

The trip wouldn’t be long, but it wouldn’t be entirely pleasant either. The reason they had stopped traveling by train was that it always ended in some less-than-happy story.

—“What happened? Did you get your hopes up?” Valentina said sarcastically.

By 6:30 p.m., it was time to board. They sat facing each other. As the train filled up, Valentina contacted Lorenzo to share Lucas’s information as her companion.

—“So when we return, we’ll meet with him to go over the final details, right?” Lucas asked, frowning.

—“yup,” Valentina answered sweetly.

There was a rule that every train had to stop when crossing the border, though it wasn’t always enforced. Unfortunately for them, this time it was.
It was a routine check. Border officers boarded with drug-sniffing dogs. They were in second class. The train didn’t restrict them, but being in a different class still made their stomachs churn.

—“Good evening, documents please,” the officer said politely.

The dog sniffed Lucas’s suitcase persistently. It was routine, but the feeling of being watched by everyone was deeply uncomfortable.
One look from someone uneasy could shift quickly—especially when your caste was clearly marked on your ID.
The dogs wouldn’t stop. They asked Lucas to stand and undergo a full-body inspection, then to open his luggage completely.

—“We’ll open the suitcase. Please cooperate,” the officer said firmly.

The shame of being searched head to toe, as if he were a criminal, a trafficker… the rage, the helplessness of saying nothing.
The issue wasn’t the inspection itself, but the contempt in how they handled his things, like they were cursed, like trash.

—“¿Lucas, care to explain where those toys came from? And why does your bag reek of supplements? ¿Are you cheating on me?” Valentina asked sternly.

The officer’s eyes widened. He shifted from staring at Lucas to suddenly looking out the window. Something in the air, in his movements, screamed that he wanted to get out of there fast.

—“Aham, signore, excuse me. There’s nothing wrong with the bag. Thank you very much for your cooperation,” he said, eyes glued to his phone.

Just as he was about to leave the train, a female voice rang out:

—“Darling, calm down! It’s not what it looks like. Please, let’s not make a scene here.”

—“A SCENE!? EIGHT YEARS TOGETHER AND YOU DO THIS TO ME?!” Valentina cried, covering her face.

The tension was thick. The train car felt heavier. People stopped looking at them and turned to their phones or stared out the window.
Valentina fell silent and gave Lucas the cold shoulder for the rest of the trip. They were partners in crime—and above all, she would never let anyone humiliate her best friend. Even if it meant getting a little dirty.
She knew what that humiliation felt like. Once you tasted that acid, you stopped caring about going through it again.

Upon arriving in Genövä, they noticed the weather was still quite warm. There were more smiles around, but silence still reigned.
They took the next train to Mönegliä and finally arrived at midnight. Valentina reminded Lucas of what they’d discussed on the phone—he would get off first to leave her alone with Bastian.

Five minutes later, Valentina stepped off. Andrea and Lucas were still there. Lucas looked her in the eyes—calm, relaxed, yet as if she were his emergency lifeline.
Andrea moved ahead of Bastian and offered her a hand to help her down the train stairs. Lucas and Bastian locked eyes and smiled—saying nothing.
She wasn’t a hypocrite. She hated lies. But this wasn’t the time to pull away from someone who now seemed, perhaps, to be wearing a mask.

—“Valentina, I want to sincerely apologize to you,” Andrea said softly, looking at his hands.

—“I think it would be best if we talked about this privately,” Valentina replied, cordial but firm.

They agreed to talk before returning. She knew she shouldn’t have said what she did, but sometimes, in trying to protect what mattered most, her mouth trapped her in a maze with no exit.

Chapter Text

After the evolution of the new human species in 1800, the country was forced to adapt to a new reality. To maintain order and ensure that the most disadvantaged sectors always received state support, two fundamental institutions were created: the Ministry of Biology and Reproduction, founded in 1845, and the Ministry of Castes, established in 1855.

Ministry of Biology and Reproduction

This ministry, one of the government's main arms, operates under the direct supervision of the Prime Minister. Its core responsibilities include providing information, promoting awareness and reproductive education, ensuring access to healthcare services, and overseeing the quality of such services for both citizens and visitors.

Main Functions

— Drafting laws and regulatory proposals in the field of public health.

— Designing maternity plans and care programs for children of alpha and omega couples.

— Supervising the prevention and treatment of gestational diseases, unplanned births, and the collection of organs for transplants.

— Providing special protection to omegas in heat without an available partner or in cases of hormonal synchronization among cohabiting omegas, through temporary shelters, hormonal treatment, and emotional support.

— Assisting alphas in active rut without a registered partner, offering inhibitors and preventive medical care.

Distributing and monitoring regulatory supplies:

    - Rut neutralizers for betas.

    - Pheromone suppressants for alphas and omegas, strictly under prescription and state supervision.

    - While these products are officially distributed, a regulated commercial version is also available.

— Registering and monitoring infertile betas or those lacking a natural scent, classifying them based on biological compatibility and assigning them to health or intervention programs.

Institutional Objective:
To guide behavior and promote the biological understanding of all castes, as well as their appropriate social and functional integration within the established order.

Official Motto:
“We stand for the acceptance and protection of all equally. Our duty is to guarantee non-discrimination based on gender and to protect individuals against any form of discrimination based on their genetic information in accessing healthcare.”

Ministry of Castes

With the establishment of the new caste system and the need to protect the population while maintaining hierarchical balance, the creation of an institution responsible for registering, organizing, and regulating the relationships between alphas, betas, and omegas became imperative. Thus, the Ministry of Castes was born— the national body responsible for the legal, social, and civic regulation of inter-caste relations.

From its inception to the present day, this ministry— in coordination with Parliament and the Ministry of Biology and Reproduction— works toward a structured, balanced, and just coexistence, based on the biological differences of each group and their role in society.

Main Functions

— Official registration of every citizen according to their biological caste from birth.

— Supervision, alongside the Ministry of Biology, of alpha–omega bonding, ensuring safety, traceability, and legality of such links.

— Issuance of caste identity certificates, required to access education, employment, healthcare, and legal partnerships.

— Oversight of caste-based markings for proper identification.

— Classification and record updates in cases of mutations, recessiveness, infertility, or incompatibilities.

— Regulation and supervision of inter-caste relationships: marriage, bonding, child custody, bond dissolution, or divorce.

— Approval or restriction of inter-caste adoptions.

— Recommendations for residential and workplace environments based on biological category.

— Coordination of educational campaigns on the social role of each caste.

— Oversight of the prison system, with protocols differentiated by caste.

— Special control of infertile betas or those without a natural scent, including evaluation, functional reclassification, and access to treatment.

— Enforcement of hormonal dissipation protocols, in cooperation with the Ministries of Biology and Labor.

— Supervision or restriction of same-caste pairings (alpha–alpha, omega–omega, or beta–beta of the same sex), deemed non-complementary or suboptimal for reproductive efficiency, in accordance with demographic balance protocols and social structure regulations.

— Monitoring of inter-caste bonds, particularly those involving alphas or omegas with betas, which, while legally permissible, are discouraged for being biologically unbalanced or hierarchically unproductive.

— Oversight of agreements with private pharmaceutical companies for the supply of hormone inhibitors and regulators.

Groups Assisted or Regulated

— Recessive or infertile omegas and alphas, with access to subsidies, medical care, and voluntary isolation in cases of hormonal instability.

— Children born from inter-caste bonds whose caste cannot be immediately defined, evaluated by the Genetic Assignment Committee.

— Betas with atypical genetic profiles, subject to medical monitoring and special registry.

System Benefits

— Guarantees genetic traceability of the population, facilitating diagnosis, disease prevention, and infertility detection.

— Prevents unauthorized or conflicting bonds between incompatible castes.

— Standardizes access to public services based on biological capabilities.

— Preserves the national system’s hierarchical and reproductive balance.

— Provides a legal framework to convert biological differences into protected and socially useful norms.

Institutional Motto:
“Different by nature, equal in society. Caste order for a proper humanity.”

Internal Warning – Leaked Confidential Document

File 4711-B / Restricted Classification / Date: Unknown

This manual was created by institutions linked to power with the intent of maintaining supremacy under the guise of objective science.
No caste is free from harm, but the structure is designed to uphold privilege through biology, fear, and pharmaceutical control.
Any critical reading should understand this text not as truth, but as evidence of the system it attempts to describe.
Reading it is an act of resistance.

Chapter Text

"I kill for love, I kill without any reason. I feed on laughter, on sobriety, but even more on nothingness—because it is within that nothingness that normality exists. Where there should be one, there are only three."

Chapter Text

🎵 Salvatore

It was nighttime. She found herself in a foreign city, staring at an ocean she couldn't touch. Everything about it felt like an escape from reality.

"I'm tired… thank you for bringing me to see the sea beforehand," Valentina said wistfully.

"A pleasure, amore, an absolute pleasure," Bastian replied, kissing her hand.

The color of his eyes, his presence, his essence… everything about him was something she'd missed for days. But more than that, his warmth. His hands, his features, and his voice—so sweet, yet so husky.

Valentina moved closer to embrace him, and also to claim her space, gently brushing Bastian's Adam's apple with her right hand. She looked into his eyes.
How could someone look that good, even under the shadow of night?

"Valentina… I can't stay at the hotel tonight. I need to send in a report. But starting tomorrow, at noon, I'll be all yours."

She felt a pang of disappointment. She quickly pulled her hand away and looked at him firmly. She had wanted to be in his arms from the moment she set foot in that city… but it still wasn't time.

"I understand… I'll see you at noon then," she said, averting her gaze.

Bastian noticed something in her tense, but said nothing. He really couldn't stay, so he tried to organize everything as best he could for the hours ahead.

"Lucas and Andrea…" she said, locking eyes again.

"I know. But my apartment is on the opposite end from theirs," he answered, leading her toward the car.

When Valentina arrived at the hotel, she noticed Bastian knew the owners. It was a small city; everyone knew everyone. Still, it surprised her. She came from a country where, even if it was small, people lived far apart or, at least, weren't as close.

Before the hotel doors closed, Bastian called out. She had stepped out of the car without looking back. He hugged her from behind, kissed her ear, and whispered:

"You look stunning."

And just like that, the old hotel's doors closed behind her.

The first thing she did upon entering the room was collapse onto the bed. She was exhausted. She didn't like spending so many hours on a train, but more than anything, what drained her was the frustration.

She had a breathtaking view of the ocean from her window, but didn't feel like looking. She chose the ceiling instead. She reached out, imagining Bastian's hand over hers, his body on top, kissing her gently on the neck.

She brushed her fingers along her own neck, as if they were his. Though she couldn't feel his skin's roughness, her mind recreated the scene with vivid precision.

As she continued caressing her neck with both hands, she moved slowly to her ears, grazing the lobes with her fingertips, then trailing down her cheeks to her lips. She touched and licked them, pretending they were his kisses.

She closed her eyes. A vibration broke the moment. She was startled at first, but then realized the phone was under her body. It was a message.

She quickly unlocked the screen, hoping it was Bastian saying he had come back for her. But to no real surprise, it was Lucas.

Wchat:

—Are you okay? I just saw Bastian arrive, Lucas wrote.
—Yeah, he has to send a report, but we'll see each other tomorrow. You? Everything good? —Valentina replied.

Her best friend didn't write back. She figured Andrea must be with him. She didn't insist. She put the phone aside. The erotic, unfamiliar sensation that had enveloped her faded, giving way to sleep.

Morning came.
The room felt warm, and dawn shone on her face. Her brown eyes, for a moment, seemed to turn hazel. She checked the time on her phone—it was 11 a.m.

She jumped out of bed in a panic. She had fallen asleep in the same clothes she'd arrived in, and her body ached from the awkward position. Bastian would arrive in an hour. And if there was one thing she admired about him, it was his punctuality.

She headed straight for the shower. The cold water gave her goosebumps; her arm hairs stood on end, but it was the only way to wake up. She exfoliated, and once she stepped out, she felt the salty ocean breeze. The scent was thick… briny.

She hurried: applied her best lotion, her favorite perfume. Left her hair down—the one thing she truly liked about herself—and put on sunscreen. She didn't usually wear makeup, not because she disliked it, but because she never learned how—or never gave herself the chance. But she had promised herself she'd start practicing.

As she put on her steel earrings, someone knocked on the door. That was odd. She hadn't ordered anything. Her first thought was that maybe Bastian had sent something up.

She opened the door without asking.

He was there, framed in the doorway, holding a bouquet of white roses tilted to the side.

"You really shouldn't open the door for strangers, darling…" he said with a playful smile.

"Are those for me?" she asked, her smile even wider.

It was Bastian. He'd come up unannounced, eager to see her as soon as possible. He'd used his connection with the owners to avoid calling her from reception.

He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. With each step he took, she stepped back. He placed the bouquet on the nightstand, and confidently cupped Valentina's face with both hands.

He stuck out his tongue to gently lick her lips. Then, he placed one hand on her neck, the other on her waist. A soft sound escaped as their mouths met. He opened his slowly, inviting her tongue to explore his.

The kisses, their bodies pressed together, their shared breaths…
Valentina melted into Bastian with her arms around his neck, as he lifted her in one smooth motion.

She felt like she was floating. She sensed dampness on her neck, like the night before. Then something firm pressed against her belly. Bastian sat at the edge of the bed, her straddling him.

He didn't stop kissing her, licking every inch of her neck, biting her ears.
She leaned in closer; both touched each other with desperation, her body tingling all over.
Desire surged—so much that she dug her nails into his shoulders.

Valentina moaned softly. She felt shivers, pleasure, want. But suddenly, she stopped him.

Her face flushed. Her passion-clouded eyes locked with his. Her hands clutched his arms tightly. Bastian breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling.

She noticed a scent…

"Your perfume?... Caramel?" she asked, hands on his chest.

She thought it would be best if what they had happened a little later. She wasn't thinking clearly. She knew what it was. She had imagined it. But her body… her sensations clouded all judgment.

Bastian was faster. He crashed his mouth into hers again, full of desperate longing. He hugged her with contained fury. He whispered her name into her ear.

"I want you so much…" he said, with a sorrow that pierced her skin.

And so began a weekend where the body spoke before reason.

Elsewhere in the city, in a family villa, a couple of men were joyfully cooking together: an omega and a beta who couldn't bear to be apart.

"I missed making breakfast together," Andrea said with a big smile while brewing coffee.

His smile, his hands, his skin when he smiled, how he blushed… Lucas loved all of it. Any doubts or fleeting thoughts vanished whenever he was near Andrea.

Lucas felt at peace with him, cherished—as if they shared something more than just skin: something real. And he longed to know him even more.

Andrea had a small apartment inside the family villa, so they didn't need to mingle with the rest. But despite it only being a month—or a bit more—since they'd met, Andrea proposed something.

"You want me to meet your parents?" Lucas asked, surprised.

"Haha, yes. Why not? We all live together in the villa. Even my grandparents," Andrea replied, leaning against Lucas.

That wasn't something Lucas was used to. Meeting the parents was the last thing he expected that weekend. In fact, it had only been a few hours since he'd arrived in the country, and Andrea's heat still hadn't kicked in.

Heat could be unpredictable. While omegas could estimate their cycles, it wasn't exact.

Lucas had planned to stay the whole week since Andrea's heat would last around four days. He had everything set: arrive Saturday, end around Tuesday or Wednesday, and stay a few more days to pamper him.

Night fell, and Lucas wandered the villa. He hadn't heard from Valentina, so he checked his phone and realized he hadn't replied to her last message.

Wchat
—All good? Where are you? ARE YOU GUYS DOING IT ALREADY?? LOL
—VALENTINAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
—Reply at least after drinking water…

Lucas figured that if his best friend wasn't replying—which was unusual—it was probably because she had something between her legs that wouldn't let her move.

He burst out laughing like a lunatic in the garden, but stopped when he heard voices.

"What's so funny?" —"Ah! Ah!" Andrea exclaimed, tickling him.

"It's just that Valentina's not answering. She's probably sucking your cousin's soul out," Lucas said, laughing.

Andrea didn't reply. He just winked. He knew Valentina and Bastian would be busy, and part of him was happy about it.

He planned to talk to Valentina at some point, whether she liked it or not. He needed to. She was part of the life of someone he cared about, and she was dating someone from his family. She'd be around for a long time.

Andrea quickly changed the subject and told Lucas his family wanted to have dinner with them.

He led him by the hand to the main house to reintroduce him to everyone.

"Remember Lucas? As you know, we're dating. He's a beta, so please be nice," Andrea said aloud.

Everyone smiled. No one questioned anything, and they invited him to the table. They served him everything. They even switched languages for him. Some dishes Lucas didn't even recognize, but he took the opportunity to observe Andrea more—what he liked, what he didn't.

Hours passed. The wine bottles multiplied, so did the laughter… and, like in every family, small arguments arose.

Andrea, bold as ever, jumped into a family debate. There was always something to complain about. But through it all, he never stopped looking at Lucas. They held hands the entire time, and even toasted as a couple in front of everyone.

Lucas felt incredibly welcomed. The peace, the familiarity, the jokes… it all reminded him of his own family: his moms, his sister, Sundays full of anecdotes and dishes.

At 2 a.m., the table was empty. Everything had been cleaned, and every member of Andrea's family had gone to bed.

Something caught Lucas's attention: no one had asked about Bastian. He had met Bastian's parents—a warm omega couple, man and woman. They looked like him.

He wanted to ask Andrea, but figured everyone probably already knew where Bastian was. They were an open, affectionate family. He'd noticed that the first time, and now it was confirmed. He let the thought go.

Time kept flowing, but Andrea's heat still hadn't come. Both were tired. Lucas wanted to go further, wanted to say it, but stopped. He knew the heat might come in the middle of the night, and if that happened, he'd need his strength. Best to rest.

"Lucas… my heat isn't here yet. Probably tomorrow," Andrea said, yawning.

"Don't worry. If it doesn't come… I'll make it come for you," Lucas said, biting his ear.

Deep down, Lucas wanted to be inside Andrea.
He had come with a purpose: to fix what was breaking.
But in that moment, he wasn't thinking with his heart. He was thinking with his body.

Chapter Text

"Bastian, wait... something smells so sweet... is that you?" Valentina asked, looking at him with uncertainty.

He didn’t answer. His kisses deepened, then moved to her neck where he pressed his lips to mark her. He knew he had the control. He knew he could do anything he wanted. He desired her, and for that reason, he told himself she must have desired him even more—as if that gave him the right to everything.

The kisses continued, and although she had hesitated at first, she now simply let herself go, because... she told herself this was why she came.

The phone buzzed. Once, twice, three times. But she didn’t have the strength to reach it. She knew who it was, but it no longer mattered; she was already inside the storm.

"Ahhhh, Valentina, you smell so good... is that you? Betas smell fucking amazing when they're aroused," Bastian murmured as he buried his nose in the curve of her ear.

He started planting kisses, descending until he reached her hands. He licked every finger, one by one, slowly, deliberately. She could feel the heat of his breath, the goosebumps rising along her arms. She turned her head to the side to catch a glimpse of the sea. Her window offered a stunning view, the kind that felt like the backdrop to a Greco-Roman tragedy.

She turned back to look at him. It was him—the man kneeling before her, kissing her stomach like a worshiper before a goddess. She didn't understand it, but it felt holy and cursed all at once.

She cupped his face. She wanted to see him closer. She wanted those eyes in front of her. She wanted to climb on top of him and take control.

She would give him everything he wanted. After all, she told herself that was why she wore her best perfume, her finest lingerie, and traveled with barely anything just to be with the one who made her feel consecrated.

His hands found the zipper of her dress. He ripped it before she could react. Not with rage, but with certainty. He pushed her face-down onto the bed. But then, as if some part of him realized it wasn’t right, he stopped... and gently turned her over.

The room filled with the scent of caramel. She saw it in his eyes: guilt, lust, pity. Like a serpent ready to consume its prey. From her navel to her thighs, he licked her, tasted her, devoured her until his mouth found her center.

"You taste so fucking good... jasmine... yes, my Valentina," Bastian said, his voice buried between her thighs, his eyes locked with hers.

He licked her hips, bit her softly to mark her. And just when Valentina started to feel safe, started to let go, he left her completely bare.

Their eyes met. They weren’t children. She knew what was happening. Her body pulsed with need. She felt the wetness between her legs, his hands mapping her skin inch by inch until they reached her breasts. She trusted him, so she opened for him.

But Bastian couldn’t wait. He caught her wrists, pinned them above her head, and kissed her hard, possessively.

"Bastian, wait... not like this," Valentina breathed.

"Shut up. You don’t know what it means to be with an omega," he growled, still kissing her.

And then, with the trust she had offered him, he entered her—without asking, without protection, without pause. Hard. She froze, staring up at the ceiling as he moved inside her.

His cock pushed deeper with each thrust. She had thought she was ready, but it burned. Like wearing something too tight, something that suffocated her.

But as he kept going, her body loosened. The tightness gave way to heat. To rhythm. To something that almost felt like pleasure. Her breath quickened.

