Chapter 2 NIGHTMARE

DENNY:

TEN HOURS AGO.

Cars pulled into the lot. I drove in last.

The school year had officially begun. Both new and returning students are buzzing with excitement, fresh haircuts, cleaner uniforms, and ready to dive into another semester of boring lectures.

At Midville College, students are forced into uniforms and bound by rules, as if we're still in high school. The most eyesore? The so-called lecture rooms are worse than high school classrooms. And yet, everyone seems to glow in this crappy environment.

Everyone but me. I hated it. And the rules? I've broken them all.

Yet, they keep me. The Management never lets me go. Like they know I'm doing everything I can to earn a no-returning letter, so instead, they hand me punishments that make sure I stay.

If only they understood how much it repulses me. The walls, the air, the pressure. It turns me into something I'm not. Every second behind this building feels like a thousand years in hell. And after what almost felt like a peaceful holiday, driving in here makes my skin crawl.

But home isn't better. Especially after the news my father woke me up with.

"They're back in town," he barked. "No more lying around. It's time to man up, Denny. The West must remain ours."

The only name that has haunted my father's existence is Corato.

The Coratos are the most powerful and wealthy hierarchy clan in the Territory. They own everything they lay claim to, forcefully or otherwise. Stories say their heir is even more brutal than his father; an Alpha who crushes anything that stands in his path.

The Coratos had been away for over fifteen years. Since they took over the South. But now that they are back, it means chaos. Not just for my father...but for me. I'll be dragged into a power struggle I never asked for. Forced to match the heir of a dynasty I couldn't care less about. A boy I haven't even seen, but have spent years learning of his power-thirst.

And frankly? I wasn't up for the ache.

I was still brooding when a sharp jolt from behind whipped my head into the steering wheel.

There is no just one peaceful place for me. Not school, not home, not in my head, not even inside my freaking car...because who the shît just crashed into it?

"What the hell?!" I roared, slamming the door open and charging toward the idiot who'd bent over my busted taillight. "Did you lose your sight over the holidays?!"

The student looked up, and for a split second, I froze.

New face. Striking. Firm. Almost too put together to belong in this rundown school. And handsome...in the kind of way that makes your instincts stir before your mind even catches up.

"Hi," he said, approaching closer. "Sorry. I'm terrible at driving."

His voice? Spectacular. Rich with confidence.

And for a moment, I felt something pulse deep inside me. Something I've buried for a long time. Something I've spent the entire holiday trying to suppress.

"Then you shouldn't be driving," I snapped, though my voice came out softer than I meant.

Milder than everyone had anticipated.

The students around us had paused to watch. I've got a reputation, you know-the school's undefeated bully, the unforgiving Alpha who doesn't tolerate bûllshît.

And yet, I didn't knock his tooth out. I just waved him off and turned back to my car.

No, you are wrong. I didn't let him go because he made an impact on me. He didn't... He isn't even my type. I am only trying to start the semester on a clean slate. That's all.

"How do I fix it?" he called after me. "I should fix my mistake."

"Don't be a Samaritan."

"I insist."

I closed my eyes, trying to block out his voice.

Challenging. Persistent. That's what he was. And if there's anything I hate more than competition...it's challenge.

I turned back at him, and he was standing, challengingly competitive. On an impulse, I lurched towards him, slamming my fist into his jaw. He blinked, stumbled, wide-eyed, to the ground.

"There," I said flatly, ignoring the gasps around us. "Now you've fixed it."

I returned to my car, grabbed my phone from the dashboard, and locked up, leaving my books behind without a care.

Then, just before walking off, I looked back at him, still sitting where I left him, calm and strangely unfazed.

"Happy new fvcking school year," I smirked.

***********

Nothing thrills my father more than hearing I've caused trouble.

He celebrates when I hit people. Wants me to be feared. Be the predator and not the prey. To him, I'm the Alpha he never was. The force that will destroy the Coratos, their businesses, and their empire.

But the truth?

I am no Alpha.

I am an Omega buried under years of lies, training, and muscle. A walking illusion. I've built this persona to survive, walked these halls pretending to be something I'm not, bruising people, dwelling in an undesirable sexual convoy, wearing confidence like war paint.

And I was counting down the days until I could escape. Finally, be free...live as who I really am.

But the Coratos are back...and that means no escape. Not now. Not ever.

"Denny," Max said, snapping me from my thoughts. "You need to see this."

I stood immediately, kicking my chair back so hard it smacked against the cupboard behind me.

Max isn't special, not to me. Not really. Just another Omega, except he is hopelessly in love with me.

His feelings? Not my problem.

However, Max is a useful informant. And if he's interrupting me, it must be serious, and I assure you, it is about to get physical.

I followed him out of the lecture room to the parking lot only to see my car in ruins. It was covered in paint. Obscene doodles. Dicks and splashes and insults smeared all over it.

"Let's check the cameras," Max offered, already furious.

"No need," I growled, gazing into the distance. "I know who the fvcker is."

No returning student would dare. This had to be him.

Max wasn't at school during the clash. Guess no one told him about it. It is the first day of resumption, and many things will be happening everywhere and anywhere. Stories will sink other stories.

But one story will scale the headline today: News of a dead student.

I stormed through lecture rooms, scanning faces until I spotted him exiting the admin office like he owned the place. Hands in pockets. Face muscles tightened, giving a domineering vibe.

I grabbed him by the collar and yanked him into the empty restroom.

"Bâstârd!" I shouted, driving a fist into his gut. He crashed to the ground, groaning.

But he wasn't scared. He looked right at me. Smiling.

I punched him again. And again. Drew blood from his nose, but he was still smiling.

Max burst in, eyes wide. "Let me handle this creep for you," he said, taking over to grip the dîckhêâd on his collar.

I don't need help to make the bâstârd pay for ruining my car, but Max always offers to help with anything.

"Oh? His lapdog now?" the dîckhêâd smirked, intending to provoke me or prove a silly point. "That's cute."

Whatever his intentions were, he succeeded because I am now very provoked.

"Leave," I said to Max, my voice dark and low.

"Denny?"

"Go, take care of my car. I've got this."

Max nodded slowly and left. I walked to the corner where the janitors keep their cleaning tools, pulled out a metal mop handle. Excellent beating pipes. And dragged it along the floor as I returned.

"What are you called?" I asked him, levelling the weapon.

He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his nose. "Jay," he said.

"So, Jaden, you think I'm too weak to handle you."

"Are you not?"

"We shall see about that."

I lifted the rod.

But in a blink, he disarmed me. Fast. Too fast. The rod was at my throat, and I was pinned against his body like a dâmn ragdoll.

"Well, Denny," he whispered in my ear. "It is not Jaden. It is Jason. Jason Corato. And happy fvcking introduction."