The Rejected Omega's Secret Royal Lycan Bloodline

Aden POV

The heavy oak door rebounded off the concrete wall with a sickening thud, but the sound barely registered over the roaring in my ears.

"Sylvia?" My voice cracked, betraying the devastating tremor in my chest. I stared at the girl I had spent the last two years loving, the girl I had scrubbed floors to buy gifts for.

Dixon Cooper didn't even flinch. A cruel, arrogant smirk spread across his handsome face. Instead of stepping away, he pressed his hips harder against her, deliberately releasing a suffocating wave of his Alpha pheromones. The scent of dark pine and dominance flooded the small room, a heavy, invisible weight designed to force an Omega like me to my knees.

I fought the urge to submit, my eyes locked on Sylvia. I needed her to explain. I needed her to tell me this was a mistake.

But Sylvia didn't look guilty. She looked annoyed.

She rolled her eyes, running a manicured hand down Dixon's muscular chest. "Oh, grow up, Aden," she scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. She inhaled deeply, burying her face in the crook of Dixon's neck. "God, do you have any idea what a real wolf smells like? His Alpha aura makes my *Inner Wolf* purr. You?" She turned her gaze back to me, her eyes cold and empty. "You smell like nothing. Like a pathetic human."

The words felt like a silver blade twisting in my gut.

"Two years," I choked out. "You said you loved me."

Sylvia let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "I needed a real Alpha, Aden. Someone who can actually *Shift*. Someone who can give me the *Marking* and make me a Luna. Not a scentless, wolfless puppy. Did you honestly think I'd settle for the bottom of the pack? You were just a bet to see how long I could stomach a loser."

Every syllable shattered whatever was left of my heart. The illusion of love evaporated, leaving behind a cold, hollow void. But that void didn't stay empty for long. A dark, ancient heat began to claw its way up my throat—a violent, predatory fury that felt entirely too massive for my frail body.

Dixon chuckled, his eyes dropping to the package tucked under my trembling arm. "I see Brennon played his part perfectly. I told him to make sure you delivered my new cleats right on time."

My breath hitched. Brennon. The extra shift. The fifty bucks. It was all a meticulously crafted stage just to break me.

Dixon reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp fifty-dollar bill. He flicked his wrist, letting the money flutter to the damp tile floor between us.

"Here's your payment, Omega," Dixon sneered, his eyes flashing with a cruel, golden light. "Go buy some scent-blockers, so no one has to smell your weakness."

The thread of my sanity snapped.

With a guttural roar that tore my vocal cords, I lunged at him. I didn't care that he was a trained Warrior. I didn't care that he was the future Alpha. The volcanic rage boiling in my blood demanded violence.

But I was still just a wolfless boy.

Before my fist could even connect, Dixon moved with terrifying, supernatural speed. His fist buried itself into my stomach with the force of a freight train. All the air violently left my lungs. As I doubled over, his knee slammed upward into my jaw.

The world spun into a blur of pain and blinding white light. I crashed hard onto the cold, wet tiles, tasting copper and bile.

Before I could even gasp for air, a heavy combat boot slammed down on the side of my head, pinning my cheek to the filthy floor. The pressure was agonizing, grinding my jawbone against the ceramic.

"Did you really think you could touch me, you piece of trash?" Dixon spat, his weight pressing down harder.

I heard the squeak of a locker opening, followed by the sharp, chemical smell of a permanent marker. Dixon leaned down. I thrashed, trying to free myself, but his boot was an immovable anchor. Rough hands grabbed the collar of my cheap white T-shirt, pulling it taut.

The marker squeaked loudly against the fabric across my chest.

"There," Dixon said, finally lifting his boot. "Now everyone will know exactly what you are."

I lay there, gasping, my vision swimming. Dixon grabbed Sylvia's hand. She stepped over my legs without a second glance, her heels clicking against the floor.

"Stay away from my future Luna, Omega," Dixon warned, his voice echoing in the hallway. "Or next time, I'll break your neck."

The heavy oak door swung shut, leaving me alone in the suffocating silence. I forced my heavy eyelids open and looked down at my chest. Scrawled in thick, black ink across my heart were two words: *WOLFLESS LOSER*.

The fifty-dollar bill lay just inches from my bleeding face. Deep within my marrow, that strange, terrifying heat pulsed wildly, fighting against the cage of my flesh, waiting for the midnight of my eighteenth birthday.