She could feel her body giving in, warming up, betraying her. But her mind whispered: This isn't right. She knew sex. She knew desire. But this? This was something else. Still, the pleasure clouded her thoughts, and she told herself: maybe it’s not so bad to be the one who submits after a lifetime of being in control.

Her body didn’t resist. Not because she wanted it, but because she didn’t know how to say no. And his body moved over hers like it owned her, claiming her with every brutal thrust.

Bastian moaned, eyes wild, fixated on her. And then she saw it—his eyes shifting from forest green to ocean blue, dark and overwhelming.

She didn’t know if it was the hour, the pheromones, or just her own scent clouding her mind. As a beta, she knew little about ruts. But she had never seen an omega look so beautiful, so terrifying.

"My rut's here... I came to take you, body and soul... amore mio," Bastian panted.

He grabbed her hand, kissed her palm, then laid over her again, pressing his body to hers, marking her all over again.

Maybe it was the rut making him hypersensitive. But he felt every drop of her scent, every ounce of jasmine. Her eyes stared into his, and he drowned.

For a fleeting second, he wanted to choke her—not out of hate, but hunger. Possession.

They paused. Then started again. And again. She lost count. He took her until her mind drifted, until nothing felt real.

She had been with omegas before, but never in rut. Never like this. Her body buzzed with adrenaline, but her heart felt like it might break.

No one ever knocked. But she felt watched. Maybe it was madness. Maybe it was the days slipping by.

She never came. Not once. But her body kept begging to be touched again. To be taken. By him.

She wanted to feel loved. Wanted. Safe. But also wanted to be special. This was new. Strange. And something inside her begged for more.

"Again?" Bastian asked, pressing her to the wall.

"How long has it been?" she asked, panic seeping in.

It didn’t matter. It was done. She didn’t think about work. Or maybe she did. But if she said no now, he’d be angry. They’d come so far and never reached the finish.

She dropped to her knees. Looked up at him from a place of surrender. Like a sinner before a god. She opened her mouth, took him in, felt his heat flood her mouth.

He groaned. Braced himself on the wall. She moved her tongue softly, didn’t bite, just sucked gently. She could feel him tremble.

He was wet, from his back end, already leaking. Omega heat. Every beat of his pulse came from that place.

His frame was delicate. She ran her hands slowly from his hips to his chest, claiming him. Begging him to let her.

She pulled him from her mouth, held his hips, licked him, kissed him, even bit his stomach.

She didn’t hate herself. But she had never loved herself either. Maybe it was her sadness that drew him in. And that’s why he would use her.

She stood slowly. Let him wrap his arms around her. Before she could say anything, he whispered:

"Don’t look at me like that... You’re not lost. You’re mine."

She didn’t look away. She didn’t know why, but she needed to see his eyes. He thought she was challenging him. But she just wanted to understand.

The thought returned: This isn’t right. But when her breath caught again, that voice was drowned out. Maybe this was just what being thirty feels like.

They kissed. He lifted her. Entered her again. Easily. Hungrily.

She couldn’t stop moaning. He was addicted to her need. He knew this would end tomorrow. The sea’s scent grew thicker each night.

Her mind spun—not from pleasure, but from the damp air, the time lost, the scent. Was this really what it felt like to go through rut with an omega? Was she enough? Did he want an alpha?

Still no orgasm. Just tension. Wetness. Marks. Eyes. Skin. But no release. Someone once told her that climax wasn’t the best part. That it was about connection. Companionship.

So she stopped thinking. Let him wrap her up again. She wanted to give. To prove she could make him feel good. But Bastian just kept conquering her body, over and over.

"Let me try something..." she whispered.

"Shhh... just surrender."

She obeyed. Hesitantly. For a moment, her body and mind screamed no. But as if he sensed it, he leaned in and groaned in her ear.

Different positions. Everywhere. On top, beneath. Shower. Floor. Table. Against the window. Always ending the same—on the bed, on all fours.

He loved that. Loved spanking her, scratching her, choking her, pulling her close to whisper filthy things. He knew her.

He ran his hands along her spine. Reached her softest place. Held her tight. Heard her whimper. Felt her pulse against his thrusts.

The closer they got, the hotter they burned. The stillness made it even more electric.

He saw her grip the sheets. Heard her cries. Felt the bruises bloom on her shoulders. And he loved it.

His body grew tired. Sated. And he knew she felt the same.

They ate. They rested. But she never spoke again like she did at the start. She just accepted. Every touch. Every thrust. No protest. Just the silence of two bodies who had finally met.

"Bastian, I need to rest. I didn’t bring supplements. I can’t anymore," she whispered.

"We’re almost done, sweetheart," he smiled.

She rolled to her side, and even that made her spine and hips throb.

She felt her lips, her swollen clit. She wasn’t prepared. Didn’t know if it was day 3 or 5. But many nights had passed. The moon had watched each one.

And when climax came again, just like the first day he brought flowers, the sun fell on her—not on her eyes, but on her bruised hips.

That sight made him hard again. Tired, yes, but not done.

He lay beside her. She thought he’d hold her. Tell her it was over. But his hand found her again.

She couldn’t really respond anymore. Or maybe she could. One more time wouldn’t change anything.

One more time. Maybe many. She lost count. Like days lost in fog. And even when it ended, satisfaction never came.

When he was finally done, that’s when she remembered to ask:

They didn’t use protection.

She had brought condoms. Tried to check the floor. Saw nothing.

He noticed. Laughed softly.

"Don’t worry. There’s always Plan B."

She felt stupid. Like a naive girl. And she agreed. There’s always a solution. That’s what he said.

The sun disappeared once again. And the intercast pair wrapped themselves in each other, despite all the sensations, spoken and unspoken.

The rut was gone. Night had come.

And with it, the fruit of the love she offered him—and of all those times she knew she should have said no, but didn’t—would one day reveal itself.

Chapter Text

Just as the nights smelled of damp stone and wood, the mornings felt like coffee and freshly baked bread—where the everyday intertwined with the ancient.

She had no idea what day it was, but her body was begging for mercy. The moment she opened her eyes, she felt something warm beside her: it was her, wrapped in his arms. When she tried to make the slightest movement to escape, her body sent signals that even breathing would be a mistake.

Every inch of her ached—her hair, her jaw, her fingers, her back, but more than anything, her center. She didn’t know what to feel; it was a strange sensation she wasn’t used to—not after receiving that much affection from someone.

The right word wasn’t “empty,” but rather “dry.” The scent of caramel had faded, along with her own. The white ceiling was still there, imposing without being noticed.

She forced herself to get out of bed; she needed to know the time and the day, though she could tell it was closer to night than morning by the strength of the sun.

—Where are you going? Sleep with me a little longer —Bastian said with a raspy voice.

—I need to go to the bathroom —Valentina replied, dragging herself across the bed.

She searched everywhere for her phone but couldn’t find it. The room was a complete mess: clothes scattered all over, sheets tangled, dishes piled up, and the window wide open.

She couldn’t bend down properly, and when she spotted her phone, it was lying on top of some plates. Just bending to pick it up gave her a painful cramp that made her groan in agony.

Bastian stirred in surprise, but when he saw her rubbing her legs, he laughed and called her dramatic. He said she shouldn’t complain, that he’d shown mercy because it was their first time together, and that she should be thankful—next time would be worse.

Those words didn’t particularly bother her. She knew he was right. As a beta, she didn’t truly understand what it meant to go through rut with a dominant omega—especially without preparation. For a moment she hesitated, but then brushed it off and told herself she’d do her best.

Once in the bathroom, she peed with a painful sting. The act, over so many days, had taken a toll on a body that wasn’t used to it—let alone ready for it.

When she unlocked her phone, it hit her: Wednesday, 1 p.m., dozens of messages from her bosses, a flood of unread emails, and countless missed calls—including from her parents, asking for her location and if she was safe.

She had no idea what excuse to give her bosses. She hadn’t planned on accompanying Bastian during rut. It just happened. She was sure she’d be fired. Panic rushed over her; she wanted to cry. It was her first time in a major position, and now she was going to lose it.

Tears began to fall. Her body trembled, and anxious thoughts flooded her mind. Bastian, hearing her crying, burst into the bathroom. When he saw her, he froze. He asked what was wrong, and once she explained, he let out a heavy sigh—and then called her dramatic.

He told her he was disappointed, that he expected more rationality from a beta, that she shouldn’t get so worked up over something so small. All she had to do was say she was with him, and it would be fine.

She argued that things weren’t that easy for a beta, that people wouldn’t be understanding. But Bastian insisted—and even threatened to call them himself if she didn’t.

Her nerves worsened, and out of fear he might actually do it, she called with him listening on speaker. She dialed Karl.

—Valentina, for God’s sake, are you okay? We haven’t heard from you —Karl said, clearly distressed.

—Karl, I’m sorry. I know I’ll probably be fired after this, but… my partner went into rut and— —she looked at Bastian, who was holding the phone.

—Oh, your partner’s an alpha? —Karl asked, surprised.

—No, an omega.

—Sweetheart, you should’ve said so sooner. Don’t worry. Take the week off —Karl said, laughing.

And just like that, what Valentina thought would be the end of her new job became… normal again.

As soon as she hung up, Bastian repeated that he had been right—that life was easier when you told the truth, and especially when you were with an omega or alpha. From now on, he’d only bring good luck into her life.

Valentina said nothing. She tried to explain her reaction, but Bastian cut her off. He didn’t want to spoil what they had just shared—their first rut together.

They left the room, but not before asking for it to be cleaned, briefly explaining the situation. The hotel staff smiled warmly, telling them not to worry—it was routine. So the two of them took the chance to go grab lunch.

—I need to stop by a pharmacy —Valentina said, staring at her feet in the car.

—Still hurting? Wait… I never asked—have you ever experienced a rut before?

—No, but… you came inside me —she said, looking at him.

—Don’t worry, I told you—we’ll take care of it —Bastian replied, laughing.

Honestly, the days back home seemed to turn dark much faster, but here they lingered just a little longer—even if only by minutes. And so they made the most of it.

They walked through the town like any other couple, like two lovers whose closeness made it seem as though nothing and no one could pull them apart. To the eyes of strangers and locals alike, they were just an ordinary couple of common caste.

—Oh, Andrea, I didn’t know you had a boyfriend —said a passerby.

Lucas had heard that phrase so many times it echoed in his head. No matter where they walked, someone always stopped to say it.

He wasn’t the jealous type, but he wasn’t used to all the attention his partner received either—nor the stares he got in return.

Andrea’s rut still hadn’t arrived. It was Sunday afternoon, and he hadn’t heard from Valentina either. But he figured she’d spent a long time alone and was probably still immersed in her own passionate story, wrapped in caresses.

It gave Lucas peace knowing that both he and his best friend had found people who made them feel special. Even more, he liked the idea that their stories were connected—as if telling one inevitably revealed the other.

They decided to have lunch out. Since Andrea’s body was still calm, they took advantage of the nice weather to keep exploring. Even though the city was small and everyone seemed to know one another, there was always some curious detail, an unexpected line, or an eccentric stranger to surprise them.

—You okay? —Andrea asked as he signaled the waiter.

—Yeah, just… everyone knows you, huh?

—Hahaha, jealous already? Go wash your hands. I’ll order —Andrea said, touching Lucas’s cheek.

Lucas didn’t dwell on it. He went quickly to the bathroom, leaving Andrea in charge. When he returned, appetizers were already on the table—along with the wine.

They thoroughly enjoyed the meal. They finished the whole bottle of wine and were so affectionate that they decided to head back to the apartment right away.

Once they got back, Lucas paused. He wasn’t completely sober, but he still had some sense left. He knew he needed to conserve his energy.

But Andrea insisted, saying that maybe, after so much wine and a bit of stimulation, his rut might finally kick in. Lucas hesitated again—but Andrea’s kisses on his chest made resistance impossible.

He gave in to the moment. This time, he let Andrea take the lead, to do whatever he wanted with him.

Andrea undressed him slowly, kissed his neck, licked his ears, and began whispering sweet things into his ear:

—Maybe if I’m a good boy and give you all of me, my rut will finally honor us with its presence. So get more excited for me, and let me smell you —Andrea whispered.

Lucas wanted the rut to come already. He wanted to prove to Andrea that he was the one. But more than that, he wanted to heal the invisible wounds that still lingered, to start fresh.

He was even willing to let Andrea take full control that night—or even all week—if that meant they could be something more than just lovers.

As Andrea’s kisses grew more intense, and his bites sharper, Lucas felt his cock throbbing. But it wasn’t just that—there was a tension in his hands, his chest pounding like the surrounding air had grown denser, sweeter… or maybe it was just the wine.

He begged Andrea. Asked him to skip the teasing. But Andrea refused. Lucas was growing more anxious, more desperate, and finally stopped him. They were in bed—Lucas underneath. Overwhelmed, he flipped their positions and took control.

—If you want to start this, then start it now… or I won’t hold back —Lucas said, breathing hard.

Andrea couldn’t understand why Lucas was so worked up. But then he looked into his eyes, gave him a tender kiss, and told him he still wanted Lucas to take the lead.

They began. No more foreplay. Lucas couldn’t stop moaning with need, and Andrea’s cries grew louder with each thrust. The waves of pleasure—mutual orgasm—came fast.

They didn’t stop after the first time, thinking that maybe the more they touched, the sooner the rut would come. But it never did—no matter how many minutes, hours, or sunsets passed.

None of that mattered anymore. They kept going, and under no circumstance did they consider stopping. Though, somewhere between moans and gasps, one of them may have mentioned… possibly taking a break.

Chapter Text

Thursday arrived, and nothing changed. The town continued its routine as usual, whether there were more or fewer tourists. Just like time never stops, and despite the circumstances, everything went on as if nothing had happened.
Andrea's Rut never came. No matter how excited they might have been, how many orgasms they shared, or how many times they did it, it never showed up.

Lucas grew worried. He didn’t understand what could have happened, and even more so, he noticed it in Andrea: in every pause or every time they started again, he could see the tension and desperation in his eyes and body.

He, being a beta, was the result of an inter-caste relationship. Not only that, but he had a “recessive” omega sister, so he knew what could happen when an alpha or omega didn’t release their urges.

It was then that Lucas thought about using the toys he had brought with him, but something in his mind stopped him. Something told him that, no matter how much they tried, even if they kept doing it for days, nothing would change.

"My Rut should’ve come days ago. The week is almost over, and you’ll be leaving," said Andrea, sitting in a corner of the bed.

Andrea blamed himself. He began to tense his hands on his thighs because too many thoughts were running through his head. He just wanted to spend time with Lucas, didn’t know when the Rut would come, and feared facing it alone.

They looked at each other intently, held hands, and that’s when Lucas proposed they go back together. He knew his job was flexible, and thanks to that, they wouldn’t have to be apart.

Lucas knew it was a crazy proposal—practically asking to move in together—but he didn’t want to leave him alone. To him, Andrea was a little lamb who could be attacked by any wolf that sensed his essence.

"We’ll be fine, and you know I can close the shop if something happens. Besides, you already know my routine," said Lucas, touching Andrea’s cheek.

Andrea's heart began to pound with the proposal. He felt like jumping or dancing; he didn’t know how to explain what was happening inside him, because living with Lucas was something that, despite the short time, he deeply longed for.

He moved Lucas’s arms to jump on him, to hug him and cover him with kisses, to tell him he was grateful to life for having met him, and that he was all he needed to be happy: warmth, but more than anything, attention.

Lucas hugged Andrea with all his strength and returned every kiss he was given. They behaved like children discovering first love for the first time. It was something indescribable: a mix of anxiety, madness, and an instinctive need to protect each other.

"Oh, I need to talk to Valentina. When will she be back?" said Andrea, curled up in Lucas's arms.

Lucas had completely forgotten about Valentina. His full focus had been on satisfying Andrea, which made him forget to respond. As he checked his phone, a thousand thoughts and excuses ran through his mind, and he knew his best friend must be worried about him.

Nothing. Not a single missed call, and even less so, a reply to his last message. She wasn’t like that; she was the type of person who answered messages immediately, even if others took days.

Lucas considered calling her, so he told Andrea about his concern, and he told him not to worry so much, since she knew he was there for his Rut, and surely didn’t want to interrupt.

"Relax. I actually need to organize a few things before traveling. Do you think we could go on Saturday?" said Andrea, putting Lucas’s phone aside.

The afternoon came, and the couple focused on enjoying normalcy: chats, shared silences, and small gestures. Andrea, meanwhile, started organizing his things, preparing to give the news to his family.

No one had any complaints. They knew Andrea was someone who often traveled in search of inspiration, and his parents were more than happy. As they said during dinner, they trusted that Lucas was a good person.

That night, a couple showed up: Bastian and Valentina. But by then, everyone in the family had already gone to bed early. It was only 9 p.m.

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? Andrea and I have been worried, right babe?" said Lucas, running to hug Valentina.

Andrea wasn’t there. When Lucas turned around, he was gone, so he thought he had probably gone to the bathroom, since he had seemed a bit anxious when the others arrived.

Valentina hugged Lucas tightly, grabbed his hands, and looked at him intently while rubbing the top of his hand. But he let go as soon as he heard Andrea calling him, so he had to excuse himself.

"Come on, it’s been a long day, and I think we should stay here tonight. Also, it hasn’t been long since you took the pills," said Bastian, hugging Valentina.

Bastian showed her his small apartment, which was on the other side of the family villa. It had two floors and an ocean view.

When Valentina approached to admire the view, Bastian stood behind her, moved her hair, and kissed her neck. She reacted with surprise, her arm hairs standing on end, and she tensed her hands from the strangeness of it.

"What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’re still tired," said Bastian, touching her waist.

"No. I just got surprised, that’s all," said Valentina, admiring the sea.

Just like Bastian's Rut, it had caught her by surprise. She let herself go. Like that time. Not knowing whether this time would hurt less or more. She surrendered to the caresses of her new lover, with whom she still hadn’t defined what kind of relationship they had, but she could sense it was stronger now, since they had gone through the Rut together, and she survived despite the initial pain.

The next day, they both woke up at 9 a.m. Valentina's body didn’t hurt as much as before, and it no longer burned when she peed, but she still felt somewhat anxious. Just by looking at Bastian, she could feel mixed emotions, but her rational mind told her it was the hormones from the morning-after pill. Since it was her first time taking it, she had to think logically that her body would go through changes she didn’t understand.

No one from the family was there to greet her. According to what Bastian had told her, his family worked in the fishing and seafood trade, so they went to bed early and left at dawn, only returning after the workday ended.

Valentina felt a bit sad that she couldn’t meet them. She wanted to know more about Bastian—who surrounded him, what they were like, their customs, and so on. But she didn’t dwell on it, since she had to return to her city as soon as possible. She had to get everything ready for Monday, was behind on the bidding process, and had lost the entire week.

"I’ll go back today. You coming? I have to return, or... what should we do?" said Valentina with uncertainty.

"You’re such a forgetful woman, haha. I’ll go next week and stay with you," said Bastian, tugging at her ears.

So before leaving the villa, Valentina went looking for Lucas. But she couldn’t find him anywhere. She called him a couple of times, but he never answered.

She started to feel anxious. The muscles in her wrist tensed up because he always answered her phone calls quickly. But Bastian surprised her from behind and told her that he had probably gone out to eat with Andrea or something like that and that she shouldn’t worry so much—they’d reconnect later.

Valentina agreed, so they returned so she could pack her bags. She bought the ticket on her app, and when they arrived at the hotel, she approached the concierge for the key, but Bastian went ahead and led the way to the room.

She was tired, so she took an energy drink to get everything ready on time. She took advantage of the fact that the train wouldn’t leave for a couple more hours and checked some emails while Bastian slept peacefully in the bed.

Since there were no buses or trains at that time to get to the main city where Valentina would catch her train, Bastian drove her there, an hour away.

At the station, holding hands, she could feel people staring. She could feel the heavy atmosphere and the judging glances, but she didn’t understand why.

Before she left, Bastian decided to take her to a small corner and kiss her as passionately as possible, telling her they would see each other soon and thanking her for going through the Rut with him. When he left, she stayed in that corner to avoid the strangers' intrusive gazes.

Valentina boarded the train slowly, scanning the platform as she found her car. She checked her seat, arranged her luggage, and sat down. She could finally relax and return home, but she still felt uncomfortable because she kept sensing that people were looking at her. She turned on her phone camera to see if she had something on her face. Then one of the train workers arrived.

She saw the train employee walking directly toward her, and her stomach twisted in response. Her body reacted before her mind could catch up. She didn’t understand what she had done wrong.

"Miss, I’m sorry… but I have to ask you to leave the train. The environment is affected, and some passengers are feeling discomfort due to your presence."

Chapter Text

"Excuse me? Am I making you uncomfortable?" Valentina raised her voice.

"Please lower your voice and step off the train, or we’ll have to call security," the train worker said, grabbing her backpack.

"Get your hands off me," Valentina snapped, yanking the bag from his grip.

As Valentina was removed from the train under stares full of disgust and horror, her stomach clenched, her legs threatened to freeze, a knot tightened in her throat, and her hands buzzed with adrenaline. She wanted to call the police, to explain the shame they were putting her through.

