Chapter 1 Prologue

Content Warning: This story contains scenes of violence, including physical and emotional abuse. It explores themes of trauma, mental illness, Physical abusive, verbal abuse and self-harm. Reader discretion is advised. If you are sensitive to these topics or have experienced similar challenges, please proceed with caution.

Mikhail's POV

"Mikhail! Where are you?!"

Dad's voice boomed through our small home, thick with desperation and anger. I froze, my fingers tightening around the wooden toy in my hands. The sound of his footsteps made the walls tremble, but I didn't run. I never ran.

I turned to my mother instead. She was standing by the window, her hands gripping the fabric of her dress so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her face was pale, her lips pressed into a thin, trembling line.

"Why, Mom?" I asked softly, tilting my head.

She turned to me then, her eyes full of something I didn't understand. Fear? Sorrow? Guilt?

I didn't know.

All I knew was that she looked at me the way people looked at something fragile, something already broken before it had the chance to shatter.

Her hands cupped my face, her fingers warm against my cold skin. I watched her lips move, whispering a word I couldn't hear, a word I didn't need to.

Run.

My heart pounded as the door slammed open, and Dad's shadow filled the room.

And in that moment, I knew.

Dad yanked me forward, his grip like iron around my wrist. My toy slipped from my fingers, landing with a hollow thud on the wooden floor.

"Get ready. You're leaving now."

I blinked up at him, confusion knotting in my stomach.

I signed, Where?

His expression twisted with disgust. Instead of answering, he shoved me away. Pain shot through my arms as I crashed onto the floor. The impact stung, but I bit my lip, refusing to make a sound.

I'm Mikhail Gorbachev, A submissive omega, one and only son of Gorbachev couple-

From the corner of my eye, I saw Mom move. A step forward. A breath caught in her throat. But she didn't dare intervene. She never did.

"The head of the Alphas is coming to pay me," Dad muttered, brushing dust from his sleeve as if I was something filthy that had touched him. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, glaring down at me like I was nothing more than a burden. "Took long enough for someone to take interest in you."

Something in my chest tightened.

The words didn't make sense at first. But then, like pieces of a puzzle falling into place, the meaning became clear.

He was selling me.

I looked at Mom again. Her lips trembled as she clenched her hands together, her eyes begging me not to fight back.

I wanted to scream. To beg. To demand why she wouldn't stop him.

But I had no voice.

And even if I did...

It wouldn't have mattered.

Because in this world, Omegas like me had no choice.

Something was about to change. Something was about to end.

And I was too young to stop it.

"Damien, how could you do this to your son? He's just ten years old! He can live a normal life! There's gotta be another way! Just don't do this!"

Mom's voice cracked as she begged, her hands clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white. I had never seen her this desperate before.

Dad scoffed, lighting a cigarette as if this was nothing more than a simple transaction. His eyes were cold, empty. "Normal life? Don't make me laugh. He's an Omega, Lysandria. The only thing normal for his kind is being owned."

Owned.

The word sent a shiver through my body.

I turned to Mom, my vision blurry as tears welled in my eyes. My chest ached, my breath hitching as I signed, Would you be okay if I leave?

Mom froze, her face twisting in pain.

For a moment, just a moment, I thought she would finally fight for me. That she would hold me and never let go. That she would scream, cry, do something to stop this from happening.

But she didn't.

Her lips trembled, her shoulders shaking. Then, as if the life had been drained from her, she dropped to her knees and sobbed into her hands.

She had already lost.

She had already surrendered.

And I...

I had never felt more alone.

A knock echoed through the house.

Dad smirked. "Right on time."

The door swung open so violently that the walls shook. Cold air rushed in, making my skin prickle.

And then, he stepped inside.

I knew him.

Everyone did.

The head of the Alpha clan. A man of power, cruelty, and absolute authority. But he wasn't Colton.

No, this man was worse.

His scent hit me before his gaze did-thick, suffocating, like smoke and burning wood. It clawed its way into my lungs, making my stomach churn. I staggered back, my hands gripping my arms as if I could shield myself from the overwhelming force of his presence.

His eyes landed on me, sharp as a predator's. A slow smirk tugged at his lips, amusement flickering across his expression as if he found my fear entertaining.

"Ah," he murmured, taking a step closer. "So this is the silent little Omega I've heard so much about."

His voice was deep, smooth-too calm, too controlled. It sent a shiver down my spine.

