Chapter 5 : six months ago (4)

Dante's first thought was: setup.

His second thought was: who would dare?

The omega was young, mid-twenties maybe, dark hair messy, dressed in clothes that didn't quite fit. He looked terrified. His scent hit the air, rain and cedar and underneath it the unmistakable sweetness of a heat that was coming on too fast, too hard.

Dante's body reacted before his brain caught up.

His rut hadn't triggered in four years. He had iron control, had trained himself past the biological imperatives that controlled weaker alphas. He didn't lose control. Ever.

The omega's scent wrapped around him and Dante felt his control slip.

No. Not slip. Shatter.

Heat flooded through him, primal and overwhelming. His vision narrowed. The gun in his hand suddenly felt irrelevant. Everything felt irrelevant except the omega standing three feet away, stumbling, vulnerable, his scent screaming that he needed an alpha, needed help, needed—

Dante holstered the gun. Forced his breathing to even out. Forced his voice to work.

"You need to leave," he said. The words came out rougher than intended. "Now."

The omega blinked at him. His eyes were green, unfocused, pupils blown wide. "I'm sorry," he said. His voice was soft, slurred at the edges. "I didn't mean to, I thought this was—"

He stopped. Swayed.

Dante could see it happening. The omega's legs giving out. The way his balance shifted wrong.

Dante crossed the distance between them and caught him before he hit the ground.

The scent was overwhelming this close. Rain and cedar and heat, soaking into Dante's clothes, his skin, his lungs. The omega was light in his arms, too light, the kind of thin that came from not eating enough. Dante lowered him onto the couch, careful despite the rut clawing at the inside of his skull.

The omega's eyes were half-closed. He was trying to say something, lips moving, but no sound coming out.

Dante tilted the omega's face up, forcing eye contact. The green eyes struggled to focus.

Drugged. The omega was drugged.

Dante had seen enough drugged people to recognize the signs. The too-fast heat onset, the confusion, the way the omega's body was reacting while his brain was clearly trying to shut down.

Someone had done this. Deliberately. Sent a drugged omega into Dante's private room during a heat, probably with cameras ready, probably planning to use it as blackmail or leverage or a dozen other plays Dante could already see unfolding.

The rage that went through him was cold and sharp.

"Who did this to you?" Dante asked.

The omega didn't answer. His eyes rolled back slightly. He was going under, heat and drugs dragging him down into unconsciousness.

Dante pulled out his phone, one-handed, the other arm still supporting the omega's weight. He called Alexei.

"I need you at Imperium. Now. Someone just made a move."

"What kind of move?"

"The kind that's going to get people killed." Dante looked at the omega, unconscious now, curled on his couch, scent still flooding the room. "And I need a doctor. Discreet. Omega specialist."

Alexei was quiet for exactly two seconds. "Understood. Ten minutes."

Dante ended the call.

The omega was breathing, shallow but steady. His face was flushed, heat burning through him even unconscious. Dante could smell the fear underneath the heat pheromones, old fear, the kind that meant this omega had learned to be afraid long before tonight.

Dante stood. Forced himself to step back. Put three feet of distance between himself and the couch.

His rut was still there, still clawing, but he'd been controlling his biology since he was sixteen. He could control this.

He looked at the omega. Young. Terrified. Drugged and left vulnerable in a room with a predator.

Someone had planned this. Had drugged this boy, had sent him here, had probably been watching through hidden cameras to see what would happen.

Dante was going to find out who.

And then he was going to kill them.

But first, he was going to make sure the omega survived the night.

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