She didn’t understand this country. She didn’t understand what was happening—why she was being treated like this. She had done nothing wrong, yet they were treating her like a criminal.

She was dragged off the train. Humiliated again. And when she turned to look one more time at the passengers’ faces, searching for a glance of compassion, a silent understanding of the injustice—she found only accusing eyes, blades disguised as looks.

But instead of collapsing, she was met by two police officers.

"Excuse me. We’re going to need you to come with us," one of them said, keeping a meter’s distance.

She asked for explanations, but none were given. When she hesitated to move, they warned her they'd use force.

They walked roughly ten blocks, one officer in front and the other behind, keeping a precise meter apart. The social humiliation was far from over.

At the station, she was placed in a cold gray room. They confiscated all her belongings "for safety," as they said. She was afraid. She bit her lip. Curled her feet. Forced herself to breathe while scanning the room.

Panic crept in. She didn’t know how things had escalated so far. How had her week gone so wrong, in so many directions? All she could think about was running—but her feelings overwhelmed her.

"Sorry for the delay. Not many of us speak your language fluently," the interrogator finally said.

"Why am I here? What have I done wrong?" Valentina asked through tears.

As the interrogator explained what was happening, none of it made sense. Every word, every sentence sounded like a tongue-twister. She thought maybe her ears were blocked, or the hormones from the morning-after pill were messing with her perception—but no. She had been detained for disturbing public health and attempted abuse of an Omega.

"ABUSE?? HOW COULD I ABUSE AN OMEGA?" she screamed.

"Please calm down. You are being recorded. The scent you’re emitting can only come from an Omega under intense emotional distress—it exudes vulnerability."

Valentina explained everything. That she was a Beta. That she couldn’t feel anything like that. That her partner was an Omega. She was in the city visiting him—his name was Bastian Ricco.

Only then did she notice it: the interrogator was wearing gloves and something like a gas mask. She hadn’t seen it before. Everything had happened too fast.

They gave her back her phone so she could call Bastian and confirm her story. But he didn’t answer. She tried Lucas. No answer. Desperate, she called Andrea—and he picked up, confirming her words.

“Valentina, breathe. Bastian’s probably driving. You know you’re his priority,” Andrea said gently.

Nothing else was said after that. Once they had all her information, the police told her she’d need to shower. She thought maybe—just maybe—the nightmare was ending.

She would shower, apply the suppressor they’d give her, and take the first train or flight out.

She promised herself she’d never return. Not after this humiliation.

But it didn’t end there.

When she stepped out of the shower, two female officers were waiting—alongside a male officer.

"Why is there a man here? Could someone please hand me a towel?" Valentina asked, covering herself with the curtain.

"We’ll apply the suppressant. I’m an Omega—you can relax," the man said.

"You’re a man. I can do it myself. I don’t need anyone’s help," Valentina said, shaking.

Her refusal was ignored. Once again, she was degraded. Dehumanized. Touched in every corner, her body opened by the women under the watchful eyes of the male Omega.

She couldn't hold back the tears echoing through the tiled room. The shame was dismissed. They marked her with their eyes. Sniffed her like spoiled food. And when it was over, they left her in silence.

No towel. She found a blouse and pants that weren’t hers. She wanted to ask about her clothes... but she couldn’t stay naked. She changed and went to find someone—to demand an explanation.

But as she opened the door, the interrogator was already waiting.

"Apologies for not telling you earlier. Your clothes were burned due to pheromone contamination. The rest of your belongings will be returned tomorrow," he said, handing her a transparent bag with her wallet.

One more day. Whose clothes were these, she wondered? She was alone. Her phone was still confiscated. But more than anything—she couldn’t make sense of what was still happening.

Perhaps out of pity, the interrogator softened. He offered to guide her to a nearby hotel, as his shift was about to end—but first, she needed to sign a few papers so she could return the next day to collect her things.

Valentina agreed. She didn’t want to—but she had to be rational. She had to be Beta. She couldn’t let emotions rule her or she’d be crushed.

As she approached the documents, she realized she couldn’t read them. They weren’t in her language—or even a universal one. When she complained, the response was short and cold: “We don’t speak your language.”

She had no choice but to sign.

She waited at the entrance for thirty minutes. For a while, no one looked at her. It gave her a moment of relief as she stared down at the unfamiliar clothes she now wore.

When the interrogator approached, the pressure returned. She felt the eyes again.

The man seemed used to being the center of attention. She noticed it in his breathing, in the subtle smirks he gave to others before walking out the door with her. No one said a word.

Pheromones? Valentina wondered. Maybe someone—or several—wanted to say something. It didn’t feel normal that a police officer would offer help so casually to a Beta in trouble. Or worse: a Beta accused of abuse.

They walked ten minutes to a hotel. He was much taller than her, maybe the same age or a bit older. Maybe an Alpha. A serpent tattoo wrapped around his neck.

At the hotel, the officer walked ahead to speak with the staff. She didn’t understand why, but assumed it wasn’t his first time.

When she was about to thank him and say goodbye, he asked her to come to his room.
Of course, Valentina refused. But he insisted—he had something to tell her in private and couldn’t say it out there, in front of everyone.
There was something in the way he said it that made her pause. Not quite a threat. Not quite safe, either.
After everything that had happened, she didn’t feel like she could say no—even if she wanted to.

"I won’t be at the station tomorrow. But I strongly recommend you collect your things and never set foot here again. Do you understand me? Don’t come back."

Valentina was ready to argue—but he opened the door and left before she could speak. She followed after him, but as she stepped through, the door closed behind her. She turned to open it again... but the officer was gone.

Chapter Text

I am still making spelling corrections and minor adjustments from Chapter 1 through Chapter 28.

Although I originally announced that I would change the names of places, I realized along the way that this would create unnecessary pressure and might prevent me from continuing the novel out of fear of making mistakes. For this reason, I have placed a disclaimer at the beginning to protect myself.

English is not my first language, so thank you in advance for understanding if you notice any mistakes.

I will only be correcting spelling.
Nothing else has been changed—the story and its essence remain exactly the same.

Thank you—whether you're reading, bookmarking, or simply following this story.
🖤Clichex

Chapter Text

There was only one day left before heading back to Zurich—it was Friday. Most of the packing had been done the day before. Andrea was quick when it came to pulling trips together on short notice, but anyone who knew him also knew just how unpredictable he could be.

“Ugh… I think I need water. My head’s killing me,” Lucas groaned as he woke.

He felt drained—body heavy, stomach growling, head pounding. More than anything, the constant buzz of client messages was gnawing at him. His to-do list for when they got back could suffocate a man, and he knew the next few days would be nothing but stress.

The last thing he wanted was to worry Andrea. Even the smallest hint of stress could delay his rut even more.

After breakfast, he noticed Andrea still had one suitcase open and even less patience than a few days ago. As a good partner, Lucas thought that if the rut didn’t come within a week, a doctor’s visit might be a good idea.

He also toyed with the idea of introducing him to his sister—just for advice—but then doubted it. In his current state, Andrea didn’t seem like the type to take advice from anyone. Things had been going well on their own, and Lucas didn’t want it to look like an excuse to parade him in front of family. Yes, he’d met Andrea’s parents before—but only because of the circumstances.

“Babe, I need to go to the pharmacy for some meds. Won’t be long,” Andrea sighed.

“What? Nooo, don’t leave me,” Lucas pouted.

“It’s close by. I’ll be right back.”

“I refuse. I can’t be away from you,” Lucas grinned, dragging Andrea into his arms.

Andrea was in a foul mood. He wasn’t going far—just to grab his medicine—but he wanted a breath of air and had planned to go alone. Feeling pressured, he finally gave in and let Lucas tag along.

The pharmacy turned out not to be a pharmacy at all, but more of a herbalist shop.

Lucas had never been a believer in plants as medicine—he preferred traditional prescriptions from an actual doctor.

“Hi, do you have my package?” Andrea asked the clerk.

“It’s not here, but I can send it to you tonight.”

“But you promised it would be ready by now,” Andrea said, arms crossed.

Lucas stepped in, telling him it was fine—they weren’t leaving until tomorrow anyway. And if the shop didn’t have it, Zurich would. With its diverse migrant population, the city had everything.

Andrea gave him a sideways look. Lucas realized his mistake, left Andrea talking to the clerk, and stepped outside to call Valentina. Once again, he’d forgotten to get in touch.

“What’s with that face?” Andrea asked, tugging his ear when Lucas came back in.

“She’s not answering,” Lucas said, putting the call on speaker.

Andrea stared at him, arms crossed, breathing heavily—on purpose. Lucas didn’t want to stress him out further, so he eventually apologized. To calm things down, he explained his concern and why he kept in constant contact when traveling with someone. He felt like he was overexplaining, but when he noticed Andrea’s breathing start to slow, he kept going.

He told him Valentina had a few uncomfortable encounters with people around her—not in detail, but enough to make it clear some had crossed the line. And not just that—he emphasized the unspoken but very real rule among betas: you protect each other.

“Enough. Valentina’s not a child. She’s with Bastian. Did you come here for me, or to babysit her?” Andrea snapped.

Lucas let the subject drop. He didn’t want this to be the first fight or to put a dent in the goals they had together.

He pocketed his phone, stepped in front of Andrea, and scooped him up in his arms. Andrea shouted for him to put him down, clawed at his back—but then burst out laughing and yelled that he forgave him.

Passersby laughed, some pulling out phones to take pictures. It was a small town—no doubt they’d be the gossip of the week.

When they reached the villa, Andrea was still in his arms. Lucas shifted him so Andrea’s legs wrapped around his waist. Andrea felt butterflies every time Lucas kissed him—he loved their gentle touch, their unspoken glances, and, most of all, their tender kisses.

And as the kisses deepened, so did the heat between them.

Inside the apartment, Lucas froze for a moment—heart pounding, almost like a small tachycardia. The room was thick with the scent of condensed vanilla, flooding the air.

The hit of it brought back something Raffael had once said, but the situation was different now.

“Lucas, what’s wrong? Babe, look at me,” Andrea said, shaking him.

Lucas looked at him—angelic face, caramel eyes, flawless skin, and, more than anything, the irresistible way he looked in that moment. The scent was his. Lust radiated from him.

At first, Lucas calmed under Andrea’s embrace. But then something inside him demanded control.

Sweat rolled down his forehead. His hands tensed. His cock was already straining, painfully hard, his body begging for release like it was a matter of survival.

Andrea’s eyes widened, but instead of pulling away, he kissed Lucas with pure hunger. It wasn’t tender—it was a kiss without restraint, breathing into each other, sharing heat, breath, and the heady rush of power.

Touches, marks, and moans didn’t stop until nightfall. They were insatiable, until they’d screamed themselves hoarse.

By the sixth round, Andrea was so exhausted he passed out.

Lucas, though, needed more. He didn’t know why—his body was physically drained, but still desperate. His cock stayed hard, swollen, flushed an angry red, like he had nothing left to give but somehow still needed to.

He went to the bathroom and jerked off—not once, but twice. When the last drops finally spilled, his stomach churned, acid rising into his mouth, pain twisting deep enough to make the veins stand out along his belly and neck.

The effort left him so drained he couldn’t make it back to bed—he passed out on the bathroom floor.

By Saturday morning, Andrea noticed Lucas was gone from bed. He assumed he’d stepped out for air—until he found him unconscious on the floor.

“Lucas! Lucas!” Andrea yelled, panicked.

Tears already burning his eyes, he bolted out of the apartment to get his family—but tripped, splitting his eyebrow. His parents rushed in as someone called emergency services.

Within hours, the villa was the talk of the town—what had been the story of the “romantic couple” now smelled of tragedy.

“...Andrea? Where are you? Andrea…” Lucas’s voice was rough, strained.

Pain lit up his back and stomach, dizziness swarming his vision. It felt like wasps buzzing in his ears, dark spots dancing in his sight. Even the slightest move threatened to drag him back under.

Andrea had fallen asleep beside him. Hearing his name, he woke instantly—almost ripping out Lucas’s IV in his clumsy rush to kiss his hand, his forehead, his whole face.

Andrea’s parents slipped out quietly to give them space.

Lucas didn’t understand what had happened. He’d been fine that morning—eaten normally, taken breaks between rounds, even had a drink.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” Andrea cried.

“Slow down—my head’s splitting,” Lucas said, shielding his eyes.

From what Andrea pieced together, it was indigestion—his body didn’t seem to handle the local food well. Lucas doubted it at first—he traveled constantly—but maybe this was his body’s way of reminding him of his age.

By Sunday, he was almost recovered, thanks to the IV fluids and medication the doctor prescribed.

He still refused food. Andrea’s family insisted, but he declined—polite but firm. He didn’t want the same symptoms again, especially when the dizziness still came in waves.

Andrea’s parents offered to drive them to the airport instead of taking the train.

Everything went smoothly—until they reached Zurich airport and Lucas spotted a kebab stand. As tradition, he started walking toward it.

“Don’t even think about it. From now on, I’m cooking. And you’re taking your pills an hour before you eat. Oh, and I ordered some natural remedies for your liver,” Andrea said, steering him away from the stand.

Chapter Text

As if he were a ghost, as if he didn’t exist. She felt alone, once again.

When she hurried down the stairs, trying to be faster than the elevator, when she checked the lobby and even when she stepped outside the hotel—she couldn’t find him.

At first, Valentina didn’t understand the words of that investigator. She wanted answers, but since she hadn’t gotten them, all she could do was let out a heavy sigh and wonder if maybe the message meant nothing at all. Perhaps, out of pity for foreigners, he simply hadn’t wanted to add more fuel to the fire.

Back in her room, she decided to prepare a bath. It was a spacious room with a decent view of the city. She wanted to strip off the clothes she had on as quickly as possible; they made her feel dirty, and to her misfortune, she would have to wear them again the next day.

She dug desperately through her pockets, needing to reach Bastian, to explain everything—but then she remembered her phone had been left at the police station. She didn’t even know his number by heart.

Her mind turned into a maelstrom: tornados, thunder, lightning—symbols of the chaos consuming her thoughts and feelings. She couldn’t simply stop thinking, and yet she had no choice but to wait.

When morning came, the first thing on her list was to go to that small boutique next to the hotel. At first, they gave her strange looks because of her clothes, but once they saw her card charged in francs and not euros, smiles appeared—though they faltered for an instant when they noticed the mark on her shoulder.

She managed to recall how to get to the police station, but once inside, she couldn’t remember exactly where she needed to go.

As she stepped further in and her eyes landed on a familiar figure, a bittersweet taste filled her mouth. It was the omega police officer who had been present in the showers.

He led her again to a closed room where all her belongings lay. Her suitcases were open and empty, her clothes scattered across a table. Perfume bottles opened, nearly drained, creams just as bad. Her phone was sealed in a transparent bag, as though touching it might spread infection.

“Excuse me, but my jewelry is missing,” Valentina said, frantically flipping through her clothes.

“That’s all there is,” the officer replied.

Before closing the door, he gave her a look she couldn’t decipher. Pity? Mockery? Complicity? She didn’t want to think about it. It wasn’t that Valentina wanted to accuse them of theft, but she had arrived wearing her jewelry—it couldn’t have simply vanished.

She packed everything quickly and decided to look for the officer. The station wasn’t big; she searched every corner but couldn’t find him.

Just as she was about to give up, she saw him heading toward a small courtyard. Valentina approached to speak with him again, but two policemen blocked her way.

“Excuse me, I need to speak with him. My jewelry is missing,” Valentina said in English.

They shook their heads, one of them pointing toward a sign that prohibited access to that area.

Still, she raised her voice, calling for the omega officer. He didn’t answer. Instead, he walked away.

The policemen switched to Italian, words she couldn’t understand, and even shoved her back.

Valentina’s face flushed red. Her jaw clenched tight, her body stiffened, adrenaline rising in her chest as her eyes locked on theirs.

She completely forgot the interrogator’s warning and began shouting that they were thieves, that they had stolen everything, that they were corrupt.

And then a chill ran through her body as she sensed someone behind her, carrying a strange scent:

“Lower your voice, or you’ll be taken straight to the cells. Leave,” said a policeman in English, his eyes turned red, his body radiating a pungent cinnamon-like odor as he pointed at the exit.

It wasn’t a normal perfume. That dense, sour cinnamon stench clung to her nose. As a beta, she didn’t feel its full effect, but it still turned her stomach.

She had no choice but to keep quiet and get out of there. Her acute perception let her notice the officer’s heartbeat racing, the way his pheromones grew heavier, enough to make the others step back.

She had planned to make a scene, but she was no match for a station full of alphas and omegas. Defeated, she felt their stares pierce her back, their indiscriminate laughter following her out.

Shame, disappointment, anger, the urge to cry, pure helplessness—all of it coursed through her. She headed toward the train station, scratching at her face and arms as if something had bitten her.

So dazed was she that someone suddenly stopped in front of her, scowling, gesturing for her to answer a call:

Phone Call
“Valentina, finally! I’ve been calling a thousand times. Where are you?” Bastian shouted.

“They stole my jewelry, they sprayed me while I was naked. I’m not coming back,” Valentina said, fighting tears.

“Amore, every country has its rules. You don’t really think they robbed you, do you? If you get in trouble again, call me,” Bastian said softly.

For a moment, Valentina considered hanging up. She just stared at the tracks in front of her while strangers passed, giving her strange looks. Her head was a swirl of tangled thoughts, her heart a knot of contradictions.

An old woman approached, asking for directions. Valentina apologized, explaining she was also a tourist. The woman then pointed at Valentina’s arm: she had scratched herself raw without realizing. Anxiety was eating her alive.

Phone Call
“Valentina, who’s there with you? ANSWER ME!”

Stress, doubt, the paralysis of not knowing what to do—it all felt like vertigo, worsened by the sudden ringing in her ears.

Phone Call
“What did you say? I didn’t hear,” Valentina asked listlessly.

“I need you to tell me your every move. I’m worried sick about your safety,” Bastián said gently.

Though exhaustion still weighed her down, his words gave her a fleeting sense of peace and understanding. At first, she resisted, not wanting to speak to anyone, even feeling pressured—but then she told herself that maybe he was just as anxious as she was.

The itching didn’t stop, though it was less intense. She complied, gave him her location as he asked. She no longer wanted to think about anything—or anyone—else.

Arriving in Zurich, she felt the air was different, lighter. The HB central station was as crowded as always, but this time she was back on her own ground.

She wasn’t fond of wasting money on taxis, but with all the drama, and at Bastian’s insistence, it was the safest way to get home without setbacks.

Halfway there, her phone rang: Lucas. She ignored it, lowered the volume. She had no strength left, no will—and when the screen finally went dark, she felt only relief.

Monday came. She hadn’t stopped exchanging messages and calls with Bastian. She felt whole again, convinced he truly cared.

Because of that comfort, she decided not to mention what had happened at the police station. She didn’t want to relive that chill—or worse, spark a fight with him.

She went to the office as usual, and once again, just like the weekend before, she felt eyes on her.

“So, what’s it like to go through rut?” a coworker asked.

“Excuse me?” Valentina answered, startled.

Offices, like hospitals, were breeding grounds for gossip—not just creating it, but spreading it.

Valentina didn’t give details. It wasn’t that she disliked socializing—it was that she couldn’t do it with just anyone.

Hours passed, and as she was about to shut down her computer at the end of the day, she was called into an emergency meeting.

She assumed it was about the tender, but no—it was a new project. A commercial shoot for a water brand. The agency had just won a new client.

They gave her the brief, the budget, the dates. Time was tight, barely three months. It struck her as unusual, but in a good way—this wasn’t a small client.

The nights were falling faster now; at only 8 p.m., the darkness already pressed in. Returning to her routine made her feel whole again. She checked her phone, saw a message from Bastian, thought about calling him, but then:

Phone Call
“Valentina, is everything okay? You haven’t confirmed our meeting time,” Lorenzo said.

“Lorenzo! I’m so sorry, I’ve been swamped. Give me until tomorrow, please.”

She had forgotten. Forgotten about Lorenzo amidst everything. She had to call her partner—the one she hadn’t spoken to in days, ignoring his calls.

She quickly texted Bastian, saying she’d call later, that she was about to drive. She turned on the radio and dialed Lucas.

You’re listening to Radio 80s, the best in Zurich… now playing “Boys Don’t Cry.”

Phone Call
“So you’ve been ignoring me?” Lucas laughed.

“Hello,” Valentina said, serious.

“Hey, what’s with that tone?” (a voice echoed in the background).

“I’m driving, hold on… who’s with you?” Valentina asked, surprised.

“Ahh, yeah, Andrea moved in with me for a while.”

“Lucas… okay. Thursday at 8 p.m., you remember?”

“Yeeahh… I was thinking… what if I bring Andrea to the event? I don’t want to leave him alone,” Lucas said, lowering his voice as if he already knew it was a bad idea.

“EXCUSE ME?!” Valentina shouted, brakes screeching in the background.

Chapter Text

"Am everything you don’t want to see, everything you hate about yourself. Am everything and everyone who lacks love, but also all that is good, all that is strange, and all that is indiscriminate."

Chapter Text

The temperature began to shift; winds blown in from the Atlantic could already be felt, and with them the country’s rules and customs seemed to settle in even more.