Dad chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets. "He's not much trouble. You won't even hear him complain."

The Alpha hummed, tilting his head. "Not much trouble, huh?" His gaze swept over me, lingering too long, too heavy.

I clenched my fists.

I hated this.

I hated how small I felt under his gaze. How helpless.

Then, just as quickly as he had focused on me, he lost interest. His smirk faded. He turned back to my father, sighing. "I didn't come to take him."

My breath caught.

Not here to take me?

Dad stiffened. "What do you mean? We agreed-"

"I said I'd come to inspect him," the Alpha interrupted, his voice colder now. "I have no use for a frail little thing like this."

His words should have made me feel relieved.

They didn't.

Because the moment he turned away, he uttered a name that made my blood freeze.

"Colton will be the one to take him."

My heart dropped.

Colton.

Notorious. Ruthless. Monster.

The Alpha turned to me one last time, his smirk returning. "I wonder how long you'll last with him."

And just like that, my fate was sealed.

"What?! What about my money?!" Dad's voice was filled with desperation, his face twisting in anger. "Colton promised to take him away in exchange for my money!"

The Alpha scoffed, barely sparing him a glance. "Colton will pay you, but he takes what he wants when he's ready. Not when you demand it."

Dad's fists clenched, but he didn't dare argue further. He knew better.

I stood frozen, my breath shallow. My mind barely processed what was happening. I wasn't being taken yet, but it didn't matter.

Colton was coming for me.

And everyone knew that when Colton wanted something, he never let go.

The Alpha turned, stepping toward the door. Then, almost as an afterthought, he glanced at me once more.

"Be grateful, little Omega," he murmured, amusement flickering in his cold eyes. "Colton has a special way of breaking things... and I have a feeling he'll enjoy breaking you."

The door slammed shut behind him.

The room fell into suffocating silence.

Then, Dad cursed, kicking over a chair in frustration.

I barely flinched.

My hands trembled as I signed to Mom, How long?

She wiped her tears, but her silence told me everything.

Not long.

Colton was coming.

And there was no escape.

But-twelve years passed, and Colton never came.

At first, we waited in fear. Every time footsteps approached our home, every time an Alpha's scent lingered in the air, I braced myself. But days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and then years.

Mom was relieved.

Dad was not.

The money never came. The power he thought he would gain never arrived. And with each passing day, his resentment grew.

So he took it out on me.

At first, it was small-an angry shove, a harsh grip on my wrist. But as the years stretched on, his rage festered like a wound. The beatings became frequent, cruel, and relentless.

It didn't matter if I was silent.

It didn't matter if I bowed my head, obeyed, made myself small.

Nothing was ever enough.

Every drunken night, his fists would remind me that I had ruined him.

"Useless Omega." A slap.

"Should've sold you when I had the chance." A kick.

"Not even Alphas want you." A cruel laugh, a shove, the taste of blood in my mouth.

Mom tried to stop him. She always did. She'd throw herself between us, screaming, pleading. But she was weak, too fragile to stand against him.

And me?

I learned to endure.

Because Colton never came.

And I had no one else.

Things only got worse when Mom got sick.

At first, it was just exhaustion-her hands shaking as she cooked, her breath coming out in short, tired gasps. But then the coughing started. Deep, painful, wracking her body until she curled into herself, muffling the sound with trembling hands.

The first time I saw blood on her fingers, I froze.

The second time, I realized she was dying.

Dad didn't care. If anything, he became crueler, blaming me for every misfortune, every failure. He spent his nights drowning in alcohol, his rage always finding its way to me. But I no longer flinched when he hit me. No longer fought back when he threw his insults.

Because I had something more important to focus on-Mom.

I took care of her as best as I could. I fed her, bathed her, sat beside her when the nights became unbearable. I wiped the blood from her lips and held her hand when the pain was too much.

But it wasn't enough.

The years passed, and her body withered away.

One cold night, as the rain poured outside, I felt her fingers tighten around mine. I watched as her tired eyes found me, barely open, barely seeing.

She smiled-soft, weak, full of sadness.

Her lips moved. I traced the shape of her words.

"I'm sorry."

And then...

She was gone.

I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I just sat there, holding her lifeless hand in mine, staring at her still face.

She had left me behind.

Alone.

"Hurry up and cook something edible, you useless Omega! Now that that bitch is gone, you'll do everything in this house! I don't want a lazy ass!"

