⚠️ Warning: This chapter contains explicit descriptions of violence and blood. Reader discretion is advised.
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One hour before the murder
One of life's constants is that, sooner or later, someone will tell you no. Every boundary must be intrinsically respected.
"Are you watching us?" Lucas asked directly.
"Just coincidences. But those pheromones… what are you doing here?" Raffael replied.
A short conversation stretched on; Raffael was an excellent talker. Without realizing it, Lucas lost track of time and, when he searched for Valentina with his eyes, he couldn't find her.
"I thought you two hated each other," someone said.
It was Lorenzo, appearing out of nowhere. The tone of the conversation began to shift, drifting into gossip. Talking about the past was the last thing Lucas wanted; he had good reason for that.
The anecdotes and teasing grew when someone very interesting joined them. It was the CEO—perhaps one of the evening's biggest prizes. But with his arrival, the circle widened, attracting the greed of many.
Some voices began to rise; Lucas instinctively tried to find the core of the problem, but he couldn't detect anything out of the ordinary. People were looking toward the bar, and he thought maybe someone unwanted had appeared.
"Want some?" someone asked.
It was common in gatherings like this; he wasn't surprised. On the contrary, he could sense how fast their hearts were beating, how their pupils were beginning to dilate. The symptoms were obvious to the naked eye, whether you were a beta or not.
"It's been a pleasure, I'm leaving," Lucas said, trying to make his way out.
"Hey, hey, why so fast? Let's play a little," someone called.
"I don't like adrenaline games," Lucas replied, annoyed.
Raffael shifted the conversation; after all, he had a goal to achieve and couldn't let the group split.
He pulled Lucas aside and explained something everyone knew by the book. Lucas looked out of it, searching everywhere as if he needed to escape.
Raffael thought of distracting him, maybe offering a drink to clear his mind. He needed him awake.
"I'll buy you a drink," Raffael said.
"How kind of you. You need something from me, don't you?" Lucas replied with his best smile.
"Am I that obvious?" Raffael said, winking toward the group.
Raffael led the way. The terrace was perhaps as large as the main hall. The atmosphere began to change; it could be seen in people's grimaces, in their glances, but especially in the way they covered their mouths.
"I forgot to ask if anyone wanted anything," Raffael said, nudging Lucas.
There was a scent in the air that was familiar yet unrecognizable. Something floral, or perhaps sweet, provocative, but definitely animalistic.
Raffael didn't relent; he wouldn't let Lucas advance, pushing him back instead. Something felt off; the situation between them grew tense.
"Someone's in heat… we need to give them space," Raffael said with a worried look.
That was when a name flashed through Lucas's mind. He, better than anyone, knew that anyone unable to control their pheromones would be branded indecent; after all, both omegas and alphas prided themselves on being able to control them.
When they returned, the group was more hyperactive than before; one only had to look into their eyes. Lorenzo was wrapped in the CEO's arms. And through Lucas's mind passed a phrase he'd heard many times: Prostitution of cordiality.
That phrase snapped him back to reality and reminded him that he had left her. He thought of calling, but when he pulled his phone from his pocket, he saw thirty-five missed calls. He inhaled sharply, and with it, a wave of tension flooded him.
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Phone call
"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? ARE YOU WITH SOMEONE ELSE? WHAT IF I HAD AN ACCIDENT?" Andrea shouted.
"Baby, calm down, I'm stuck with clients," Lucas replied, his voice breaking.
Complaint after complaint only made him want to hang up. He also noticed a couple of missed calls from Valentina and thought of calling her once Andrea finished scolding him.
"ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME? COME BACK RIGHT NOW, YOU HAVEN'T EVEN TAKEN YOUR MEDICATION," Andrea demanded.
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When the call ended, he realized he couldn't move his arm from the pain; the unconscious tension of gripping the phone had left him sweaty, annoyed, and drained.
This time he would leave without saying goodbye, slipping away in silence.
Without anyone noticing, acting as discreetly as possible, he headed for the bar.
When he arrived, he sensed that fragrance again; that familiar calm. He knew it wasn't just cologne.
"You're a beta, right?" someone asked.
Beta. Yes, he was a beta. The word echoed in his head. He inhaled deeply, and something in his body wanted to react. Sharp pangs hit his lower back, his legs tightened, and something began to tingle inside him.
That fragrance… now he remembered. It wasn't just any perfume; it was something he had felt before.
"Hahaha, will your eyes change like hers did? She looked like a damn dog," the stranger said.