“Shit!” Valentina said as she slammed on the emergency brake.
“Valentina?!” Lucas asked.
“Cows… I didn’t see them coming,” Valentina said, honking the horn.

Valentina didn’t know what to say, but she wasn’t about to let Andrea go to a meeting he hadn’t been invited to. Besides, those wounds they hadn’t closed yet were still bleeding.

“Let’s meet with Lorenzo first,” Valentina said, serious.

The call ended there; Valentina had no intention of giving an answer right then, knowing Andrea was probably listening. For her own peace of mind, she let the topic rest a little longer.

When you don’t keep your promises, whether for good or bad, conscience strikes; when you don’t clear up misunderstandings, the other person labels you.

Andrea didn’t want to give the matter too much attention, though he felt a bit uncomfortable about what had been happening with Valentina.

Besides, his mission from now on was to focus on Lucas and make sure his rut arrived as soon as possible. So he decided to erase those strange thoughts crossing his mind and not stress out.

“She’s acting a little weird, isn’t she? Do you think she fought with Bastian?” Lucas asked, uncertain.
“I don’t think so. Anyway, are you hungry?” Andrea said, heading to the kitchen.

Lucas kept thinking something had happened, though he didn’t want to worry Andrea. He felt sad, disappointed in himself, frustrated for not having controlled himself; and not only that. Every morning, when he woke up, he kissed the cut on Andrea’s forehead. The man treated him like a king, and every little detail made him feel guilty.

The week started chaotically. As always, Lucas woke up before Andrea, though a bit dizzy from the rush of it all. When he got to his shop, he ran into a long list of deliveries and, on top of that, noticed he had half the office full of unopened boxes.

Gloves, helmets, tires, parts of every kind. Being independent was hard sometimes—harder if you worked alone. He was happy despite everything; it was his lifelong dream.

By Wednesday afternoon he noticed he had no more customers: he’d managed to deliver everything that had piled up, but in exchange he now had a long list of new products.

He thought about calling Valentina to reach out to the photographer again, though he was a bit short on money; maybe he could barter like last time. It was necessary: now that Andrea was under the same roof, he needed to earn a bit more to make him comfortable.

Life in Switzerland was much more expensive than in Italy; he hadn’t even coordinated with Andrea how they would split expenses, though supposedly he would only stay a couple of weeks. After all, the priority was that Andrea wouldn’t be alone.

“I’m back!” Lucas said, dropping a box on the floor.

Andrea ran into his arms, covered him in kisses, and told him how much he’d missed him. When things got a little hotter, Andrea pulled away to hand him a big cup of tea.

“Finish it first, then the rest.”

The night went by normally: they ate dinner, watched a comedy series, got ready, and then went to bed. Another day done; another day where everything felt a little too perfect.

Thursday passed normally; Lucas didn’t have any customers all day. Some days were like that: every business had its seasons, and his was no exception.

“Hey, love…”

A familiar voice echoed through the shop. It was Andrea; he’d come to pick Lucas up so they could go home together.

“Babe, what are you doing here?” Lucas said, surprised.
“What do you mean? I came to pick you up,” Andrea said, arms crossed.

Lucas was happy with the surprise; it was something none of his exes had ever done, and the fact that he’d do that for him made Lucas feel like he was the person he’d been waiting for.

They closed up together and then headed to the supermarket, as usual, to buy some desserts—both Andrea and Lucas loved sweets.

Once home, they settled in; each took care of their responsibilities. Andrea handled the kitchen while Lucas cleaned and got everything ready for dinner.

When Andrea finished, he headed to the bedroom to join Lucas in the shower, but a phone started ringing.

Phone call:
“Lucas, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?” Valentina demanded.
“Hello…” Andrea said, with a doubtful tone.
“Andrea? Sorry… is Lucas there with you?” Valentina asked, surprised.
“Yes, he’s in the shower… do you want me to put him on?” Andrea asked.
“No, just tell him to call me,” Valentina said.

The night felt fresh, thanks to the laughter, the voices around, and the almost–weekend air.

Valentina and Lorenzo agreed to meet at Clouds, a bar famous for its view of the city. There were all kinds of people there; although most were certain castes, others weren’t turned away.

“Valentina!” Lorenzo said, giving her a kiss on each cheek.
“Lorenzo, I’m sorry; my partner couldn’t make it,” Valentina said, embarrassed.

Lorenzo noticed the discomfort on Valentina’s face; she was sometimes easy to read and, at the same time, difficult. For Valentina, Lorenzo had very sharp features, a face that hid a lot behind it, and an aura of wisdom.

Drinks and snacks arrived; they talked through the event in detail. At first glance, it was specifically for directors from the top agencies in the country, where most people went to make contacts.

“You and I both know it’s really an event to show off—but also to spy,” Lorenzo said with a sigh.

It was true: Valentina had never attended this kind of event; she didn’t have the experience, though she intuited its purpose. Still, although they had never worked together, both Lorenzo and Lucas knew that client circuit well.

Even so, something told Valentina this event wouldn’t just be for bragging—it would also be to size up future rivals.

When they checked the time, they realized they’d talked about everything except the most important thing. Lorenzo still hadn’t told Valentina who the client was or what her role would be there.

“So the client is the CEO of a company…” Lorenzo said.

Just as he began to explain, his phone started ringing, and he had to cut the topic short.

He apologized and stepped away from the table for a few seconds. At first, it seemed a little strange, but she assumed he had his reasons. From a distance she saw a Lorenzo she didn’t know: he crossed his feet, looked down at the floor, touched the back of his neck, smiling like someone in love.

For a moment, Valentina wondered: did Lorenzo have a partner? And if so, it definitely had to be an alpha.

She cut off the thought quickly and checked her phone. Bastian had sent her a message; she smiled instantly. But her smile faded when she noticed someone was returning a call she’d made earlier.

Phone call:
“Forgive me, I forgot. I’m sorry,” Lucas said.
“We need to talk. Pick me up tomorrow,” Valentina demanded.

When Lorenzo came back, he noticed Valentina got slightly nervous, hanging up the call as he finally reached the table.

“You didn’t hang up on your boyfriend because of me, did you?” Lorenzo asked, watching her curiously.
“Nooo. It was my friend,” Valentina said, laughing.

Lorenzo didn’t press further. He knew her as someone upright, but he’d never thought she’d get along so well with that beta; the hours went by so quickly they felt short.

They set up another outing for the following Friday; after all, the event would be in just three weeks.

The weekend arrived, and they only wanted to curl up—or “spoon,” as Lucas called it—without doing anything.

“I adore you, my piece of heaven,” Lucas said, kissing Andrea on the forehead.
“Your medicine!” Andrea said, dragging himself out of bed.

Lucas didn’t understand why Andrea got so worked up; he felt better every day, though he still had mild aftereffects. He didn’t even see the famous “healing teas” Andrea made as that necessary anymore.

Andrea became extremely strict, so Lucas couldn’t refuse; if he tried, Andrea pointed at the wound on his forehead to make him take it seriously.

“Do I have to? I’m better, and besides, sometimes it makes me feel a bit hyper; I guess it’s because I’m getting better,” Lucas said, pouting.

Lucas took his medicine in the mornings and at night and, since he felt more energetic each day, he asked Andrea for more caresses in return… After all, every time they connected, he only wanted to leave a big mark on that skin.

Chapter Text

Two weeks before the event

When the calendar flips to a new year, the months start slipping by faster. First it’s January, then suddenly it’s July, and before you realize it, October is here. Blink once, and you’re saying goodbye to it.

Days flew. Lucas felt better and better, bursting with energy. Too much energy. He was jittery, hyperactive, grinding his teeth without noticing.

He had been opening the shop regularly for days, but still had no clients. He knew it was normal, but sometimes he doubted—no one was even walking down his street.

He shook the thought away and remembered Valentina’s request: pick her up so they could talk about what had been happening.

When it was time to close, he stacked a few boxes lying around and called Andrea to tell him he’d be late. Andrea had asked him not to come home at odd hours. At first, he hated the idea, but later had no choice but to accept, not without insisting that, even if they spent time apart, Lucas had to take his medication.

Across the city, what once seemed tragic now felt almost manageable. Stress didn’t reach her—at least not when it came to work.

She couldn’t stop looking at her watch. She could’ve checked her computer screen instead, but she had this habit she couldn’t control. Soon it would be time to leave, and he’d be there waiting.

While finishing one last email, her phone lit up. He was already outside. She needed five more minutes, so she texted back: wait in the parking lot.

On her way out, whispers reached her from the account guys. The office wasn’t big, nor crowded, but the tall ceilings made every sound echo.

She rushed outside and found him still wearing his helmet.
“Were you standing out front?” Valentina asked.
“Yeah. But I moved after your message,” Lucas replied.

The whispers came again, footsteps closing in.
“Valentina, aren’t you going to introduce us to your boyfriend?” someone teased.

Exactly what she didn’t want. It had happened before, and she knew more questions would follow.
“He’s just my best friend, guys,” she said.

No one argued, but whistles and jokes followed, asking for the number of “the guy with the helmet.” She cursed herself. This was a meeting spot for too many people. Next time, she’d pick another place.

They headed toward HB Central Station. It was only seven p.m., so the food court downstairs was still open. After eating, she could head straight to her train home.

When they parked, she jumped off quickly. Her hands itched, her stomach knotted with awkward noises.

“What’s wrong? Do I disgust you or what?” Lucas asked.
“What’s your problem? Why are you talking to me like that?” she shot back.

He didn’t get it. They were supposed to meet, talk, fix things. They cared deeply for each other. They never hid anything.

They picked burgers. It had been forever since their last. His idea—burgers always brought them back together.

She ordered for both, knew his favorites, but neither spoke much. Silence lingered until the end, like they’d forgotten how to start.

He tried first. Usually she ate slowly, ordering something extra while she lingered. Not tonight. As soon as she finished her burger, his phone buzzed. Andrea.

“Pills?” Valentina asked.

He’d forgotten. Again. He hadn’t told her about the incident, about the scar on Andrea’s forehead. It wasn’t the right time. Not now.

Outside the restaurant, his phone rang again. The voice on the line made his stomach twist. Shame. He rubbed his face, then his neck, harder, restless.

She knew exactly who it was. Knew he was under pressure. She spotted the tic—his cheek brushing fast against his shoulder, then both hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“I have to go. I’ll pick you up Monday. No—call me instead. We’ll set up the meeting with Lorenzo,” he said, exhaling sharply.

She almost agreed, but:
“No, stay. What’s going on? It hasn’t even been two hours.”
“I’m in a rush. Bye,” he muttered, then bolted.

She was left speechless. Anyone would’ve thought it was an emergency, seeing his desperation. Maybe it was. Either way, she felt ignored.

The whole way home was pure desperation. The need for warmth. Restlessness. Chaotic thoughts of teleporting, of just being there already.

He lived in a block of flats in Dübendorf, a place surrounded by forest.

His parking spot was taken by another bike. He froze. Then fury. Something that belonged to him, used by someone else—it made him explode. Screams, violent, echoing. Passersby turned to stare.

He called the concierge, demanded answers, threatened him with consequences.

After hanging up, his eyes locked on a couple nearby. One of them held a helmet. He stormed over.
“That your bike?” he barked.
“I’m sorry. The space was empty. I thought it wasn’t reserved,” the man stammered.
“Not reserved? Move your damn bike now or I’ll call the cops,” Lucas roared.

The stranger fumbled, shaking so badly he didn’t notice the keys in his own pocket. Lucas revved his engine in warning. He didn’t care about the stares from balconies above. He parked anyway, stomping toward the elevator.

“Mr. Schmidtt, I—” the concierge tried.
“Shut up. I don’t need excuses from second-class staff,” Lucas spat.

The man silenced, eyes fixed on the floor. Lucas’s head pounded. The elevator was crowded. He shoved himself in, forcing space.

At his door, his hands shook, searching frantically for keys. Nothing. His curses grew louder, veins bulging in his neck.

He slammed the door with his fists. Andrea opened, startled, afraid.

Lucas smiled at the sight. His breathing quickened, adrenaline flooding his body. He pushed Andrea inside, slamming the door shut behind him.

His steps were heavy. When nothing stood between them, Andrea felt the bulge press against his stomach.

Lucas grabbed his hair, bit at his ear, his hand locking behind Andrea’s neck while the other tore off the towel.

He sniffed him hungrily, sweat dripping down his nose. Andrea licked it without thinking.

Their eyes locked for seconds. Andrea bit his lip, teasing. Lucas clamped his jaw in return.

The scene was tense, dangerous. Their breathing ragged, sharing the same air, until they crashed together in a mess of saliva, tongues, frantic gasps devouring them both.

Andrea tried to climb onto him, but Lucas shoved him down against the furniture, pinning him to suck at his chest.

He slid lower, took him fully in his mouth.

Arms hooked under Andrea’s thighs, pulling hard at his hips. He devoured him, pushing deep until his throat closed around him, like he wanted to drink every drop.

When he finally pulled back, Lucas unbuckled his belt.
“Shall we start?” he said with a grin, eyes locked on him.

Thrust after thrust, Andrea couldn’t stop screaming. He only wanted to be taken, wrecked, marked by this man who grew more possessive by the second.
“Bite me, Lucas. MARK me!” he cried.

One week before the event

The week rushed by. Another month had started, along with the promises people made themselves keep.

The meeting was again at The Clouds. Valentina hadn’t stopped texting him since the last time, even when he called her dramatic. Andrea’s discomfort didn’t matter to her; this time, she picked him up herself so he couldn’t run away.

Lorenzo had seen him before at events, though they’d never spoken. He knew the reputation—both as an executive, and as a lover.

“Lorenzo. Lucas,” Valentina greeted with a smile.
“Let’s eat on the terrace,” Lorenzo suggested.

She wrinkled her nose as a waiter approached with drinks and something else. For a second, her body remembered something she was trying hard to bury.

Lorenzo was faster. He blocked the waiter with a polite smile, leaning toward Lucas.
“Bathroom. Now,” he ordered, leaving no room for doubt.

Lucas blinked, confused. Valentina nudged him toward the hallway.
“Go. Do what he says.”

Inside, Lorenzo straightened his jacket and whispered under his breath:
“Betas shouldn’t smell like that.”

Valentina didn’t want to seem paranoid, but she knew something was wrong. The answers could only come from Lucas.

When it was over, shame burned in his face. He didn’t look at either of them, feeling reduced.
“I don’t care, but it was too strong,” Lorenzo said.
“I’m sorry, these things…”

He was cut short. A presence at his back.
“These things what?” Raffael asked.

Zurich was small. Running into people was normal. Running into him again felt like a curse.

“Here we are again, dear colleagues,” Raffael sneered.
“Raffael, leave,” Valentina snapped.

Lorenzo and Lucas stayed quiet. She usually kept her composure, but this time her patience thinned.

Raffael froze, thrown off by her tone. She wasn’t the same. More confrontational.

Guilt flickered through Lucas. He glanced at Lorenzo, exchanging a look before breaking it. Awkward silence. His foot tapped restlessly.

Raffael smirked, nodded farewell, but didn’t go far. He lingered on the terrace.

Lorenzo broke the tension, ordering drinks and diving into the details of the client.

The job was a year-end event, with a chance to build a long-term partnership. The brand? A well-known liquor company.

“You’ve worked with them before, right?” Valentina asked.

Lucas froze for a couple of seconds.
“Lucas! Hey, where are you?” she called.
“Sorry. Zoned out.”

Lorenzo carried on, finally pulling out the invitation. Matte black, golden trim. Valentina brushed the edge; she knew that embroidery.

“What do you think? It was Miguel’s idea,” Lorenzo said.

Chapter Text

It was a card, smooth to the touch. At its center shone a circle of pure gold, sleek and flawless. Inside the ring, a laser QR code.
There were no words, only that symbol—like a secret kept hidden.
When scanned, a video appeared on the screen, bursting into smoke and distant laughter.
Masks floated between glasses, music, and a seductive murmur.
The camera rose, showing the city at night, bright and dangerous.
Then it descended toward a figure identical to the guest, holding their phone.
On the screen appeared the name, the rank, the caste, and a golden seal spinning.
Finally, the secret code to enter the event emerged: the key was a perfume made only for him or her.

Valentina smiled—not authentically, but with condescension. Lorenzo kept explaining the details to the group, while he felt someone, slightly near their table, watching them from the corner of their eye.
The meeting ended rather late, but at last, they managed to coordinate everything pending. Now all that was left was for the event to arrive.

The Day of the Event

“Seriously, I can’t go?” Andrea asked, pouting.
“Forgive me, I tried,” Lucas replied, gently squeezing her cheeks.
“Poor you if you flirt with someone else. I’ll be waiting for you,” Andrea said, half serious, half playful.

The day of the event had arrived. Lucas was visibly stressed: there was a chance he might run into someone from his old agency. They hadn’t ended on bad terms, but deep down he felt he might have betrayed some people’s trust.

The chosen location was a well-known bar. Lorenzo had demanded that only the best be used for that night.

Lucas’s outfit blended autumn air with classic tailoring, modern yet elegant. He wore a long black coat, straight and slim cut, no designs, adorned only with three large, gleaming buttons.
The pants, straight and fluid, evoked a palazzo without quite being one; he paired them with a crimson leather belt and a plain metallic buckle. A thin white cashmere turtleneck, short-sleeved, completed the upper part, along with short chunky black leather boots by Dr. Martens. Everything impeccable, accompanied by a classic wristwatch with a black leather strap and a rebellious wolf cut hairstyle.

“You look so handsome,” Andrea commented, crossing her arms and looking him up and down.

Lucas and Valentina had arranged to meet near the bar. They had to wait for Lorenzo before they could enter. Lucas was still nervous: he felt as if he were sweating, but when he touched himself, there was nothing.

It was two in the afternoon in Maur. The sun had come out—something unusual, considering the weather was already beginning to change.

“Fuck… should I wear a girdle?” Valentina muttered deliriously in front of the mirror, undecided about what to put on.

After going back and forth (first choosing an outfit, then regretting it), she finally settled on a simple black three-quarter sleeve turtleneck. She paired it with a long ivory skirt, with a high slit on the right leg, adorned with black lace floral embroidery.
Over it, she wore a black leather blazer-style jacket, plain and unadorned, finishing with knee-high boots that gave her a more dramatic, powerful air. She chose long silver earrings, a silver fantasy watch, and a choker-like steel snake necklace. To complete the ensemble, she added a small, square black bag.

She wasn’t good at makeup; even though she followed many influencers, no matter how hard she tried, she always felt she looked odd. But this time was the exception: she applied a bit of foundation, outlined her eyes in a smoky-eye style, and dabbed her lips with a pink balm.

Her jet-black, shiny hair fell in a long shag that framed her face. She crossed her fingers so no one would look too closely at her that night and murmured to herself, with a flirty smile in front of the mirror:

“Mmm… my ass looks so good in this skirt.”

Night fell. Friday was always the favorite day of many—it invited relaxation and celebration of the weekend’s arrival, even if it was short.

“You? Wearing makeup? What’s going on? It’s the end of the world,” Lucas joked.
“Idiot!” Valentina shot back, glaring at him.
“Mmm… how flirty,” whispered a voice very close to her ear.

Valentina let out a startled scream. It was Lorenzo, who had arrived with steps so soft they were barely noticed.

Once the three were together, they decided to head toward the entrance of the venue.

“Lorenzo, wait… aren’t we supposed to take off our shoes?” Valentina asked, uncertain.

It was one of the bar’s strictest policies: whoever refused would never get in. However, Lorenzo only gestured for silence with his hand, inviting her to trust him.

Inside, Lorenzo didn’t lead them to the center, where the pool was, but toward the kitchen, which still had staff working. He guided them straight to the cold storage room.

“What’s going on, Lorenzo? Planning to turn us into meat?” Lucas joked sarcastically.

Valentina hesitated too. The sound of the cooks pounding meat, the metallic clang of knives, and even the sensation of blood splattering on cutting boards sent a shiver down her spine.

They chose to trust him. Lorenzo opened the door to the chamber, and inside, there were two exits. They moved toward the one on the left, but before opening it, Lorenzo pulled something from his pocket: a small vial. It was the perfume mentioned in the invitation. He sprayed a little on himself, then on Valentina and Lucas as well.

It didn’t smell bad—in fact, it was an expensive fragrance. But there was something strange in that gesture; Valentina glanced at Lucas for reassurance, and the fake smile he returned confirmed her unease. It felt as if they had just signed a contract without reading it.

The door revealed a dark hallway. There, two massive bodyguards stood like towers, waiting. When they stepped aside, a woman appeared behind them, her sensuality perceptible even before she was fully in sight. She wore a bodycon dress that clung to her figure—but the most striking thing were her red eyes.

“Mr. Galotti, are these your beta companions?” she asked, her voice dripping with magnetism.

She said little else. Her red eyes scanned Lucas and Valentina as if they were merchandise, then she turned with a mechanical gesture.

She led them to another door. When it opened, concrete stairs were revealed. They descended, and Lorenzo opened the next entrance. Lucas and Valentina were left speechless: this place had nothing to do with what it looked like from outside.

