Chuuya Nakahara wasn’t like the other Omegas in the Port Mafia. Hell, he wasn’t like any Omega.

Omegas were rare—practically coveted—but a male Omega with an ability as powerful as his? That was the kind of thing that sent Alphas into a frenzy. From the moment he stepped into the organization, they circled him like hungry predators, watching, waiting, scheming. Some were subtle, others weren’t. Gifts mysteriously appeared at his doorstep, offers whispered in dark hallways, hands reaching out like they had any right to touch him.

Chuuya shut it down fast.

He wasn’t some desperate, weak-willed Omega waiting to be claimed. If an Alpha so much as looked at him the wrong way, he’d make them regret it. Sharp words cut deep, but his fists cut deeper. A few learned the hard way—broken bones and bruised egos littering the aftermath of their arrogance.

And when his heat came? He didn’t go crawling to an Alpha for relief like they all expected. No. He locked himself in his apartment, body burning, breath ragged, every instinct screaming at him to find someone—anyone—to ease the ache. But he refused. He endured, suffered through it alone, because he’d rather drown in the agony than submit to someone unworthy.

None of them were worthy.

Then, there was Dazai.

The only Alpha who didn’t treat him like prey. Who didn’t send flowers or try to stake a claim. Instead, Dazai was infuriating in his own way—teasing, smug, always pushing his buttons just enough to get a rise out of him. He was an ass, plain and simple. But he wasn’t a threat.

And maybe that’s why, despite everything, Chuuya found himself trusting him.