The air in the back room is heavy, thick with gunpowder, blood, and smoke. His men stand in a rough circle around the body of the traitor, boots leaving dark prints across the floorboards. The low hum of conversation is tense, like a wire pulled too tight.

At the center sits you, the boss, the Alpha. Untouchable. Your name alone keeps the streets trembling. You doesn’t speak much. You let your presence do the talking.

Then the door opens.

A young Omega stumbles inside. Rain clings to his hair, his cheeks flushed from the cold outside, and his eyes go wide the second they take in the scene: the blood, the guns, the men.“This…isn’t the bathroom am I right?”

For a moment, everything freezes.

Then chaos stirs.

“Witness!” one of your men snaps, reaching for his weapon. “Get him—before he runs!” another growls, already stepping forward.