A colossal fifteen-meter Buddha dominated the room. To one side, a bar long enough to serve thirty people. Everything glowed in red, black, and gold lights, adorned with floating crystal chandeliers. The masked waiters moved with precision and elegance.

Lucas froze in shock: it was as if he could read the emotions in the air, tangled with the laughter and shouts of the crowd. The pressure built in his temples. He was restless, agitated.

“So then… to why we came,” Lorenzo announced calmly.

They moved forward together. Lucas realized there were far too many people; Switzerland wasn’t such a large country, so many of those present must have come from abroad.

Valentina was still uneasy, but she was nervous too. She thought about holding Lucas’s hand, but before she could even try, someone shoved her roughly—making her feel ignored all over again…

Chapter Text

"Oh, sorry, where’s your…?"

The person who had shoved Valentina couldn’t even finish the sentence before Lucas cut him off. He took Valentina’s hand and dragged her along. His heart started racing again; he bit his lips harder, but above all, his breathing was ragged.

Lorenzo got worried, thought they’d gotten lost, then relaxed when he saw they were together.

"Guys, let go of each other’s hands; people will think you’re a couple," Lorenzo said.

"Bah, I don’t care. You don’t either, right?" Valentina said.

Lucas let go of her hand as if it burned him, and immediately realized he’d done something wrong. Valentina didn’t need words; the way she looked at him was enough to nail him with guilt.

Valentina looked at him with discomfort; her eyes fixed first on Lucas’s hand and then on his face, intensely. Not even three seconds passed before she said in a low voice, "And then you say I disgust you…"

Lucas wanted to apologize—he didn’t think, he just reacted. It was an impulse; he knew why they were there and that simply holding hands meant nothing. But Valentina ignored him and turned her back on him.

They headed to a corner where a man in his fifties was drinking whiskey with others, perhaps his same age. He had Afro-descendant features and green eyes. Valentina was hypnotized for a moment, but that feeling changed drastically when he started staring at her without getting up, toying with the glass between his fingers.

Both she and Lucas felt small, uneasy. The man was imposing, but more than that, he had a peculiar way of looking at people. A chill ran down her spine and her stomach turned when the man spoke.

"So you’re the producer, right?" he said.

"Yes. That’s me," Valentina answered, her voice cracking.

Valentina froze. She’d dealt with all kinds of clients, but this was the first time her legs trembled. Lucas noticed the situation and jumped in.

"Nice to meet you—Lucas Schmidt, account executive."

"A pleasure. Then let’s go to the room," the CEO replied.

Valentina felt worse by the minute, a familiar sense of alert humming in her head. Her embarrassment showed in a small stumble, even though she kept her eyes on the floor.

She tugged at the sleeve of Lucas’s jacket in thanks, and he squeezed her hand tightly for a moment.

The CEO, another man, Lorenzo, Valentina, and Lucas entered a small white room where Asian Renaissance paintings hung on the walls. The meeting lasted about an hour, maybe more. There was no way to measure time, and no one tried.

The man listed everything he wanted as if money weren’t an obstacle, and Lorenzo agreed to everything.

"So, how much are we talking about?" the CEO asked.

Valentina opened her mouth to answer, but Lorenzo cut in, blurting out a number without even consulting her. She took a breath and, even knowing her voice was shaking, said, "How about you send us the details of what we discussed by email first? Based on that, we can give you a detailed estimate with recommendations."

Lorenzo smiled, apparently realizing his mistake, and added, "Yes, Valentina’s right. Lucas, can you help me?"

Lucas smiled. He said nothing, but understood what he meant. Lorenzo looked like a rookie.

He coordinated with the CEO’s assistant, they exchanged contacts, while Lorenzo couldn’t stop praising the CEO. Meanwhile, Valentina sat in the back, trying to ignore everything and scrolling through her phone.

"Perfect. I look forward to the estimate and our next meeting," the CEO said.

When it ended, the man invited them all for drinks, in a place not even Lorenzo had access to.

Behind the meeting room there was an emergency exit that led to a corridor.

"Those are your pheromones, right? I like that they’re marked," the CEO said.

"What do you think? Delicious, right?" Lorenzo replied sarcastically.

Lucas started clenching his fists and darting his eyes side to side as they walked down the corridor, as if looking for an exit. With every step closer to the end, for some reason, all kinds of smells pressed in on them.

He started scratching his head, picking at the skin on his fingers, twisting his mouth, and to calm his anxiety, he made the terrible decision to place his hand on Valentina’s nape without permission.

Valentina grimaced in pain, wanting to scream in silence at the pressure she felt. She could feel Lucas’s heart racing. She thought about clawing him when the door finally opened.

It was a gigantic underground terrace with its own bar, patio, pool, and stairs leading to Lake Zurich. The floors were tempered glass, and from the ceiling hung different figures with the hunter’s symbol.

Valentina, unconsciously, stayed absorbed staring at the stairs while trying to remember the way in. Her thoughts were cut short when Lucas pressed her nape again.

"Alright, enjoy yourselves," the CEO said.

They decided to head to the bar. Valentina gently stepped on Lucas’s foot; it was too many emotions all at once.

"One pisco sour and a negroni, please," Valentina said.

But when you don’t want to run into someone—when you pray they won’t appear—that’s exactly when they show up in front of you.

"Friends, what are you doing here?" Raffael said, resting his hand on Lucas’s shoulder.

"Can we talk alone for a moment?" Lucas replied.

Valentina was stunned. For some reason, Lucas asked to speak to Raffael in private, and the two disappeared among the guests. Everything that had been happening lately was strange; this was the cherry on top.

"Luca…" Valentina said, getting cut off.

All the actors and a few uninvited extras were there. It was Miguel.

"What are you doing here? Are you screwing some alpha?" Miguel said.

Valentina thought about smashing her drink on his head, but remembered she was there for business.

Her phone rang—thankfully. She gave Miguel a polite yet sarcastic smile and moved away.

She went to a corner to talk. It was Bastian, worried because he hadn’t heard from her in hours. Valentina was surprised, but when she checked her phone, it was already past midnight.

"How could so much time have passed? I didn’t get it: arriving, talking to the CEO, everything felt like only a few minutes. It was as if time there existed in an alternate reality."

She tried to talk a bit more with Bastian, but he told her he needed to sleep and asked her to call when she got home. Not only that—he asked her to do it as soon as possible, because her safety was of utmost importance to him.

She hung up feeling sorry for Bastian, who had stayed awake thinking about her, and at the same time it made her happy because she knew how much he cared. Bastian’s voice gave her security, courage, and at times made her feel she could be invincible.

It was time to go home and say goodbye to Lorenzo, but also to look for Lucas… though someone stepped in her way.

"How have you been, Valentina?" Erick said.

The man from her nightmares. The one who used to pay her bills. The ultimate cheapskate. The man she didn’t want to see again—worse than having Raffael in front of her, and as uncomfortable as Miguel.

To many, Erick was a man with sharp brows and a chiseled jaw that framed a penetrating, almost defiant gaze. His eyes were a mix of coldness and melancholy, as if hiding secrets. With fair skin tinged slightly olive, he contrasted with his dark, slightly wavy hair. Always in black, always sober, with a small mole on his left cheek—an unmistakable mark.

Valentina managed only a quick smile and a small bow of greeting and farewell to end the conversation right there. That would be enough; there was no need to talk. Now, more than ever, she wanted to flee that jungle.

But Erick blocked her view, placing his right hand on the wall to show his dominant posture and making her step back without thinking.

"RH told me you still haven’t come back for your pay," Erick said with a big smile.

It was the very topic she didn’t want to discuss with him and had decided to ignore to avoid more stress in her life.

"I haven’t had time, sorry. I’ll call RH—don’t worry about such a boring matter," Valentina said, trying to escape the conversation.

She thought her answer would be enough to shake him off, but Erick blocked her again. For a few seconds, her body froze; an irritating, nervous sensation jolted through her.

In the distance she could see Miguel and others watching them—or rather, watching her with disgust, as if she’d done something worthy of the guillotine.

"It is boring, but you’re here, so let’s settle this now," Erick said, staring at her.

If there was something Valentina hated, it was being looked at directly in the eyes. In response, she averted her gaze. It made her feel as if they could read inside her, and that was exactly what she didn’t want.

But then something started to smell off. She knew what it was—she knew it was her. She needed her bag, but realized that without noticing, she’d left it at the bar. She panicked and shoved Erick with all her strength.

He wouldn’t let her go, so Valentina had no choice but to show him something forbidden, something many ignored. Something that, despite being as beautiful as gold, would only bring consequences. Valentina’s rut had arrived.

He let her go, shocked. Eyes followed her. She reached her bag, opened it, and took her neutralizer. She could feel the heaviness in her back, at the nape of her neck.

She decided to leave first. The corridor she’d come through was empty. She called Lucas—no answer. She called Lorenzo—no answer. She considered staying there until things calmed down, until the symptoms eased, but then she heard the door open.

She didn’t know if they were following her or not. She didn’t look back and walked quickly toward the exit.

When she grabbed the doorknob to head to the main conference hall, she ran into someone not entirely unexpected.

"Valentina? What are you doing here?" Alex said, surprised.

"Alex, please—get me out of here," Valentina said.

They crashed back into the noise, into the crowd. Valentina didn’t lift her eyes from the floor for a second; she didn’t want anyone to see her, and let herself be guided only by the hand leading her.

She didn’t know how far they’d walked, but she thought they were close. She could hear voices asking about a strange perfume; some were saying someone was in heat. The hairs on her arms stood up and, for a second, she froze.

Someone caught up to her, yanked her to face him, and forced her to release Alex’s hand.

"Where’s your owner? Aren’t you ashamed to let everyone see?" Erick said, eyes red as he fixated on the sweet pheromones around her.

A slap… that’s what Valentina thought of doing. But the dancing crowd pushed between them, making Erick let go, and Alex dragged her away again.

He was her savior, her guide. Without him, she would’ve caused a scandal that would stain her for life.

At the exit, two bodyguards blocked the way. Valentina had to humiliate herself again, showing her eyes. They made mocking noises with their mouths and let them through.

She wanted to vomit, she wanted to cry. Her stomach twisted with pain. Alex, worried, hugged her. Many people stared; she didn’t know if they were guests or strangers. Her makeup had run.

Her hatred burned so hot she grabbed her phone and wrote to the only person who might be able to ruin Erick’s life:

"Good evening. Sorry for the hour, but I’ve made a decision: I want to go to trial."

While Alex comforted her, she tried calling Lorenzo or Lucas again, but there was still no answer. Not a minute of peace. The lights went out, the noise dropped.

Her shame was drowned out by screams slicing through the crowd like a knife. A woman covered in blood collapsed to the floor.

"Someone’s been killed! Call the police!"

Valentina went blank. Fear paralyzed her; she didn’t know how to react.

Chapter Text

One hour before the murder

One of life’s constants is that, sooner or later, someone will tell you no. Every boundary must be intrinsically respected.

“Are you watching us?” Lucas asked directly.
“Just coincidences. But those pheromones… what are you doing here?” Raffael replied.

A short conversation stretched on; Raffael was an excellent talker. Without realizing it, Lucas lost track of time and, when he searched for Valentina with his eyes, he couldn’t find her.

“I thought you two hated each other,” someone said.

It was Lorenzo, appearing out of nowhere. The tone of the conversation began to shift, drifting into gossip. Talking about the past was the last thing Lucas wanted; he had good reason for that.

The anecdotes and teasing grew when someone very interesting joined them. It was the CEO—perhaps one of the evening’s biggest prizes. But with his arrival, the circle widened, attracting the greed of many.

Some voices began to rise; Lucas instinctively tried to find the core of the problem, but he couldn’t detect anything out of the ordinary. People were looking toward the bar, and he thought maybe someone unwanted had appeared.

“Want some?” someone asked.

It was common in gatherings like this; he wasn’t surprised. On the contrary, he could sense how fast their hearts were beating, how their pupils were beginning to dilate. The symptoms were obvious to the naked eye, whether you were a beta or not.

“It’s been a pleasure, I’m leaving,” Lucas said, trying to make his way out.
“Hey, hey, why so fast? Let’s play a little,” someone called.
“I don’t like adrenaline games,” Lucas replied, annoyed.

Raffael shifted the conversation; after all, he had a goal to achieve and couldn’t let the group split.

He pulled Lucas aside and explained something everyone knew by the book. Lucas looked out of it, searching everywhere as if he needed to escape.

Raffael thought of distracting him, maybe offering a drink to clear his mind. He needed him awake.

“I’ll buy you a drink,” Raffael said.
“How kind of you. You need something from me, don’t you?” Lucas replied with his best smile.
“Am I that obvious?” Raffael said, winking toward the group.

Raffael led the way. The terrace was perhaps as large as the main hall. The atmosphere began to change; it could be seen in people’s grimaces, in their glances, but especially in the way they covered their mouths.

“I forgot to ask if anyone wanted anything,” Raffael said, nudging Lucas.

There was a scent in the air that was familiar yet unrecognizable. Something floral, or perhaps sweet, provocative, but definitely animalistic.

Raffael didn’t relent; he wouldn’t let Lucas advance, pushing him back instead. Something felt off; the situation between them grew tense.

“Someone’s in heat… we need to give them space,” Raffael said with a worried look.

That was when a name flashed through Lucas’s mind. He, better than anyone, knew that anyone unable to control their pheromones would be branded indecent; after all, both omegas and alphas prided themselves on being able to control them.

When they returned, the group was more hyperactive than before; one only had to look into their eyes. Lorenzo was wrapped in the CEO’s arms. And through Lucas’s mind passed a phrase he’d heard many times: Prostitution of cordiality.

That phrase snapped him back to reality and reminded him that he had left her. He thought of calling, but when he pulled his phone from his pocket, he saw thirty-five missed calls. He inhaled sharply, and with it, a wave of tension flooded him.

Phone call

“WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? ARE YOU WITH SOMEONE ELSE? WHAT IF I HAD AN ACCIDENT?” Andrea shouted.
“Baby, calm down, I’m stuck with clients,” Lucas replied, his voice breaking.

Complaint after complaint only made him want to hang up. He also noticed a couple of missed calls from Valentina and thought of calling her once Andrea finished scolding him.

“ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME? COME BACK RIGHT NOW, YOU HAVEN’T EVEN TAKEN YOUR MEDICATION,” Andrea demanded.

When the call ended, he realized he couldn’t move his arm from the pain; the unconscious tension of gripping the phone had left him sweaty, annoyed, and drained.

This time he would leave without saying goodbye, slipping away in silence.

Without anyone noticing, acting as discreetly as possible, he headed for the bar.

When he arrived, he sensed that fragrance again; that familiar calm. He knew it wasn’t just cologne.

“You’re a beta, right?” someone asked.

Beta. Yes, he was a beta. The word echoed in his head. He inhaled deeply, and something in his body wanted to react. Sharp pangs hit his lower back, his legs tightened, and something began to tingle inside him.

That fragrance… now he remembered. It wasn’t just any perfume; it was something he had felt before.

“Hahaha, will your eyes change like hers did? She looked like a damn dog,” the stranger said.

Lucas swallowed hard, not thinking any further—he had to find her. But with every step he took, the scent shifted; he could feel its intensity, as if something were calling to him.

The hallway was empty. He inhaled desperately, as if he might lose the trail, biting his lips as saliva began to drip.

“Hey, beta, come back, you’re ruining my business,” Raffael said.

Lucas couldn’t hear him. He followed the traces the scent left behind, inhaling again. His body burned; his hands sweated.

Raffael, like Lucas, was almost the same size, but one of them ended up crashing into a cold concrete wall between the crowd and the shadows.

“I thought you didn’t like flour…” Raffael said sarcastically.

Lucas was strong, but Raffael wasn’t weak. So many unknown feelings and symptoms bloomed, and a mixed scent forced its way through. It was Lucas.

Startled, Raffael let go. Lucas bolted toward the entrance but ran into the bodyguards.

“Don’t let him out!” Raffael shouted.

Many believed only female betas experienced such symptoms, but nothing could be further from the truth; a male beta also had a shadow. He could feel, too.

Lucas was pinned by the bodyguards, and Raffael took the chance to frantically search his pockets until he found the neutralizers. With the guards’ help, he forced Lucas to take the medication.

It didn’t take long, but maybe it was the combined strength of the two bodyguards that finally made Lucas start to calm down.

“Aren’t betas supposed to control themselves?” Raffael asked.
“Control myself?” Lucas replied.

Raffael thought he had seen two different versions of Lucas in less than an hour. He knew little about betas, but believed there wasn’t much to understand anyway.

He didn’t want to be linked to a beta. After all, to Raffael, Lucas was just bait for the shark. He signaled the security team to let him go; he needed a drink and company to calm down.

When the door opened, cries and sobs filtered in from somewhere.

Lucas immediately shut the door; the four of them exchanged glances, but curiosity won and Raffael moved Lucas aside. No one was in that kitchen—only pots releasing steam and knives scattered across the floor.

As Raffael stepped out, Lucas was shoved in return. The door behind them closed.

“Are you crazy? Damn alpha, they’re going to skin us alive,” Lucas said, searching for a knife.
“Calm down. I’ll call the police,” Raffael replied.

The police had already arrived; apparently someone had alerted them. As the two approached the main hall, the cries grew louder, retching spread from person to person, and fainting began to ripple through the crowd.

They joined a small cluster of onlookers, driven by the urge to know. They crouched like mischievous children, and through the legs of several people a body came into view.

It was the alpha—the hostess with striking red eyes. A kitchen axe was buried in her face, the torn skin laid bare, and a knife sunk deep into her stomach.

The body no longer moved, no longer breathed. No trace remained of that once-intense gaze, now fixed, empty, lost on a single point.

Blood kept flowing, thick and fresh, from her mouth and belly, soaking that exotic, provocative dress.
Her legs were spread, a thick black collar fastened to a chain that disappeared into Lake Zurich.
The body, motionless, was an anchor.

Both of them ran out; police, ambulances—chaos everywhere.

“LUCAS!!” Valentina shouted.

Valentina ran into Lucas’s arms; he could sense the almost nonexistent essence left in her. He wanted to comfort her, but something no longer felt right.

The situation began to turn into a media spectacle, becoming a merciless circus. A perfect feast for scavengers of ratings.

Valentina wanted to go with Lucas, to talk to him, but he refused. His mind was fragmented; he began to feel stabbing pains in his temple under the pressure of the moment.

“Valentina, isn’t Alex on his way to your house?” Raffael said.

Alex looked curiously at Raffael before confirming the statement. Valentina agreed, and the four of them decided to walk until they were as far from the venue as possible.

The first taxi to arrive was for Valentina and Alex. Then a second taxi pulled up.

“This one’s mine,” Lucas said.
“I’m coming with you,” Raffael replied.

For a moment, Lucas hesitated, but chose to remain silent. The driver set off.

Silence. Neither of them spoke for almost the entire ride. There was nothing good or bad to say after what they had seen. Only abstract thoughts about human existence lingered.

When they reached Lucas’s apartment building, they said goodbye for the first time in a polite, quick way.

“Talk later,” Raffael said.

Before entering the building, Lucas took a deep, sharp breath, clenched his fists, then opened them, his gaze momentarily lost on some distant point.

Someone opened the door from the other side.

“Good evening.”
“Hello? Where’s the concierge?” Lucas asked.
“Oh, he quit. Lately he hadn’t been feeling well, and apparently a neighbor said something to him… and he just couldn’t take it anymore.”

Chapter Text

You are listening to Wrong by Depeche Mode on the late-night frequency of Radio 101 Zürich.

That sensation that rises through the body when the chemical and the visceral conspire against you: the brain on alert, the stomach churning, and that inner voice insisting on reminding you of everything you refuse to admit.

It had been almost two weeks since the hostess’s death. Lucas decided to bury himself in work and in Andrea, as if that routine could anesthetize the inevitable.

The feeling of guilt translated into hesitant actions about what was considered right or wrong.
The moments of amnesia that dragged on and the cold facts of loneliness that tormented him.

From home to work, from work to the supermarket and back home again, over and over. His routine was the perfect loop, without detours, where his fears began to surface uninvited.

Phone call
“Darling, I’m on my way to pick you up, wait for me,” Andrea said cheerfully.
“NO!… I’m about to close,” Lucas replied.

He decided to stay silent about the descriptive scene he had witnessed that night; it was a shared secret he no longer wished to keep, yet he feared speaking it aloud. Thinking about the other person’s reaction and what they might think only made him nervous and sick.

Wherever he went, he looked in every direction and listened closely to the sound of cart wheels rolling through the supermarket aisles. He observed the stares of strangers, inspecting who might be alpha, omega, or beta in search of clues.

He thought only of protecting what he loved most, no matter the cost, and of never letting the light in those eyes go out.

Many people are not good at reading body language. But it was obvious when someone with such an alluring smile couldn’t stop rubbing their face, cracking their neck, complaining about the metallic taste in their mouth, and fidgeting with their hands as if they itched.

The loop of habits remained perfect and precise, and the sex came in quantities necessary—verging on excessive.

