The Rejected Omega's Secret Royal Lycan Bloodline

Aden POV

Dixon’s cruel, predatory grin widened as he stepped toward me, eager to redirect the humiliation of his empty wallet onto an easier target. He gestured broadly to the gleaming glass displays and the pristine white marble of Sanderson Profumeria.

"This place reeks of power, Omega," Dixon sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. He deliberately pushed his dark pine pheromones toward me, trying to force my submission. "It must be suffocating for someone scentless like you. Go back to your trash cans; that's the only scent you'll ever be able to afford."

Beside him, Sylvia wrinkled her nose. She looked at me not with pity, but with raw, undisguised disgust, as if I were a cockroach that had just scurried across her designer shoes.

Yesterday, their words would have crushed me. Today, the dormant Lycan in my blood merely let out a low, calculating rumble. I didn't cower. I didn't look away. I walked right past Dixon’s broad shoulders, ignoring his Alpha posturing entirely, and stopped directly in front of the glass counter.

I pointed to the velvet pedestal under the spotlight. "I'll take the *Liquid Diamond*."

The snobbish female sales associate blinked, her synthetic smile twisting into a hard sneer. She took a subtle breath, confirming my absolute lack of scent, and crossed her arms. "Sir, this fragrance is crafted to amplify a dominant wolf's pheromones. On... you... it would be like putting a crown on a stray dog. Pointless."

I didn't argue. I reached into the pocket of my faded gray hoodie, pulled out the heavy, black Centurion Card, and placed it coldly on the glass counter.

Dixon barked a harsh, mocking laugh that echoed through the boutique. "A black card? You really expect us to believe a wolfless trash collector has a Centurion Card? It's a fake."

Sylvia’s eyes narrowed with venomous spite. She couldn't stand the idea that the boy she had discarded might dare to pretend he was anything more than dirt. She turned sharply toward the uniformed Pack Warrior standing on duty near the entrance.

"He's disturbing the future Alpha of the Black Moon Pack," Sylvia announced loudly, her voice shrill with malicious intent. "If his payment fails, he's not just a fraud, he's a challenger. You know the Pack law for dealing with insolent Omegas."

The Warrior’s eyes darkened. He stepped forward, his heavy boots thudding against the marble, his hand resting menacingly on his silver-tipped baton. The threat of violence hung thick in the air. Everyone in the store—the associate, the security, my ex-girlfriend, and my tormentor—waited eagerly for my destruction.

The sales associate picked up the heavy metal card with trembling, hesitant fingers. She swiped it through the terminal.

The machine processed. The silence in the boutique was absolute, broken only by the rapid, arrogant beating of Dixon's heart.

*Beep.*

The screen flashed a bright, undeniable green.

*Payment Approved: $300,000.00.*

The associate’s jaw practically unhinged. The color drained from her perfectly contoured face, leaving her looking like a ghost. Dixon’s mocking laughter died instantly in his throat, his golden eyes bulging as he stared at the terminal. Sylvia froze, her mouth slightly open, her brain completely short-circuiting at the impossible reality.

"S-sir," the associate stammered, her voice trembling with sudden, terrified reverence. She quickly boxed the perfume, her hands shaking so badly she nearly dropped it. "Your... your purchase."

I took the velvet box from her hands. The room was dead silent as I turned and walked slowly toward Sylvia.

Her eyes widened. A flicker of greedy, desperate hope suddenly replaced her shock. She thought I was still that pathetic, lovesick puppy. She thought I had just spent a fortune to win her back. As I extended the box toward her, she instinctively reached out, her manicured fingers brushing the velvet.

I opened my hand.

The box plummeted. It hit the marble floor with a sharp, explosive crash.

Purple liquid and shattered glass sprayed across the pristine white tiles, splashing violently onto Sylvia's bare legs and designer heels. The overwhelmingly potent scent of Moonpetal extract flooded the room, thick and suffocating.

Sylvia shrieked, jumping back.

I looked down at her, my voice dropping to a glacial, commanding octave that sent a visible shiver down her spine. "A scent to cover up the reek of desperation. On the house."

I didn't wait to see the furious, humiliated flush creeping up Dixon's neck. I turned my back on their stunned, pale faces and walked toward the exit, my worn-out sneakers crunching satisfyingly over the shattered glass of the *Liquid Diamond*.