Dad's voice was sharp, slurred from alcohol, his rage spilling into every word. I didn't react. I just nodded, my hands gripping the wet cloth as I continued wiping the floor.

That was my life now.

Cleaning. Cooking. Obeying.

Surviving.

I barely had time to breathe before the bucket beside me went flying, dirty water splashing over my hands and legs. My breath hitched at the sudden coldness, but I didn't flinch.

Dad scowled, looking at me like I was something filthy. "Fucking control your pheromones! It's disgusting! And take a damn shower! You stink!" He spat on the floor, rubbing his temples like I was the reason for his headache.

I lowered my gaze, biting the inside of my cheek. My scent wasn't strong. If anything, it was faint-muffled from years of suppressing it. But Dad still hated it.

Still hated me.

I forced myself up, ignoring the way my body ached from years of bruises that never fully healed. I picked up the fallen bucket and quietly moved to clean the mess again.

Dad didn't stop me.

He never did-not as long as I obeyed.

And so I did.

Like always.

Like a good, silent, broken Omega.

One morning, Dad came home drunk again.

I heard the door slam, the heavy shuffle of his footsteps, the unmistakable clink of bottles as he tossed them aside.

I knew what was coming.

So I did what I always did-I locked myself in my room, pressing my back against the door, heart pounding.

I didn't want to be beaten again.

It still hurt.

The bruises on my ribs hadn't even faded from the last time, the dull ache a constant reminder of my place in this house.

But hiding never worked for long.

His anger was like fire-it needed something to burn.

And I was the only thing left.

The doorknob rattled.

"Open the damn door, you useless mutt!"

I clenched my eyes shut, gripping the book in my hands. Maybe if I stayed quiet, he'd get bored. Maybe he'd pass out before he remembered why he was angry.

But luck had never been on my side.

A loud bang shook the door, then another. The cheap wood creaked under his strength. I swallowed hard, knowing it wouldn't hold for long.

Then, silence. For a moment, I thought he had given up.

I was wrong, A sharp crack echoed through the room as the door was kicked open. I barely had time to move before he stormed in, his bloodshot eyes landing on me.

He sneered. "Look at you, so small and feminine. Geez." His lip curled in disgust. "Omegas are made for being useless."

I didn't respond. I just curled my fingers around the book, keeping my head down, keeping my breath even.

It wasn't enough. It was never enough.

The book was ripped from my hands and thrown across the room. It hit the wall with a dull thud before falling to the floor, pages bent, spine cracking.

My chest tightened. That book was one of the few things I had left.

I bit my lip and signed, "Please... just leave me alone".

His eyes darkened.

"Leave you alone?" he mocked, stepping closer. His breath reeked of alcohol. His hands twitched at his sides, itching for violence. "You think you get to ask for things, huh?"

I stiffened as his fingers curled into my hair, yanking my head back. A sharp sting shot through my scalp, but I didn't make a sound.

"You're nothing, Mikhail," he spat. "A pathetic, weak little Omega that no one wanted. Not even Colton."

My stomach twisted.

Not even Colton.

Twelve years ago, I had been terrified of the Alpha who was supposed to take me. But now?

Now, I almost wished he had.

Because anything-anything-had to be better than this.

Mikhail's POV

Midnight was the only time I could breathe.

It was the only time I could move without fear, without the sting of hands or the weight of cruel words pressing down on me.

I sighed, stepping carefully across the cold wooden floor, making my way to the kitchen for a glass of water. My body ached from earlier, but I was used to it. Pain was a constant companion.

But just as I reached the sink, I froze.

Voices.

Outside.

I barely peeked through the small crack in the window, my breath catching as I saw my father swaying, bottle in hand, talking to a man whose face I didn't recognize.

"You're sure he's still a virgin?" The stranger's voice was low, calculating.

Dad snorted, taking another swig. "Of course he is." He waved a lazy hand. "Kid doesn't even leave the damn house. And who the hell would touch him anyway?"

My stomach twisted.

The stranger hummed, unconvinced. "What about his heat cycle? I don't want to deal with him getting pregnant."

Dad rolled his eyes. "I don't know, and I don't care. If you want him, just give me the money and take him away from here."

The world around me blurred.

I gripped the counter, my knuckles turning white.

He was selling me.

Again.

Twelve years ago, Colton never came, and Dad had never let me forget how much money he lost because of it. Now, he had found someone else to buy me.

The air suddenly felt too thick to breathe.