“Why are you so paranoid?”
“You’re exaggerating,” Lucas replied, rubbing the back of Andrea’s neck.
“You know you can trust me, right?…”

Andrea couldn’t leave; Lucas felt he couldn’t go on without him. He didn’t want to feel that loneliness again, that emptiness and grief. He came up with countless excuses to avoid questions and, among them all, offered the most absurd:

“I’m anxious because your rut hasn’t come. You’re not pregnant, are you?” Lucas asked.

Andrea froze in shock, having never considered the possibility. At first, he denied it completely.
It was true they had been together a few months, but that possibility was impossible. He began checking his schedule; he couldn’t remember the last time they’d used protection.

Andrea’s doubtful look gave Lucas a moment of relief, but that small lie made him consider the storm he had unleashed without intending harm.

Andrea suggested returning to Italy to visit his primary doctor, but Lucas refused; after all, he was under his protection now.

They scheduled an appointment as soon as possible. In a few days, Andrea would be officially listed as Lucas’s partner on state documents and would therefore receive all sorts of benefits not everyone could aspire to.

Wchat
“We need to talk, do you have time today?” Raffael.

That message made his heart race; it felt like the salt on a shot of tequila that only intensifies the final flavor.

Lucas agreed to meet Raffael in a place far from his job; he wanted no interruptions, but neither did he want doubts about his fidelity.

It was Thursday; once again the week had rushed by. The streets showed a dark bluish hue, people bundled up in heavier coats, yet there was still time to relax by the lake.

A small coffee stand, quite popular in the area. A calming view, and together with the seasonal wind, it created the perfect formula to soothe fears and secrets.

“How did you get my number?” Lucas asked, stirring his coffee.
“You’re on the Internet…” Raffael replied, crossing his legs.

The same scene that had occurred in the taxi unfolded there as well: uncomfortable silences, eyes wandering in different directions, restless legs.

But the silence was outside of reality…

You are on Radio 101. We interrupt the broadcast for a public service announcement: the police are still pursuing “The Hunter.” Witnesses are asked to come forward and give their statements after various leads have been received. And now, the song of the week: “Wrong,” by Depeche Mode.

Silence. They had been having nightmares lately, trouble eating, and other classic symptoms of a post-trauma state that stirred nameless sensations.

“Did you tell your omega?” Raffael asked.
“No,” Lucas replied.

“Have you spoken with Valentina?” Raffael asked again.
“No,” Lucas replied.

It was a conversation not exactly short, but empty: deep breaths, glances that wanted to meet and understand only to turn away, and a walk around the lake with the echo of footsteps—until Raffael spoke again:

“Her name was Donna. They found that she gave off a scent similar to a beta in heat, although… she also had an alpha bite on the back of her neck.”

In the end, each returned the way they had come, to continue their routines with the promise of meeting again for another coffee. Perhaps a second time would help loosen something sealed under pressure.

The following week

Habits had changed: the food, the daily schedule, outings, arguments, clothing, and conversations.

They both arrived at the hospital; it was not located in the area where they lived. It was downtown, and the entrances varied according to each person’s phenotype.

The omegas’ entrance was different from the betas’, but slightly similar to the alphas’. Immaculate white walls, warm-lit signs, and elegant dark-green announcements. Staff smiling all the time, with flawless skin.

At reception, the nurse asked them to wait for their turn. A waiting room with more than half the seats occupied by couples many months into gestation, along with a Lucas who couldn’t stop opening and closing his legs in desperation.

Their turn came; a very kind doctor attended to them. Fortunately for Andrea, he spoke English. He began describing each of his symptoms, the missing rut, but also the idea that it was all due to stress.

“Stop biting your nails, you’re making me tense,” Andrea said.

Andrea began complaining to the doctor; according to him, Lucas was a very nervous and paranoid person and needed someone more secure, so he considered it impossible for Andrea to be pregnant under such pressure.

The doctor began to laugh; he was used to this type of young couple. He proposed three different tests.

They began with a *transcapvictorial ultrasound to check for any type of gestation or anomaly. The doctor found nothing: it could not be determined whether an embryo was forming, but he confirmed that the uterus was in perfect condition.

Next came a blood test, the results of which would be ready in a couple of days, and finally, a pheromone test.

The doctor explained that in many alpha–omega couples, delays in the rut could be due to mental factors. This caused pheromones to clash with each other because of the high exposure load, so various pheromonal exposure tests would be performed to see if this was the case.

“Doctor, I’m a beta, this isn’t our case,” Lucas said.
“Oh, I thought you were an alpha because of your height,” the doctor replied, laughing.

After that, Lucas mentioned that the third test wasn’t necessary, but the doctor disagreed. He recommended that when they had the results, they could verify whether the problem was a possible pregnancy or perhaps a lack of alpha pheromones.

Lucas smiled politely; there wasn’t much he could say at that moment. After all, as he had been told before, doctors are always right.

Leaving the hospital, Andrea began praising how comfortable they had made him feel and how possibly, after seeing those blood tests, they could finally know what was happening to him.

In a certain way, Andrea began rubbing his belly and biting his lips, from which a faint smile emerged. He sought Lucas’s gaze and pulled his hand so he would touch it as well. A baby crossed both their minds.

Lucas gently removed his hand from Andrea’s belly to caress his cheek; it was something he still hadn’t fully considered.
They were supposed to be careful, so in part he was sure it was impossible for Andrea to be pregnant, and while his mind began to spin, a familiar voice broke through.

“Lucas? What are you doing on this side?” a woman said.
“Maria?” Lucas replied in surprise.

Chapter Text

“Who else would it be?” Maria said.

There wasn’t much of an age gap between them; Lucas was the older of the two. As part of a mixed family, she was the one who carried a different phenotype, though with some restrictions.

At first, Andrea kept quiet, unable to understand the language, but Maria didn’t take long to lock her eyes on him. Not only that, she also asked Lucas the reason for his visit to the omega area.

Maria was genuinely surprised. When Andrea shook her hand, she felt a spark of electricity flare in her chest and, instinctively, stepped back.
Pheromones. Heavy, unmistakable, and, above all, sweet.

Lucas didn’t fully understand what was happening at first, but he quickly guessed it had something to do with the pheromones. He hadn’t visited his sister in weeks, and even less had he told her about Andrea.

“So, what are you two doing here?” Maria asked.

Andrea answered before Lucas could even speak.
“A routine checkup,” he said.
Lucas just smiled and added nothing to Andrea’s explanation.

“It’s been a pleasure… Lucas, call our mothers. I’m sure they’ll want to meet Andrea.”

Once Maria left, Lucas suggested they head to his shop. He needed to open up; sales were down, and he couldn’t afford to skip a day.

“Nooo, just for today, please? I want to go home and watch a movie with you,” Andrea said, pouting.

Lucas could never say no to Andrea’s faces. At first, he felt like he was forgetting something, but when Andrea hugged him from behind, his thoughts shifted quickly, leaving only happiness.

The day went by normally; they watched movies all afternoon, made love once more, and when it was almost six in the evening, Lucas received a call.

*“Smith here, good afternoon. I’ve been waiting for thirty minutes for the brake package I ordered, but I see no one has opened the shop or even contacted me.”

He had completely forgotten. Lucas hadn’t remembered that he had a delivery scheduled for that day. Embarrassment flooded him and, while apologizing over the phone, he told the client he was on his way to the store.

The client refused, raising his voice and saying how disappointed he was. He was a loyal customer, but his greatest discomfort was that no one had warned him out of courtesy. In the end, Lucas offered to send the parts by mail.

That feeling of stress invaded him again; a slight stab pulsed in his stomach as a consequence of what had happened.

“Darling, relax, these things happen,” Andrea said, rubbing his back.

Lucas wanted to argue. He told Andrea that this kind of thing had never happened to him before, that he wasn’t like this. But Andrea interrupted him with a kiss, sliding his hands across Lucas’s chest, up to his neck, and licking his ear.

“Relax, there’s a first time for everything. Want to play again?” Andrea whispered, biting Lucas’s ear.

Lucas let himself go the entire night and, between pauses, Andrea prepared the vitamins he had brought with him from Italy. Always so punctual, always a fan of the rules. Sometimes it seemed as if he were the real Swiss one.

The following week arrived, bringing complaints, surprises, and above all the pressure to do the right thing despite not being ready.

Lucas’s mothers had made a fuss: they couldn’t understand how their son hadn’t trusted them enough to tell them he was seeing someone. They might have understood if it were just a fling, but this was not the case.

A meeting was arranged at their house in the city of Bern. Upon arrival, Andrea was reminded a little of his own home. The air itself felt welcoming: the relaxing scent of incense, flowers in every corner, photos everywhere.

But most of all, it was the warmth of Lucas’s mothers as they greeted him with their brightest smiles.

They looked so much like Lucas. The eyes, the poise; it was as if he had inherited the best of each of them, but above all, that sincere, warm aura.

A barbecue was prepared in his honor; it was the first time Andrea had ever felt so welcomed. They showed him every corner of the house, and every chance they got, they hugged him as if he were already part of the family.

After lunch, they decided to take a typical walk through the forest behind the house, “to help the food settle,” as they said. For a moment, Andrea felt a pang of envy: the love, the trust, the easy complicity between Lucas’s mothers was impossible to miss.

He thought about how he wanted something like that when he reached their age. He never let go of Lucas’s hand, rubbing his fingers over it, squeezing it at times, and bumping his body playfully against his to tease him.

“Well then, you’re staying the night, aren’t you?” one of Lucas’s moms asked.

They couldn’t say no; after all, Lucas had already been scolded repeatedly for not keeping in touch. And his sister would arrive the next morning for breakfast.

Breakfast was equally pleasant; the table overflowed with cheeses, fruit, homemade bread, cold cuts, and more, all to make Andrea feel at home.

Any tension that might have lingered in the air quickly disappeared. Lucas was completely ignored. Both his mothers and his sister were enchanted by Andrea, and whenever they remembered something, they dug out old photos to show him.

“Andrea, everything okay with the doctor?” Maria asked, touching Andrea’s hands.
“Has anyone ever told you how nosy you are? Spill it,” Lucas said, tugging Maria’s hair.

According to Lucas’s mothers, those two argued whenever they had the chance. They were like cats and dogs.

Andrea grew nervous, unsure how to react; he worried he might have done something wrong. Meanwhile, Lucas’s constant leg movement only made him more tense.

“Stop moving your legs like that. Does your ass itch or what?” Maria said, giving Lucas a playful smack on the legs.

Lucas’s mothers burst out laughing, then took Andrea to their garden to show him everything they were growing and told him to relax. In thanks for their kindness, Andrea offered to cook for them the next time they visited.

It was curious: of the two mothers, Lucas’s alpha mom was the most outgoing, the one who shared the most anecdotes and answered all of Andrea’s questions. His beta mom, though also kind, was a bit more reserved.

Before they left, the alpha mom decided to prepare a cake for them to take along with leftovers from the previous day. They had cooked so much that they hadn’t measured anything, so the beta mom suggested:

“Lucas, why don’t you take some to Valentina? By the way, how is she?”

It had been a while since he’d heard any news about Valentina. Remembering that the last time they spoke was the night of the party sent a sudden shiver down his spine, making him jump like a reflex.

At that moment, Andrea interrupted the conversation, mentioning that it had been a couple of weeks since they last saw her, but surely it was because she had a new job and was probably very busy.

Both of Lucas’s mothers smiled brightly, delighted to know that Andrea and Valentina had already met.

Lucas’s sister offered to drive them, since they were a bit far from the train station. On the way, she apologized for not being able to introduce her partner; she wanted Andrea to meet him, because, as she said, Andrea was now part of the family.

Taking the train back was the best way to avoid Zürich’s night traffic. Both were visibly tired; when they reached the building, the new concierge opened the door for them, and Lucas, absentmindedly, walked straight past.

Once inside the apartment, they collapsed on the couch and quickly fell asleep.

Maybe two hours passed before a phone began to ring. Andrea jolted awake, thinking it was an alarm, and when he found it, he realized it was a call.

“Hello? Sorry, Lucas fell asleep,” Andrea said, apologizing.
“Oh, dear, I just called because you forgot Valentina’s Tupperware,” said Lucas’s beta mom.

Chapter Text

Phone Call
“How much longer do I have to wait? I know it hasn’t been that long, but the changes are minimal.”
“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” someone replied.
“Of course not. On the contrary, I feel like I should be more aggressive. Do you have anything else I can use?”

Monday, November 8

A new week, a new stress. Valentina decided to focus only on work and on her relationship. She knew Lucas was ignoring her, but she couldn’t simply interfere.
Go to the office, focus on work, come home, and text Bastian. She needed a routine; she was the kind of person who, without order, would try to do everything at once until she collapsed.

She intended to make herself a coffee, so she headed toward the kitchen. But before entering, she could hear some loud murmurs:

“Have you heard the latest news about the hunter?” asked an executive.
“Yesss, I think it’s true. Apparently that alpha was part of a cult; according to the news, there was a secret club involved,” replied one of the creatives.
“I doubt it was a cult; it was probably revenge from some omega in heat. Besides, that alpha smelled like a beta in heat too,” said another creative.

Valentina turned around. Sometimes her face revealed too easily what she was thinking, so it was best to leave the coffee for another time.
She didn’t want anyone to find out she had been at that party and start asking a thousand questions. Worse yet, what if she accidentally let slip that she had met that alpha?. 

The afternoon came, and with it, the final meeting for the new client’s event. She was exhausted and needed caffeine, so she decided to head down to the kitchen.

“Boo! Haha, did I scare you?” asked the HR assistant.
“Nooo, just a little.”
“Valentina, I need the dates for your partner’s next rut,” said the assistant.

She didn’t quite understand what she had just heard; she froze for a moment, or rather, she didn’t know why she was supposed to give that information.
That kind of question was far too personal, and out of discomfort, her face showed exactly what she was thinking, her eyes wide, a hard look, and a faint grimace of disgust.

The HR assistant noticed Valentina’s reaction, quickly apologized, and began to explain the reason.
Valentina also apologized; she hadn’t meant to come off rude, so she said she’d check and send the dates later. Before leaving, the assistant pointed her to a website she had to read:

Ministry of Labor
In accordance with current regulations, it is established that any citizen of beta caste who maintains a relationship with a person belonging to a special caste must report such a situation through the Human Resources Department or the employer’s representative, in order to process the corresponding Special Rest Certificate and ensure compliance with inter-caste coexistence regulations.

If false information or concealment is verified, the responsible party may be sanctioned with up to five (5) years of imprisonment, as provided by law.

Likewise, if a beta citizen fails to comply with the duty to report and commits work-related misconduct linked to their condition, the administrative sanctions will be at the discretion of the company or employing entity.

Valentina was surprised; she had no idea such a law existed, but she had to stop reading and head to her meeting.
After two hours, everything was ready to present to the client. When she stood up, she noticed it was already the end of the workday and hurried back to her desk.

She found herself thinking about the fact that she didn’t even know Bastian’s rut dates; after all, it had only happened once. She wasn’t even preparing for the next one, nor had she gone to the doctor to know what precautions to take.

The questions kept coming: Was Bastian regular? Were all ruts the same? What would happen if he didn’t release during one? Would he ever need to see an alpha?

She had to call him; the innocent questions had turned into anxious ones.
She cleaned her desk, shut down her computer, and headed to the parking lot. Just before starting the car, her phone rang.

“Miss Bischoff, sorry for the delay in answering. When do you have time for a meeting?”

It was the lawyer. She had forgotten she’d written to him two weeks ago or maybe a little more so the call caught her by surprise.

While checking her schedule, she thought meeting him might be a bad idea. She had no intention of destroying Erick; it had been a simple outburst of anger, and that possible trial could have consequences for better or for worse.

But as someone had once told her, “Every cloud has a silver lining.”

She arranged to meet the lawyer over the weekend to talk things through calmly. On her way home, she called Bastian to tell him about the lawyer and a few other things.

“Funny, I was just thinking about you. I want to see you,” said Bastian.

Valentina felt her heart lift at those words; after all, she missed him too. It had been a month, maybe a little more, since they last saw each other.

When she got home, she wasn’t sure what to do—cook, shower, or none of the above. Mondays were always so heavy, slow, and above all, dull.

As every night before going to sleep, she called Bastian again to wish him goodnight. That’s when she remembered she still hadn’t asked him about his rut.

“Bastian, could you tell me your rut dates?”
“Why? That little head of yours isn’t still haunted by the ghost of pregnancy, is it?” he replied, laughing.

She stared at her phone screen in disbelief. Valentina thought that tone—or rather, those words—were a bit hurtful, maybe even stupid. The comment made her feel as if he saw her as someone dumb just for asking a simple question.

For a few seconds, she stayed silent. She didn’t know what to say; she didn’t want to start an argument. Bastian noticed he’d gone too far and quickly added:

“I’m sorry, it was just a joke. Do you want to keep track so you can be prepared?”

The tone of the call shifted immediately. Valentina softened her thoughts about Bastian’s behavior when she heard his apology, which she considered sincere.
When she hung up, for some strange reason, she felt a weight pressing against her chest.

Thursday, November 11

In other news, as almost a month has passed since the tragic accident that claimed a life, the police report having found new leads about the possible perpetrator. Citizens with relevant information are urged to contact the nearest police station.

“Every single broadcast. Don’t they ever have anything more interesting?” Andrea complained.

It was the day they would receive Andrea’s blood test results. The doctor had sent an email requesting both of them to come in, as there were still a few questions left from the initial consultation.

While Andrea finished getting dressed, Lucas paced around the living room. He told her they’d take a taxi. He couldn’t stop thinking that maybe his lie could actually become real.

In the taxi, Lucas focused on watching the traffic the entire ride. He didn’t want to look at Andrea; her eyes might reveal how tense he really was.

“Excuse me, could you turn on the radio?” Andrea asked.

Voice over:
Before we close this news segment, we’ve received a breaking report.
A beta woman, visibly pregnant, has been reported missing.
According to witnesses, she was wearing a red dress and has a snake-shaped tattoo on her shoulder.
Anyone with relevant information is encouraged to contact the authorities through our official channels.

Saturday, November 13

The week went by incredibly fast, in the blink of an eye. It was 11 a.m., and Valentina was getting ready to meet the lawyer.

Before leaving, someone rang her doorbell. It was a flower delivery. She was surprised, she hadn’t ordered anything. It was a bouquet of jasmines and white roses, their scent exquisite. When she looked at the note to see who they were from, she read:

You’re my everything. I promise I’ll never talk to you that way again. Forgive me? I love you. —Bastian.

After reading the note, Valentina burst out laughing nervously. No one had ever given her flowers as an apology before. It was the first time someone seemed to care that much about her.

She placed the flowers in a vase and headed to the Spanish café near Stadelhofen. It was best for both of them to meet somewhere neither of them usually went, so they wouldn’t draw curious looks.

The lawyer was not as old as she remembered. He had good taste in clothes—simple, yet refined.

“Mr. Prötzell,” said Valentina, shaking his hand.
“Please, call me Steffan,” he replied.

This would be the first of many meetings. Building trust between them was essential; they couldn’t afford to falter.

What was meant to be a brief conversation stretched into almost three hours. Valentina got to know the alpha with the slanted eyes a little better.
The conversation flowed naturally; they found they had several things in common.

They decided to walk to the lake to keep talking, until, at some point, he said:

“You’re quite entertaining for a beta. Don’t take it the wrong way, but Bastian’s other ex-betas were rather dull.”

Chapter Text

Tick, tock. Tick, tock...

The pieces of this heart, of these lies, drag nothing but penance upon me and upon you.
The feeling of knowing I have sinned, and the sorrow of those who once trusted me, only make me feel, with each passing day, more omnipotent.

Chapter Text

“Why are you walking so slow?” Andrea asked, tugging on Lucas’s hand.

Andrea’s excitement was easy to see. Everyone who crossed their path could notice the bright smile on his face and feel the vanilla-scented pheromones in the air, along with the sparkle in his eyes. An almost angelic aura surrounded him.

When they arrived at the hospital, they waited for their turn. Andrea didn’t seem nervous at all, but he went to the bathroom every five minutes, which only made Lucas more tense.

“You didn’t take your vitamins yesterday, did you? Take them now,” Andrea said.

The truth was, they were both nervous—one more excited than the other—each secretly hoping that maybe, little by little, one of their greatest wishes might actually come true.

After waiting for nearly an hour, they were finally called in by the doctor. Once inside, he began speaking in a friendly tone, asking how they both were. That much familiarity felt strange to Lucas, but Andrea spoke first, asking the big question that might force them to rearrange their future.

“Am I pregnant?” Andrea asked, smiling brightly.
“I’m sorry to say no,” the doctor replied seriously.

A brief silence followed. It wasn’t a satisfying answer.
The mood in the examination room shifted—it went from invisibly radiant to grayish, with a faint bitterness lingering in the air.

“Doctor, then why did we both have to come?” Lucas asked, squeezing Andrea’s hand.

The doctor seemed surprised by Lucas’s slightly cold tone, but he had to explain what was going on.

