The Rejected Omega's Secret Royal Lycan Bloodline

Aden POV

The stench of stale beer and dried sweat clung to the bleachers of the Jork University Arena. I crushed another empty aluminum can and tossed it into my trash bag. Fifty bucks. That was what a day of cleaning up after the Black Moon Pack’s young Warriors got me.

Tomorrow was my eighteenth birthday—the day I prayed the Moon Goddess would finally grant me my *Inner Wolf*. But right now, I was just a "wolfless" Omega. I had no scent, no strength, and no respect. I was the bottom of the food chain. Still, I swallowed my pride and picked up another sticky cup. I needed the money. Sylvia’s birthday was coming up, and I wanted to buy her that silver necklace she’d been eyeing. She was the only one in this brutal world who didn't look at me like I was a disease.

The heavy double doors of the locker room banged open, shattering my thoughts.

Brennon Collins strutted out, flanked by his gang of Warriors. The air instantly thickened with their aggressive, musky pheromones—the scent of pure, unadulterated Alpha-complex arrogance.

"Hey, Omega!" Brennon barked.

Before I could turn, a foul-smelling, sweat-soaked sock hit me square in the face. The Warriors erupted into mocking laughter.

"Smell that?" Brennon sneered, dumping a massive pile of filthy, week-old gym clothes at my feet. "That’s what a real wolf smells like. Wash these, wolfless waste."

I clenched my jaw, my fingernails digging into my palms. Deep within my chest, a strange, dark heat flared—a violent, heavy pulse that felt entirely too big for my scrawny body. I forced it down, taking a slow breath. *For Sylvia,* I reminded myself.

"Fifty bucks," I muttered, staring at the floor.

Brennon scoffed. He pulled a crumpled fifty-dollar bill and a five from his pocket, letting them flutter onto the dirty floor right next to my worn-out sneakers. "There’s a package at the front gate for Dixon. Bring it to the Warriors' Changing Room. Consider the five a tip for being such a good little scentless puppy."

They shoved past me, their laughter echoing in the empty arena. I knelt, my knees touching the sticky floor, and picked up the cash.

Ten minutes later, with Dixon Cooper’s package tucked under my arm, I stood outside the Warriors' Changing Room. It was a semi-sacred space for the Pack's fighters, a place an Omega like me was strictly forbidden to enter. The air seeping from beneath the heavy oak door was thick with the scent of leather and male musk.

I raised my hand to push the door open, but a sound from inside froze the blood in my veins.

A muffled, breathy moan.

It was followed by a low, rumbling growl—a sound vibrating with dark, possessive Alpha energy. My heart dropped into my stomach. I knew that moan. I had heard it whispered against my neck just last night.

I leaned closer to the wood, my breath catching in my throat.

"Oh, Dixon..." Sylvia’s voice panted, laced with a sickeningly sweet submission I had never heard from her before. "You're a real Alpha. Not like that scentless, wolfless puppy..."

A wet, slapping sound echoed against the lockers.

"I can't wait until we can finally tell everyone he was just a stupid bet," she giggled, the sound driving a physical spike through my chest.

The world stopped spinning. Two years. Every extra shift I worked, every humiliation I swallowed to buy her gifts, every time I thought I actually meant something to someone—it was all a joke. A cruel, calculated bet to see how long she could string the pathetic Omega along.

The heartbreak shattered me, but it didn't leave an empty void.

Instead, a terrifying, volcanic fury erupted from the deepest marrow of my bones. It didn't feel like a human's anger. It felt ancient. Lethal. My vision edged with a predatory red haze.

Without thinking, I raised my leg and kicked the heavy oak door.

It exploded inward with a deafening crack, the metal hinges tearing from the wooden frame with a force I shouldn't have possessed. The door slammed violently against the concrete wall.

There they were. Dixon Cooper, the future Alpha of the Black Moon Pack, had my girlfriend pressed hard against the metal lockers. The air in the room was suffocating, thick with the sickening, slick scent of their mixed arousal. They froze, their eyes snapping toward the doorway to find me standing there, my fists trembling with a rage that was begging to be unleashed.