The lie I put on like skin

They taught me how to lie before they taught me how to survive.

First lesson: identity is disposable.

Names can be erased.

Scent can be altered.

Instincts can be suppressed.

And if you’re walking into the mouth of a monster, you don’t walk in as a threat.

You walk in as something weak.

That’s how I became an omega.

I stared at my reflection in the dim bathroom mirror, fingers pressing the suppressant patch into the skin just below my jaw. The tech hummed faintly, masking my alpha scent until it faded into something soft, sweet, and harmless.

I hated it.

“You look pathetic,” I muttered to myself, tilting my head. Pale. Smaller. Less… me.

If my younger self could see me now, he’d probably punch me in the face.

To be fair, I deserved it.

The Vale Syndicate compound loomed beyond the window—steel, glass, and quiet violence. This wasn’t just a mafia headquarters. It was a kingdom. One built on blood, loyalty, and fear.

At its center sat Lucien Vale.

Mafia heir. Crime lord. Ghost story wrapped in a tailored suit.

My mission briefing replayed in my head.

Infiltrate. Observe. Report. Do not engage emotionally.

I snorted softly.

“Emotionally unavailable. Got it.”

I stepped into the compound with my shoulders slightly hunched, gaze lowered, posture carefully non-threatening. The guards barely looked at me. To them, I was invisible.

Perfect.

Until I wasn’t.

The air changed before I saw him. Conversations softened, footsteps slowed. Even the guards straightened, instincts screaming authority.

Lucien Vale entered without ceremony.

He was taller than I expected. Calm. Impossibly composed. His presence was heavy, like gravity bending toward him.

I told myself not to look.

I failed.

His eyes were sharp, golden-brown, moving through the room like he was counting everyone’s sins. When his gaze landed on me, my breath hitched.

Not fear.

Recognition.

Which made zero sense.

He didn’t look at me like prey.

He looked at me like someone had put the wrong piece on a chessboard.

I immediately lowered my eyes.

“Good,” I thought. “Stick to the script.”

He walked past me.

Then stopped.

“You.”

One word. Calm. Controlled.

My pulse went feral.

“Yes?” I answered softly, voice pitched just right—obedient, uncertain.

“What’s your name?”

I gave him the fake one without hesitation. I’d practiced it a thousand times.

He repeated it slowly, like he was tasting it.

Then he nodded.

That should’ve been the end of it.

But as he walked away, I felt it—his attention still on me, threading into my spine like a hook.

I swallowed.

“Well,” I whispered under my breath, “this is how horror movies start.”

The days that followed were… wrong.

Lucien Vale did not treat me like an omega.

He didn’t coddle me, didn’t dismiss me, didn’t reduce me to background noise. He asked me questions. Direct ones. Ones meant for people whose opinions mattered.

During meetings, his eyes flicked to me—not for reassurance, but for assessment.

Once, he asked what I thought about a supply route.

I nearly combusted.

Every man in the room stared at me like I’d grown another head.

I hesitated exactly long enough to seem unsure before answering.

Lucien listened.

Then agreed.

That was the first crack in my cover.

That night, I reported everything to my handler with shaking hands.

“Abort?” I asked quietly.

“No,” came the immediate response. “He suspects nothing.”

I stared at the screen.

“That’s funny,” I whispered. “I think he suspects everything."

Weeks turned into months.

I watched Lucien rule his empire with precision and restraint. Violence, when necessary. Mercy, when deserved. He was terrifying—but not monstrous.

That scared me more.

Late one night, we crossed paths in an empty hallway. No guards. No witnesses.

He stopped suddenly.

“You don’t smell afraid,” he said.

My heart slammed into my ribs.

I laughed to hide it. “That’s rude. Maybe I just have confidence issues.”

A corner of his mouth lifted.

“I doubt that’s all.”

That smile followed me into my dreams.

And somewhere between the lies, the reports, the careful distance—I realized something had gone terribly wrong.

I didn’t just want to survive this mission.

I wanted to stay.

And that was the most dangerous thought of all.

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