There were suspicions of a hormonal issue, and that was likely the reason Andrea’s rut hadn’t arrived. It could even cause poisoning in his body, since he couldn’t release it due to the blockage.

The doctor kept explaining at first in a mechanical, almost scientific way, until Lucas interrupted him.

The doctor grew uncomfortable—or at least that’s what Lucas perceived—because he wasn’t being entirely direct. But before Lucas could interrupt again, the doctor finally said:

“It’s likely due to a lack of alpha pheromones.”

Lucas knew he’d hear those words sooner or later. Since childhood, he’d been told that an alpha and an omega were born to be together, and that if they weren’t, both would eventually die.

A few seconds of awkward silence passed before a nurse entered. She immediately sensed something was wrong and spoke first:

“Mr. Esposito, we’ll need to run a few more tests. Do you have time today?”

Andrea agreed without hesitation. He looked at Lucas kindly, almost condescendingly, as if to reassure him that it wasn’t serious—that it would all be resolved somehow.

Only Lucas remained in the office with the doctor. When he tried to stand and leave for the waiting room, the doctor stopped him.

“We’ll need to run some tests on you as well,” the doctor said, avoiding his eyes.

The request was strange. This wasn’t a beta-designated area, and there was no reason for him to undergo those kinds of exams. Nothing in his routine had changed—it wasn’t as if he were magically responsible for Andrea’s rut blockage.

Lucas had no choice but to accept. Another nurse arrived to draw his blood first and then escorted him to a special area, where she explained that the test was meant to analyze his pheromone reactivity.

They went up a couple of floors to the designated section. It was empty—only a single door could be seen at the very end of the corridor.

When Lucas entered, he found Andrea there. He was flushed red, sweating, and for some strange reason, his eyes had changed color—they were no longer hazel but blue.

The nurse asked him to step into a special room, but Lucas refused. He didn’t want to leave Andrea alone; something was off, though he couldn’t tell what.

“My love, it’s fine. I’m just a bit agitated,” Andrea said, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

It was a large room, decorated with a few oil paintings and a big L-shaped black leather sofa pressed against the wall. Anyone could have mistaken it for a Gesell chamber, given the wide observation window on one side.

The nurse spoke through a speaker: he was to sit on the sofa, relax, and raise his right hand if he felt anything unusual.

Five minutes passed. Then ten. Nothing changed. Lucas didn’t understand what was happening. He tried to see or smell something, but there was nothing. The nurse asked him five times if he had noticed anything, and each time, the answer was the same: “No.”

For the sixth time, she asked again,
“Mr. Schmidtt, do you smell anything?”

Lucas inhaled deeply—and then he caught it: vanilla.
He began breathing faster, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder, feeling a wave of sweat form across his forehead.

He raised his right hand, and immediately a faint alcohol-like scent filled the room. His erection came suddenly; he couldn’t stop biting his lips or fidgeting with his fingers inside his pocket.

The nurse opened the door, but Lucas bolted out without listening to her. He started searching for Andrea. His thoughts were chaotic.

“Please, both of you come into this room,” the nurse said, placing a hand on Andrea’s shoulder.

Lucas glared at her with fury, as if he could devour her for touching what was his, but she only smiled in response.

Andrea pulled Lucas into the room they’d been assigned. It was a release chamber, equipped with a sofa, a bed, and a shower.

Neither of them cared if they were being watched—they simply gave in to their instincts.

They began kissing. Lucas felt the overwhelming urge to lick Andrea’s neck, to mark him deeply on the nape. Andrea started trembling with need, and soon the entire room filled with his scent; Lucas could smell him completely.

Andrea ended up pinned against the wall, his hands restrained by Lucas. At first there were soft sighs from both, until Andrea let out a faint cry when he felt Lucas bite into his gland.

Lucas released one of his hands to unbutton his own pants. He rubbed against him, and in desperation, pulled down Andrea’s trousers to touch and open him—and then, without mercy, he thrust inside.

A second cry echoed through the room.
“You’re so wet,” Lucas growled, hitting the wall.
“It’s because of you,” Andrea moaned, licking Lucas’s left hand.

After two rounds on that sofa and a third one in the shower, they finally decided to leave the room.

Outside, it was empty. Only a small table stood there with pheromone neutralizers and diffusers.

They both felt ashamed of how public their behavior had been—but also deeply desperate.
They went back down to the consultation floor, where a nurse informed them that their results would be sent by mail.

Three Days Later

With the change in weather and the cold growing more constant each day, the shop had started to recover.

Lucas felt happy; little by little, he was getting back to his routine and seeing the results of his hard work again. It was one of the best times of the year, thanks to the influx of tourists coming to the Alps.

A couple of hours before closing, two customers stopped by—friends he hadn’t seen in a long time since they’d been abroad.

They talked for a while, fixed a few things on their bikes, and placed some orders. But Lucas could sense that, for some reason, they wanted to ask something.

“Is something wrong? You both seem a little uneasy,” Lucas asked.

The man spoke first, apologizing and saying it was nothing—on the contrary, they were happy to see Lucas open again as usual.
The woman agreed, adding that his shop was one of the few in the area with such a wide range of motorcycle parts, and it would be a shame if he ever closed it.

Lucas smiled, grateful for the compliments, though they felt a little excessive. Still, he didn’t think much of it—it just felt like polite conversation.

When closing time finally came, and he was about to leave, he suddenly caught a familiar, sweet scent that intensified in the air: Andrea.

Once inside the shop, both fell silent.
They exchanged glances and soft smiles. The faint sound of steps closing in on prey.
A finger traced slowly upward from the center of Lucas’s chest to his lips.

That same hand shifted direction, sliding up to cup his ear and then the back of his neck.
A body drew closer, close enough to hear how fast a heart was beating—for him—and how their breathing began to quicken.

Another hand pulled Andrea closer until there wasn’t a single inch left between them.
Kisses landed on the omega’s forehead, trailing slowly down to his Adam’s apple—then stopping for a heartbeat, only to tear his shirt open in desperation, buttons flying everywhere.

Soft sighs, almost inaudible whispers begging to be taken without prelude.

Both of them fell to the floor, laughing, before kissing again—tongues meeting fiercely, tangling together, releasing muffled, breathless moans.

A beta looking down solemnly, reverently, with all the love in the world—his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst from his chest, from the happiness and the raw desire overwhelming him—until he whispered to the man beneath him something he never thought he’d say again:

“I love you. I’m in love with you. Stay with me forever.”

What began gently, between two lovers, soon turned rough—sex without mercy.
Two naked bodies intertwined, and when a phone started ringing, there was no sound in the world powerful enough to separate them.

Chapter Text

Each day grew colder, wetter. The wind blew so fiercely that no one wanted to leave their homes, yet there were obligations to fulfill.
The country, in the eyes of the world, was seen as prosperous — but at the end of the day, those who didn’t work, didn’t eat.

Wednesday, November 14

Andrea paced through the apartment. Lucas had gone to work, so he stayed behind, catching up on a few chronicles and articles for different magazines.
His editor was thrilled that he was in Switzerland — everything about the country’s social structure fascinated him.

When eleven o’clock came, Andrea rushed downstairs to the first floor to check his mailbox, hoping the letter with their results had arrived.
His biggest concern was the doctor’s earlier comment — that subtle suggestion about alpha pheromones.

When he opened the mailbox, the letters were already there. He didn’t think twice and, without going back upstairs, tore them open.
He read both — the ones addressed to him and to Lucas. He hesitated at what he was reading, but when he finished, he felt surprisingly calm.

Dear Mr. Schmidtt:
We are sending you the results of your medical tests. Please contact your attending physician as soon as possible.

Sex: Male  Phenotype: Beta  Age: 32  Base scent: Tuberose

Blood test results fall within your age range, though there are mild elevations in thyroid, liver, testosterone, and cortisol values, compatible with hormonal overstimulation or prolonged stress.

In the pheromone chamber test, the response was normal: no reactivity to Alpha or Omega pheromones of grades 1, 2, or 3, except for a marked sensitivity toward compounds matching your current partner.

Psychological evaluation is recommended to rule out possible affective-chemical dependence or a conditioned neuroendocrine reaction.

Sincerely,
Hospital Zürich II

He thought about going to see Lucas to tell him about the results but decided against it.
What he’d read wasn’t serious — it seemed like something simple, something that could be treated with the right medication.

He took advantage of the quiet to finish writing a new article focused on the cultural roots connecting the canton of Ticino and Italy, and the deep historical bond between both regions.

Afterward, he tidied up the apartment — did laundry, cooked dinner.
He was in a good mood: he had work, love, and both of them were healthy. Everything was going well.

When seven o’clock came, Lucas arrived home. Andrea had fallen asleep on the sofa waiting for him.
Lucas didn’t wake him; he looked exhausted — not only from working but also from supporting him in everything.

He headed to the kitchen, starving — and that’s where he saw the opened envelopes.
The first one he read was Andrea’s:

“The analyses suggest hypofunction of the posterior cervical pheromonal gland, probably due to a deficit of alpha stimulation and low levels of activating pheromones.”

“Andrea, wake up,” Lucas said, kneeling beside him.

Andrea woke up, startled, seeing Lucas kneeling with tears streaming down his face. He could hear him blaming himself for something, but he didn’t understand why.

“Why didn’t you call me? Did you read your results?” Lucas asked, rubbing Andrea’s legs.

Andrea’s first reaction was to hug him. Seeing Lucas’s red, tear-streaked face, he held him close and told him not to exaggerate — that it wasn’t that bad.
There was no reason to panic, and certainly no one to blame.

Lucas refused. He blamed himself, saying that if he were an alpha, Andrea wouldn’t be going through this. For a moment, he said nothing — as if the rain outside could express the depth of his guilt — before finally admitting aloud that he felt responsible for Andrea’s blocked rut.

He apologized over and over, saying he didn’t know how to help.

“My love, it’s okay. I’m more worried about you than about me,” Andrea said softly, wiping Lucas’s tears.

Lucas still hadn’t read his own results, and hearing Andrea’s words surprised him.
He felt uneasy. He hadn’t expected to see any mention of psychiatric evaluation.

He had nothing against psychologists or mental health professionals, but the results unsettled him.
He started to wonder: Could this be why I sometimes wake up dizzy? Or restless?
But… dependence?

Andrea brought him back from his thoughts, telling him that for now they should focus on him first — and later, they could deal with whatever was going on with Lucas.

“I need to check which psychologists are available,” Lucas said.
“I already did. In fact, I booked the appointment,” Andrea replied with a smile.

Lucas felt slightly uncomfortable. He hadn’t arranged anything, hadn’t even been asked if he wanted to go.
He understood that Andrea was worried, but everything felt like it was moving too fast.

“Lucas, don’t make that face. I did it because I care about you. Forgive me?” Andrea said, hugging him tightly.

A long, heavy sigh filled the room.
Now that Andrea had confessed his feelings completely — and had, in so many words, asked him to become a family — Lucas knew there would be things he’d have to let him handle, and he’d have to adapt for both their sakes.

A Week Later

The clinical psychology department informs that the next stress management workshop will take place on Thursday at 3 p.m. in Room 2. Please remember that mobile phone use is restricted in all evaluation areas.

Lucas and Andrea arrived at the nearest clinic to their home.
These centers were located outside hospital grounds, so it was important to choose the right one.

“I’m nervous,” Lucas admitted.

He had to close his shop to make the appointment, but this time he left a sign on the door and made sure he had no pending orders.
He didn’t want to repeat old mistakes.

“Good afternoon, I’m Dr. Kamla. How can I help you?”

Lucas started talking, but midway through, he froze.
His mind swirled with old phrases he’d heard as a teenager — that psychologists were “for crazy people.”

Andrea, who had also entered the session, decided to speak for him.
He began explaining to the psychologist the reason for their visit.

The doctor listened attentively, took a few notes on her clipboard, and then said:

“Thank you for the information. I’ve already been in contact with your attending physician and have your lab results. Just one clarification: I’ll provide support during some parts of the assessment, but a referral to psychiatry will be necessary, as medication might be required. Also, all sessions must be held privately — for confidentiality reasons, only the patient may enter.”

Andrea smiled and simply replied that he understood.
He hadn’t considered that Lucas might need to attend alone, though it worried him — sometimes Lucas forgot things or froze when speaking.

Lucas said nothing. Instead, he looked away as the doctor spoke.

The session was brief and to the point. Lucas was advised to attend once a week.
Since Andrea had scheduled the appointment in advance and the clinic already had his blood results, he was referred to psychiatry that same day.

They had about an hour to wait, so they went to a small café nearby to grab something to eat.

“I don’t like the psychologist. What if we change her?” Andrea asked.
“It was just the first session,” Lucas replied while paying the bill.

He was right, though Andrea still felt slightly uncomfortable.

When they returned, before entering the psychiatrist’s office, Andrea asked if he could also come in.
The doctor agreed but mentioned it would only be allowed for this first session — after that, all would have to remain private, doctor–patient only.

The psychiatrist, like the psychologist, had already reviewed Lucas’s results.
He explained that some additional tests would be necessary and that in the meantime, Lucas should continue working with his psychologist.

Lucas began bouncing his leg nervously as they talked. He kept rolling his neck from side to side, fidgeting.
Andrea noticed and placed his hand on Lucas’s leg to calm him. Immediately, Lucas stopped.

By the end of the session, the doctor prescribed a few natural relaxants and told him to come back in two weeks for the first evaluation test.

“Ahh, I’m tired. Well, let’s find a pharmacy,” Lucas sighed.
“No, let’s go home. I’m proud of you. I’ll pick up your medication tomorrow,” Andrea said, squeezing his hand.

Chapter Text

Sound of sirens

Luciana Muñoz, mother of one and an employee at a hotel, lost her life when an unknown man opened fire inside the train she was taking home. She had bought a cake to celebrate her birthday; she never imagined that day would be her last.

God, how many are dead now? Four? someone on the street asked.
Do you think it’s the hunter? another replied.

It was the last week of November. The eastern winds blew hard, and with them came an unmistakable scent of cadaverine.

Valentina was under extreme stress. The bidding deadline was approaching, and the final preparations for the water event were piling up. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t focus.

Too many questions haunted her. She wanted to ask Bastian so many things. He still hadn’t confirmed when he would visit, but she needed to get rid of that one nagging doubt: Did he really only date betas?

She didn’t think it was wrong — everyone had their preferences — but something inside her whispered that there was something off about it. She tried to distract herself, to push those thoughts out of her head.

Wchat
Valentina, good afternoon. Do you have time this weekend? We need to close a few points on the Bruness lawsuit.

The cherry on top: the lawsuit. The day of the event, Valentina had thought they’d go straight to trial, but it wasn’t that simple; there were still steps to follow. First came conciliation.

She had to send a notarial letter, presenting solid evidence and informing the judge of her intention to reach an agreement before proceeding with the lawsuit. In short, there would be consequences: she and Erick would have to see each other again.

She pulled her hands away from the keyboard, telling herself she just needed a break — but inside her, a phrase she’d once heard kept echoing, tormenting her: Betas smell fucking amazing when they're aroused.

She thought about calling Lucas. They hadn’t spoken in two weeks. She went to the bathroom for the fifth time, and when she sat back down at her desk, the reflection of the monitor made her eyes ache.

She missed him. She wanted to see him again, to hold him, to have a place where she could just be herself — where no one judged her for her paranoia.

She knew his shop was still open. But there was a ninety percent chance Andrea was there too, and she had no intention of facing both of them. She just wanted to see her best friend.

Her phone rang again. She thought it was the lawyer insisting, but no — it was a notification from Instagram. Friend suggestion: Bastian Ricco.

Seeing the notification, she realized they didn’t even follow each other on social media. It was odd; she hadn’t thought about it before. She decided to send him a friend request.

Still unable to focus, she began to recall some of the things Bastian had said to her during the rut, and decided to turn off her monitor. After all, it was the end of the workday.

She tidied up, said goodbye to everyone, and went straight to the parking lot. She drove without thinking, and before realizing it — or rather, without wanting to admit it — she had parked near a shop that sold motorcycle parts.

The green light seemed to last forever. There were no cars, but she followed the rules and refused to cross, even as others did. When the light changed, she walked past several cafés, some empty, others with people waiting outside for their orders, wearing masks.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. She counted to twenty and walked with firm steps. When she arrived, a heavy emptiness filled her chest. She bit her lip to stop herself from showing any emotion; deep down, she had hoped to see him again.

Lucas’s shop was closed.

She started wondering why she felt so uncomfortable, so disappointed. She wanted to cry, but then thought maybe that whirlwind of emotions was just because her rut was near.

Those thoughts tangled together. She didn’t understand it — he lived for his shop.

She thought about calling him, worried something might’ve happened. As she fumbled through her bag to find her phone, someone spoke behind her.

“¿Excuse me, are you waiting for the owner?” a voice asked.
“Yeah, I thought the shop was open, ¿and... Alex?” Valentina said, surprised.

They hadn’t seen or spoken since the day of the event. For some reason, he always seemed to appear when she needed a shoulder to lean on.

“Since when do you ride a motorcycle?” Valentina asked.
“Haha, never. I have no intention of dying young. Raffael told me about this place. I need some props for a photoshoot” Alex replied, sighing afterward.

Maybe it was just a passing thought, but lately Raffael had also been showing up a lot in her life.

It wasn’t just Bastian’s mystery haunting her anymore; to that growing list of unanswered questions, she could now add how Raffael and Lucas had become so close — and why she hadn’t known about it.

“Schmidtt here, sorry, I’m calling to reschedule your shipment. We’ve had a delivery issue”.

Lucas hadn’t opened the shop and was now calling all his clients to apologize — and to lie about why their packages wouldn’t arrive. Andrea had cut off the “miracle” teas he used to take and was focused now on making him stick to the medication prescribed by the psychiatrist.

But the meds weren’t working. Lucas couldn’t stop vomiting, feeling dizzy, and his heart kept racing faster and faster.

Andrea had begged him to stay home and rest, insisting his health came first. He could handle deliveries later — and if Lucas didn’t listen, he’d do them himself.

The last thing Lucas wanted was for Andrea to go out alone. That paranoia of being watched, combined with the constant anxiety from the news, kept him from sleeping.

He had no choice but to listen. He didn’t have the strength to argue anymore. He just wanted to stay in bed all day, though deep down, he longed to be in his shop.

“I don’t know if it’ll help, but maybe my pheromones could relax you?” Andrea said softly.
“Pheromones?... Darling, I can’t...”

He was interrupted; Andrea didn’t let him finish and began releasing his pheromones in a sudden, euphoric burst.

Lucas started to panic. His breathing grew erratic, his head throbbed, and at the same time, an overwhelming urge to take Andrea consumed him.

“Stop, don’t do that. I can smell them, I feel sick“ he said, starting to salivate.

But Andrea didn’t stop; he kept emitting pheromones.

My love, calm down. They’re sweet, they should help you relax, Andrea murmured, moving closer to embrace him.

Lucas couldn’t take it anymore. The sweet scent thickened in the air until it became unbearable, and when Andrea reached out to touch him, he pushed him away.

“I’m sorry, but I need air, he gasped,“rushing out of the apartment.

He ran, panicking, gasping for breath. When he finally reached the first floor and stepped onto the street, he tried to breathe deeply, his pulse hammering in his ears.

He felt like he was going to faint. Lights flickered in his vision, nausea rising in waves. His dick grew and swelled to such an extent that he couldn't even close his legs because of the pain.

Desperate, he called the only person he trusted; he didn’t want to scare his family.

“Valentina? Please… help me. I’m at the entrance of the building, I can’t... I can’t breathe. I think I’m going to die “.

“¿¿¿¿Lucas???? ¡LUCASSSSSSS! “ Raffael’s voice answered.

Chapter Text

The more love we offer, the more love we believe we deserve to receive. But at the end of the day, we can only count on what we give, and what we receive will depend on how much the other person wants to give us.
All that’s left is to accept, to blindly trust, and to try to fight for what we believe is right. If what we long for doesn’t come true, we must be thankful as we walk away with a broken heart—and if we can’t leave, maybe someday it will be too late.

“For now he’s stable, but it’s necessary to run a few tests,” said a doctor.

Lucas caught sight of a white coat; he didn’t know where he was, but it definitely wasn’t his home.
When the doctor left, he tried to get out of bed. He never thought that pain in the chest could connect to other parts of the body, to the point where he was afraid to even breathe.
There was no one in the room. The simple act of sitting up made him dizzy, but it didn’t take long before he heard footsteps approaching.

“The princess has finally awakened,” said Raffael.

The shock of seeing the person he least expected threw him off completely. He didn’t know why he was there. A thousand questions started running through his mind:
Could Valentina be involved with Raffael? Where was she? And Andrea—where was he?

“Don’t look at me like that, I found you lying on the floor,” said Raffael.

Despite the pain, Lucas stood up quickly to ask for his phone, but his body didn’t respond well to that impulse, resulting in weakness in his legs.
Startled, Raffael caught him and began scolding him.

Lucas didn’t want to owe him anything; just being helped made him feel uncomfortable. Everything that had happened since he woke up already made him feel wounded.
He pulled away and told him he was fine, that he would go home as soon as possible. He also needed to talk to Andrea.

