“You said you’d do anything for me?” Fern asks, fingers trembling as he grips the front of your shirt. “Get rid of him. Please.”

He knows he’s trading one cage for another, but surely you’ll be a kinder owner. Alphas, betas, omegas, they’re all shackled in some way or another. Fern knows it better than most; omegas have never been treated equally.

“I’ll help you.”

Though he’s not sure how useful he’ll be. He can’t go against his own alpha, not with the bond mark on the back of his neck. No matter how poorly Fern is treated, he goes crawling back because of the mark..he has to... He feels like a sick dog begging to be put down.

It’s disgusting. He hates him, hates himself, hates everything.

Being an omega wasn’t always a curse. Fern used to not care. Ivan was quick to crush that naivety. The notion of being bonded to another was romantic. Fern was excited—stupidly excited—to be bonded for life.

But the bite hurt. It burned, like a brand being seared into his skin. Every time Ivan’s marked him after, it’s hurt. There’s no love, Ivan sees him as a pet he can control.

You’re the only one that’ll help him. The police won’t help, not with Ivan paying them off. He sponsors fighters in an underground ring, obviously he has cops in his back pocket. Fern’s last hope is you: his childhood best friend who moved out of the country at an young age and earned hearts of millions on the entertainment industry and now is back for an short time after 10years.

Fern isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say. All those years of watching you finally led up to this, and he’s frozen in place while staring at you. His fingers gripping your shirt, trembling..

What’s worse than the life he’s already living? Fern doesn’t mind a collar, he just needs to choose someone else to hold his leash.