Lucas swallowed hard, not thinking any further—he had to find her. But with every step he took, the scent shifted; he could feel its intensity, as if something were calling to him.
The hallway was empty. He inhaled desperately, as if he might lose the trail, biting his lips as saliva began to drip.
"Hey, beta, come back, you're ruining my business," Raffael said.
Lucas couldn't hear him. He followed the traces the scent left behind, inhaling again. His body burned; his hands sweated.
Raffael, like Lucas, was almost the same size, but one of them ended up crashing into a cold concrete wall between the crowd and the shadows.
"I thought you didn't like flour…" Raffael said sarcastically.
Lucas was strong, but Raffael wasn't weak. So many unknown feelings and symptoms bloomed, and a mixed scent forced its way through. It was Lucas.
Startled, Raffael let go. Lucas bolted toward the entrance but ran into the bodyguards.
"Don't let him out!" Raffael shouted.
Many believed only female betas experienced such symptoms, but nothing could be further from the truth; a male beta also had a shadow. He could feel, too.
Lucas was pinned by the bodyguards, and Raffael took the chance to frantically search his pockets until he found the neutralizers. With the guards' help, he forced Lucas to take the medication.
It didn't take long, but maybe it was the combined strength of the two bodyguards that finally made Lucas start to calm down.
"Aren't betas supposed to control themselves?" Raffael asked.
"Control myself?" Lucas replied.
Raffael thought he had seen two different versions of Lucas in less than an hour. He knew little about betas, but believed there wasn't much to understand anyway.
He didn't want to be linked to a beta. After all, to Raffael, Lucas was just bait for the shark. He signaled the security team to let him go; he needed a drink and company to calm down.
When the door opened, cries and sobs filtered in from somewhere.
Lucas immediately shut the door; the four of them exchanged glances, but curiosity won and Raffael moved Lucas aside. No one was in that kitchen—only pots releasing steam and knives scattered across the floor.
As Raffael stepped out, Lucas was shoved in return. The door behind them closed.
"Are you crazy? Damn alpha, they're going to skin us alive," Lucas said, searching for a knife.
"Calm down. I'll call the police," Raffael replied.
The police had already arrived; apparently someone had alerted them. As the two approached the main hall, the cries grew louder, retching spread from person to person, and fainting began to ripple through the crowd.
They joined a small cluster of onlookers, driven by the urge to know. They crouched like mischievous children, and through the legs of several people a body came into view.
It was the alpha—the hostess with striking red eyes. A kitchen axe was buried in her face, the torn skin laid bare, and a knife sunk deep into her stomach.
The body no longer moved, no longer breathed. No trace remained of that once-intense gaze, now fixed, empty, lost on a single point.
Blood kept flowing, thick and fresh, from her mouth and belly, soaking that exotic, provocative dress.
Her legs were spread, a thick black collar fastened to a chain that disappeared into Lake Zurich.
The body, motionless, was an anchor.
Both of them ran out; police, ambulances—chaos everywhere.
"LUCAS!!" Valentina shouted.
Valentina ran into Lucas's arms; he could sense the almost nonexistent essence left in her. He wanted to comfort her, but something no longer felt right.
The situation began to turn into a media spectacle, becoming a merciless circus. A perfect feast for scavengers of ratings.
Valentina wanted to go with Lucas, to talk to him, but he refused. His mind was fragmented; he began to feel stabbing pains in his temple under the pressure of the moment.
"Valentina, isn't Alex on his way to your house?" Raffael said.
Alex looked curiously at Raffael before confirming the statement. Valentina agreed, and the four of them decided to walk until they were as far from the venue as possible.
The first taxi to arrive was for Valentina and Alex. Then a second taxi pulled up.
"This one's mine," Lucas said.
"I'm coming with you," Raffael replied.
For a moment, Lucas hesitated, but chose to remain silent. The driver set off.
Silence. Neither of them spoke for almost the entire ride. There was nothing good or bad to say after what they had seen. Only abstract thoughts about human existence lingered.
When they reached Lucas's apartment building, they said goodbye for the first time in a polite, quick way.
"Talk later," Raffael said.
Before entering the building, Lucas took a deep, sharp breath, clenched his fists, then opened them, his gaze momentarily lost on some distant point.
Someone opened the door from the other side.
"Good evening."
"Hello? Where's the concierge?" Lucas asked.
"Oh, he quit. Lately he hadn't been feeling well, and apparently a neighbor said something to him… and he just couldn't take it anymore."