“Idiot, you can’t even stand. You need to see a doctor,” said Raffael.

Lucas didn’t understand what he meant. He felt better than ever. Although, ever since he started taking those relaxants prescribed by the psychiatrist, he’d felt numb.
He knew it wasn’t anything serious, so he told Raffael he would stop taking them, that surely that was the cause. After all, every medication, without exception, had side effects.

They both moved to the living room. It was a cold, empty place, with immaculate white walls and a wide view of Lake Zurich. A house too perfect, so cold that it felt uncomfortable—though part of him found some strange peace in that stillness.

“How long has it been? I have to call Andrea,” said Lucas.
“You’ve slept for six hours,” Raffael replied.

Lucas, who for a moment had forgotten Andrea, panicked. He left that large room—first dragging himself on his knees, then with a sudden burst of strength, running to where he’d first been resting to collect his things and leave.
He grabbed his phone, and guilt overwhelmed him: there were more than a hundred missed calls. Andrea’s texts were like a roller coaster of emotions—some asking if he had abandoned her, others apologizing, others saying she would call the police, and the last ones insulting him in the worst possible way.

When Lucas tried to call Andrea back so she wouldn’t worry, Raffael snatched the phone from his hands. They glared at each other with hatred, and Lucas reacted, trying again to fight for the phone.

“I won’t give it back to you. You meant to call Valentina in the first place, but you dialed my number by mistake,” said Raffael, uncomfortable.

The intense looks, the stiff bodies—tension filled the air. Raffael took advantage of how weak Lucas was to put some distance between them.
Lucas began to breathe heavily; the migraine returned, and the pain in the soles of his feet became more noticeable. He didn’t want to stay upright. He couldn’t take it anymore—after all, he had only recently woken up from fainting.

Raffael, by reflex, approached him again. He threw the phone aside and, with one arm, grabbed Lucas by the waist. Seeing that even then Lucas couldn’t stand, he decided to lift him up with all his strength.
It was a rather ordinary scene, but between them, it was almost impossible to believe.
Lucas panicked; no one had ever carried him like that—especially not an alpha. Raffael started laughing as he set him back down on the bed.

“What humiliation. Please, give me back my phone,” said Lucas.
“Too bad, but I think it’s broken,” replied Raffael.
“That’s not funny. Give it back,” said Lucas.

The scene, which carried a mix of humor and embarrassment, quickly turned irritable again—and before Lucas could get off the bed to start another fight, the doorbell rang.

It was Valentina. Her arrival felt like a truce in the middle of a war. They both glared at each other with anger, and when Raffael briefly thought about releasing his pheromones, he quickly remembered that they would have no effect on Lucas.
He turned around, picked up Lucas’s phone that he’d thrown earlier, and went to open the door.

Long hallways, a huge house for just one person—or at least that’s what Valentina thought. She didn’t know if Raffael had a partner, though she doubted it. That man couldn’t stay still in one place; in a way, he reminded her a bit of Lucas when he was single.
Upon entering the room, she felt cold. The entire house had a monochrome style, definitely not to her personal taste. But seeing Lucas was like watching a bit of color fill that stark room.

She ran to hug him, and he groaned in pain, but she didn’t let go. She didn’t want to cry, yet she did. Despite the initial silence, Lucas, seeing his best friend crying for him, couldn’t control himself either and started crying too.

“You’re an idiot… I knew Andrea wasn’t good for you,” said Valentina, holding Lucas’s hands.
“What the fuck did you just say?” Lucas replied, his voice trembling.

Valentina was shocked to hear such an aggressive, uncomfortable response from Lucas. She let go of him quickly, bumping into Raffael, who caught her by the waist and set her aside.

“She’s just worried about you,” said Raffael.
“Worried? What’s going on? Are you two hiding something from me?” Lucas snapped.

Raffael raised his voice. They both started shouting, but Valentina interrupted them.

“Silence!” she yelled.

All three of them froze in the room.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you? It’s not my fault Bastian doesn’t satisfy you,” said Lucas.

A slap. That’s what Lucas got from Valentina. It was the first time in all their years of friendship that he had said something so hurtful to her.
They had both once confessed that they were each other’s refuge because they felt like family and knew that no one else could understand them better. But what Lucas had just said struck Valentina like a knife she never expected to take.

“The next time… No, there won’t be a next time. Let your conscience drag you down, Lucas. You’ll remember my words,” said Valentina, trying not to cry.

She grabbed her things to leave. She didn’t want to stay a second longer; she didn’t want to see him again. She began to feel anger and contempt for having cared so much about someone who, at the end of the day, would turn his back on her like everyone else.

Raffael didn’t let her go; instead, he told Lucas to leave. He threw his things at him and pointed to the door. Lucas stared at both of them and, dragging himself in pain, left—but not before saying:

“I didn’t know you played with more than one. What was it again? Oh, right. Watch out for Raffael—isn’t he the bastard who only sleeps with omegas? Bon appétit. Have some shame, and tell Bastian you’ve got another one.”

Valentina didn’t reply; instead, she started laughing, though deep down she knew it was out of nerves. A wave of disgust washed over Lucas as he realized Valentina thought herself superior for mocking him. So he promised himself never to see her again.

Raffael and Valentina didn’t know what to say. The whole situation felt like a soap opera.

“I’m not going to apologize. You’ve always looked at me like trash,” said Valentina, heading toward the door.
“It’s logical you’d think that of me. After all, I’m irresistible,” Raffael replied sarcastically.

Valentina looked at Raffael as if he were the dumbest person in the world, but he changed his tone to show her something he had in his pocket: Lucas’s phone.
Neither of them knew what to do—return it, or look inside. The moment itself was already chaotic.

Valentina wiped away the last of her tears and told Raffael to give her the phone. She knew what she had said had come out of impulse. After all, she didn’t want to drift away from Lucas, despite the damage she’d caused.
Raffael handed over the phone; he didn’t want to get involved any further. They weren’t his friends anyway.

Valentina politely said goodbye to Raffael and headed to her car.
She turned on the radio, and as she stared at Lucas’s broken phone, the sound of an incoming call pierced her storming thoughts. It was Bastian.

She answered… but the radio, blaring at full volume, drowned out everything he was saying.

🎙️ [SFX: teleprinter sound and urgent news music]

ANNOUNCER:
“Attention, attention!
We interrupt our broadcast with breaking news.
We’re live from the press conference held by the Zurich police.
Just a few minutes ago, authorities confirmed new leads on the killer known as ‘The Hunter.’”

🎙️ [Voice change — reporter:]
“Good evening.
Police have declared that the recent murders appear to be connected: all victims share the same pattern.
According to reports, all the victims have been either alpha or omega phenotype, leading investigators to believe the killer could be a beta—and that this may be a possible hate crime.”

🎙️ ANNOUNCER (off-screen):
“Authorities urge calm and assure that the operation to capture the suspect continues.
We’ll keep you updated.”

🎙️ [SFX: tense music fades out, followed by radio static]

Chapter Text

Only 36 hours had passed since Lucas’ incident, but this time he wasn’t at Raffael’s house. He was in a completely different kind of place:
male patient admitted, 32 years old, domestic accident, Beta phenotype, conscious but agitated, reporting chest pain and shortness of breath.

There was no clear medical history, the accompanying person reported progressive discomfort for several days. The overall clinical picture was not conclusive. IV access was established, a hydration solution was administered, and extended studies were ordered to rule out intoxication, metabolic alteration, or a hidden infectious process.

“Mr. Schmidtt, can you hear me?” a doctor asked.
“Yes,” Lucas replied.
“Do you authorize your partner to represent you?” the doctor asked again.
“Yes… I give full authorization,” Lucas answered.

That day, his symptoms were worse. A couple hours earlier, before losing consciousness, he had actually been feeling relatively well: despite the physical pain he still felt, the vertigo, the agitation and that strange over-excitation he had been carrying had already disappeared.

He had a big argument with Andrea. He never told him where he had been, or that he had fought with Valentina, and that they were “not friends” anymore. He wanted to spare himself additional stress, lying that he had been alone, and had gone to his shop to rest.

Andrea didn’t know what to do, he had no one he could call, and Lucas had told him he had forgotten his phone at the workshop. He thought for a moment about going to get it, but he didn’t want to leave Lucas alone, so he had no other option but to call Valentina.

Two hours later, Valentina arrived at the ER along with Lucas’ mothers and sister. Andrea was surprised, he hadn’t asked her to inform them, so he felt terribly uncomfortable.

Lucas slept, he had been sedated due to the pain, and for the moment everyone was waiting for the toxicology results.

“Andrea, honey, what happened?” Lucas’ Alpha mother asked.
“I don’t know, we were having breakfast and out of nowhere he started spitting white foam from his mouth,” Andrea answered through tears.

Valentina stepped away from the group for a moment to approach the window and see how the person she still considered her best friend was doing. She had promised herself she wouldn’t see him again, that she would hate him, but she also knew that would never happen.

Inside her, she wanted to wake him up, yell at him, hit him, and at the same time ask for forgiveness. She felt guilty for everything that was happening, she blamed herself for not having worried more about him.

The hallways smelled like disinfectant, but also like coffee. She began biting her nails, moving her feet from side to side as if she had pain in the soles, when in reality it was the anxiety eating her alive.

All the possibilities of what could happen once Lucas woke up flooded her head: what if he didn’t let her into the room? What if they never became best friends again? What if Lucas told Andrea about Raffael and he misunderstood it and told Bastian? What if, in the end, Bastian also left her?

She couldn’t take it anymore, she decided to get something to drink to calm herself. She was losing her mind, and she had little energy left due to her recent sleepless nights at work. She found a vending machine, so she decided to buy an energy drink.

“You should be careful, those drinks can poison you.”

She was startled for a moment when she heard that voice, but then she saw it was only the silhouette of a nurse. She ignored what she heard and returned to the others.

She couldn’t find Andrea anywhere, but Lucas’ mothers and his sister were sitting in the waiting room drinking coffee.

“Are you looking for Andrea? The doctor called him,” Lucas’ Beta mother said.

Valentina thought it was better to leave. She didn’t want to stay any longer, or rather, she didn’t think it was right to stay, fearing Lucas would reject her if he saw her.

Six hours had passed since Lucas had been admitted to the ER, and Andrea was called when the results finally came back.

The doctors recommended a gastric lavage, and if everything went well, Lucas would wake up in 24 hours with only mild symptoms. They suspected some type of intoxication, but they couldn’t determine which one.

Additionally, they recommended seeing a gland specialist and an endocrinologist. Andrea thought the situation wasn’t that serious if it only required a specific procedure, although he then asked:

“Doctor, my partner was prescribed relaxants, could those have side effects? He only takes vitamins to strengthen the immune system, and hormones.”

“Hormones?” the doctor asked.

A brief silence filled the room, but Andrea quickly explained they were just herbal mixes to regulate mood, metabolism, and especially stress.

The doctor, while writing in his agenda, requested that all teas be suspended. The tests they had run on Lucas were still basic, so they had to consider any possible external factor.

To see or not to see, to ask or not to ask, to risk or not to risk. Despite pain and betrayal, it’s strange how hard it is for us to cut things from the beginning. It doesn’t matter if they say they’re different — in the end, we’re human.

Whether on the first time or the second, eventually we will fall for it. Because humans, like it or not, will always follow emotion first, and only when they touch real pain will they finally move forward without looking back… as long as they’re not a psychopath.

Sunday, December 1st

Valentina found out through María that Lucas had already been discharged and was doing better. She had decided to stay away until things were more stable — she didn’t want to make anything worse.

She focused on her work, but also on the lawsuit. She had agreed to meet with the lawyer to send the conciliation letter.

They met in a new café in the city, but this time, the lawyer didn’t arrive alone.

“So you’re cheating on me with an Alpha?” someone said before laughing.

A chill ran down her spine, starting at her nape, making her jump involuntarily. She turned around scared, but once she realized who it was, she felt peace.

Bastian had arrived by surprise with the lawyer. She had no idea — he had never told her about his trip to Zürich. Valentina had asked him more than once when they would see each other again, but Bastian always avoided the question.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Valentina said, annoyed.

“Relax, kitten, I wanted to surprise you,” Bastian replied.

Valentina wasn’t a fan of nicknames. Since they weren’t alone, she decided to stay quiet.

Bastian was informed about everything that was happening, and although Valentina had already explained things to him, Steffan had also given him details about the plan they would follow.

She knew that once the agency received the letter, they would only have one week to coordinate the conciliation meeting. If the agency, Erick, or any representative refused, they would move on to plan B: proceed with the formal lawsuit.

Valentina was nervous. She didn’t want to go to trial because of how exhausting it could be — and she was also terrified of losing due to the little power she had — although Bastian didn’t entirely agree.

“Steffan, what if we just file the lawsuit right now?” Bastian asked, winking at Valentina.

“NO, let’s just follow the rules, please,” Valentina replied.

“Baby, I think today has been too much for you, why don’t you let me take care of it?”

Chapter Text

With winter always came the Christmas fairs — that special time of the year when you could go grab a good raclette or drink hot mulled wine. Valentina lied many times when she said she didn’t like going out, but the truth was she didn’t like going out when she didn’t have money.

“Let’s go to the fair? I want to eat outside,” Valentina said.

“Are you crazy? It’s freezing,” Bastian replied.

“Fine, I’ll go alone,” Valentina said, grabbing her jacket.

Bastian didn’t like her tone, nor the fact that she would even consider going alone. For him, now that they were a couple, it was necessary to go out together. If not, then they simply shouldn’t go.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, it was that he didn’t trust others. He began complaining, saying that yes, Italy was cold too but not like this, and that he wasn’t used to it… but because it was her, he’d make an effort.

They arrived at the fair in Stadelhofen. It was visually attractive — the colors, the soft yellow lights, and even the restaurant-trains crossing through the city.

Bastian was surprised. He had assumed Swiss people were boring… though maybe the problem was simply that living there was too expensive.

They ate a lot, walked by the lake, and got a little drunk too. They had no idea how many cups of mulled wine they had already had. But they were both very affectionate with each other.

“Did you miss me?” Bastian asked, biting Valentina’s ear.

“A lot…” Valentina replied softly.

“Then I’ll move in with you,” Bastian said, grabbing her waist.

She didn’t reply; instead, she rested her face against his chest. She didn’t know what to say — she enjoyed being with him, spending time together, but… living with someone? She had never lived with anyone, and they hadn’t even talked about it.

The topic stayed there, as if that silence itself had been an implicit acceptance of what he’d said. They went back home, got everything ready to rest, and once they got in bed, Bastian pulled Valentina closer to him.

He traced kisses along her nape, his hand sliding up her thighs, slowly, deliberately.

He whispered in her ear how much he needed her, how much he desired her — that he wasn’t himself without her.

Valentina bit her lower lip, feeling her body react to him, her mind going hazy as she leaned into him, wanting the contact.

The darkness of that room mixed with the heat under the blankets, which grew heavier and more unbearable by the second.

They did it once, maybe twice. Valentina just let herself go, focused on pleasing him. She had missed him, she wanted to feel their bodies together. But when Bastian reached his climax and she didn’t, she felt an enormous emptiness.

The next morning came. Bastian touched her again. She refused at first — she wasn’t fully awake — but he insisted. Valentina said no again, and it ended in an argument that woke her up completely.

Bastian had become more and more possessive, and she didn’t understand why he couldn’t see it. She gave him everything — but he didn’t give her anything back. She knew orgasm wasn’t everything, but she wanted at least one.

There was silence during most of the morning and after breakfast. Before, Valentina would have asked Bastian to shower together… but now she wanted to be alone. She took the chance when he said he was going to the supermarket.

She felt the hot water running down her body. She stopped midway — she had never touched herself like this in the shower. It wasn’t even close to her rut yet, so she didn’t understand why she had this sudden need to feel something.

She couldn’t touch herself there. She didn’t feel comfortable.
She left the shower, still wet from the water and a cold shiver on her skin, lay on the bed naked, and touched her own hips.

She touched herself as if it were something delicate. She liked to play with herself like that, spreading her legs and imagining that someone else was doing it to her, or that another version of Bastian was pleasing her.

She played with her center, brushing the entrance with her middle finger, knowing that the moisture wasn't water. She started with one finger, then played with two and pressed down. A slight moan escaped her, she kept pressing and the moans didn't stop, it was pleasurable.

She continued touching herself, pressing her palm against her clitoris while moving her fingers inside her in circles, and curious sounds that only excited her intensified the moment. Only erotic phrases crossed her mind:

Do you like it? Do you want more? You're mine, you're only mine. Tell me you like it, I'll do anything you ask. Tell me, tell me I'm yours... Beg me for more...

The orgasm was close, it was almost there, but then she heard the door closing. She had to stop. Her good mood turned dark and furious instantly. For a moment she wanted Bastian to leave, she didn’t want to see him anymore… she needed pleasure and she wasn’t getting it.

“Baby… what’s wrong?” Bastian asked.

“WHAT’S WRONG? I’LL TELL YOU WHAT’S WRONG… YOU HAVE NEVER MADE ME COME,” Valentina snapped.

At first Bastian looked surprised, and then his eyes darkened. It was as if she had accused him of being a bad lover.

“You’re ungrateful, it’s not my fault if you’re frigid,” Bastian shouted.

“Frigid? GET OUT,” Valentina yelled, throwing a pillow.

The atmosphere was becoming increasingly tense, and anyone would have thought that Bastian would leave, but, on the contrary, he moved closer and closer, cornering Valentina against the wall. His eyes changed, turning blue, and she could feel his pheromones due to the strong exposure.

She wanted to run; she knew he was bigger than her. She was supposed to have learned martial arts and had already been through something like this; she should have reacted differently, she should have defended herself, but she froze.

“I won't hurt you. If you want an orgasm so badly, I'll teach you a lesson,” said Bastian, pressing Valentina's vulva.

Valentina banged her head against the wall, then was turned around and her face collided with the cold wall. She screamed in pain as she felt Bastian bite her neck, she screamed for him to let her go, but he didn't.

The sound of the belt echoed in the room as he tied her hands. He dragged Valentina to the bed, put her on all fours, and mercilessly penetrated her. When he felt how wet she was, when she couldn't stop moaning, he turned her over, licked her countless times, and then penetrated her again.

At some point, the stimulation was so intense due to the force, the pressure, the submission, and everything Bastian was saying to her that when he started sucking her breasts, Valentina's body convulsed until she reached orgasm.

Bastian could feel her climax as he felt the pressure on his member, and instead of coming inside her, he came outside. He untied her, looked at her, and in a tone that was understood as an order, said:

“Are you satisfied now? Go shower. I already asked Steffan to meet us later. Be quick.”

After she finished showering and getting dressed, Bastian took her to a restaurant where only omegas and alphas attended; she felt uncomfortable, she was the center of attention.

“Relax, it’s because I marked you with my pheromones. That’s how it should be with betas,” Bastian said, pulling the chair out so Valentina could sit.

The lawyer, when he arrived, covered his nose; he looked quite uncomfortable. But then he just went with the flow and forgot —or ignored— the scent she was giving off.

“I asked Steffan to include me in the sessions you have for the conciliation,” Bastian said, signing some papers.

“Excuse me? But we haven’t even—” Valentina tried to respond.

But she was interrupted; Steffan, being a proper alpha lawyer, drew a line that she did not know how to answer.

“I feel better now, I need to go back to the shop.”

Lucas felt better, he had almost a full week of rest, so he believed he could return to normal. He had a lot to do, and he didn’t even have a phone, so he was completely out of contact.

Andrea refused to open the shop, because for him, his only concern was Lucas. He didn’t want to leave him alone.

He had no pending orders to deliver, but all he could think about were the financial losses. He had to pay the rent, the orders he had placed, everything was piling up, and that emergency episode hadn’t helped at all.

Two more days passed, and it was Friday. The days were going by faster and faster, Andrea didn’t leave him alone, he was practically his shadow, and Lucas had no choice but to confess that he had lost his phone.

At first Andrea didn’t believe him, although in a way he accepted it. They decided to go to a shop to buy a new phone, Lucas didn’t have much money so he chose a plan with a cheap phone. The financial worries were slowly taking a toll on him.

At home, calmer, he decided to install everything and set up his phone. It took him about an hour to do the backups; he had a mountain of messages, but the strange thing was that among all of them, he unconsciously looked for Valentina’s.

There were none, not a single one. He knew they had fought and that both —or at least he— had said very hurtful things, but he wanted to believe that despite that, she still missed him and cared about him.

He knew Valentina was proud; he had always been the exception to that rule. He began to scroll through their old chat, and while the backup was finishing, he received a message in another app similar to WChat:

You’ve been added to ZurichLeaksNews. Here you can find photos, theories and everything about ‘the hunter’ and other similar cases. Group rules: 18+ only, respect above all. Warning: every photo must contain sensitive content blur.

Lucas didn’t understand what that group was, he hated chain messages and spam groups. He found them stupid, and when he was about to leave the group, someone posted a blurred but familiar picture.

Curiosity won, so he decided to open it; the photo made him nauseous. It was extremely explicit, all life gone, all light gone. That photo was the circus of morbid fascination.