I had to get out.

I had to run.

But before I could even move, the front door creaked open.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the small house.

And then a scent hit me-thick, powerful, and suffocating.

Not the man from outside.

No.

This scent was different.

Familiar.

Dangerous.

A deep voice rumbled through the air, sending a shiver down my spine.

"I don't remember giving you permission to sell what's mine."

My breath caught.

It couldn't be.

But as I turned toward the door, my heart nearly stopped.

Because standing there, looking more terrifying than I ever imagined, was the Alpha I had spent twelve years trying to forget.

Colton.

The air in the house changed instantly.

My father, drunk and cocky just moments ago, stiffened as the deep voice echoed through the small space. His grip on the bottle faltered, his knuckles turning white.

Slowly, he turned.

I didn't dare move.

Standing in the doorway, bathed in the dim glow of the porch light, was the Alpha I had once feared-the Alpha who was supposed to take me all those years ago.

Colton.

He was taller now, broader, with sharp features that carried an air of absolute dominance. His dark coat hung open, revealing a toned body that radiated power, his piercing eyes locked onto my father like a predator sizing up its prey.

The man from outside, the one who had wanted to buy me, took a step back, his confidence wavering. "Colton," he said, clearing his throat. "Didn't know you were-"

Colton didn't even look at him.

He stepped inside, his boots heavy against the creaking floorboards. The house suddenly felt smaller, like it could barely contain the force of his presence.

My father laughed, though it came out nervous, forced. "Colton, man, I- I was just joking," he slurred, trying to play it off. "Didn't think you still wanted the damn brat after all these years."

Colton didn't answer.

Instead, he moved.

Fast.

Before my father could react, Colton's hand was wrapped around his throat, slamming him against the wall with a force that made the entire house shake. The bottle fell from his grip, shattering on the floor.

I gasped but quickly covered my mouth.

Dad clawed at Colton's wrist, his face turning red. "W-Wait-"

"You don't get to decide what happens to my Omega." Colton's voice was low, dangerous. His grip tightened, cutting off my father's strangled protests.

He leaned in, his breath slow, deliberate. "I was patient," he murmured. "I let you keep him because I wanted to see how far you'd fall. And look at you now-pathetic. Selling your own blood for scraps."

My father's legs kicked weakly, his eyes wide with panic.

I should have felt something.

Fear.

Anger.

Even relief.

But all I felt was numb.

I just stood there, watching.

Colton wasn't done. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You should've been grateful I let you breathe for this long."

Dad's face turned purple. His body twitched.

For the first time in my life, I realized-Colton wasn't just threatening him.

He was going to kill him.

And I didn't know if I wanted to stop it.

I thought Dad would beg for his life.

I thought he would promise to change, to do anything to escape the death wrapped around his throat.

But no.

Even with Colton's hand crushing his windpipe, even with his face turning red from lack of air, his only concern was money.

He clawed weakly at Colton's wrist, eyes wide with desperation. "I- I did everything to take care of him," he gasped, his voice hoarse. "As I promised-I kept him safe!"

Colton's grip didn't loosen.

Dad coughed, sputtering. "Go-go inside and see him yourself!" He gave a wild, desperate smile, the kind that made my stomach turn. "He's pretty and fresh, just like you always wanted!"

My breath hitched.

Colton's head tilted slightly, his eyes unreadable.

Dad took that as encouragement.

"Just give me my money!" he choked out. "A payment for all my sacrifices for that brat!"

Sacrifices?

A bitter laugh bubbled in my throat, but I swallowed it down.

Colton remained silent, but something in the air shifted. His fingers flexed, his jaw ticking as his gaze flickered toward me for the first time since stepping into the house.

I stiffened under the weight of his stare.

It wasn't like before.

When I was younger, I had feared him because of what I had heard-stories whispered in hushed voices about how he broke Omegas, how he ruined them.

But now?

The way he looked at me wasn't hungry.

It wasn't cruel.

It was something worse.

Possessive.

Like he had already claimed me.

A slow smirk tugged at his lips, and just like that, I knew-

Colton had no intention of giving my father anything.

Not money.

Not mercy.

Nothing.

I thought I had already felt the worst of my father's cruelty.

I was wrong.

Even as Colton's hand remained tight around his throat, even as he coughed and gasped for air, he still found a way to make me feel worthless.

"He's all yours!" Dad choked out, his voice desperate yet smug. "I don't need a br