Because I’m Xanthe Aldrith, second son of the most prestigious omega bloodline in the city, and I’ve been raised to be perfect.
Perfect posture.
Perfect control.
Perfect little omega, waiting for some perfectly appropriate alpha to claim me.
So of course, I do the opposite.
I come to the worst part of the city, to the underground auction house where they keep alphas like him. The ones deemed unfit. The ones even the Alpha Control Registry couldn’t fix.
And I buy him.
The blacklisted alpha.
The one with no owner, no past, no future.
The one they say killed his last master.
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SOL
They think I don’t see what’s happening.
The room stinks of control—betas in suits, omegas wrapped in expensive silk, all of them looking down at the alphas in cages.
They think we’re animals.
They think leashes and drugs make us safe.
But I watch them.
And I wait.
Then he steps forward.
The aristocrat.
Soft hands. Sharp tongue. Eyes like he’s never been told no.
He buys me.
And I let him.
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XANTHE
It’s a statement, really.
A final act of defiance before my parents try to marry me off to some boring, well-mannered, leash-wearing alpha.