Rain hammered Tokyo, blurring neon into streaks of color across the slick streets. I sat in the back of a black SUV, trapped between two of De Luca's men—silent, sharp in their suits, sunglasses hiding their eyes even in the dark. The wipers beat like a countdown, each swipe pulling me closer to my fate.
I wasn't being married. I was being sold.
And the man waiting behind those gates was no husband. He was a legend whispered through Tokyo's underworld—blood on his hands, ice in his veins. My father called this survival. I called it betrayal.
Two things became clear the moment I first saw Alessio De Luca. One: he was the most dangerous man I'd ever met. Two: I'd died by his hands a thousand times before. And this time… I was his husband.
***
Two months ago, Kenji Nakamura—my father, my blood—gambled away everything. Our home. Our safety. Our future.
My father's greed destroyed everything. He called it a "business alliance" with the De Lucas—the Rome syndicate's Tokyo branch. Old money, older violence. Their power reached from Italy's ruins to Japan's skyscrapers, and my father thought he could dance with them without paying the price.
He was wrong.
When the debts crushed him, when there was no money left to bleed, And when the De Luca came to collect, the solution was simple: me.
A wedding, they called it. A union sealed with blood instead of bullets. My father didn't hesitate when they gave him the choice between me and my sister Emily. He never hesitated when it came to me.
Because I was the shame.
An omega. Male. Unwanted. The Nakamura line expected alphas—dominant, unbreakable—or betas, steady and neutral. But me? Weak. Submissive. Fertile. A mistake that should never have been born.
He hid me my whole life. Chemical inhibitors kept my nature locked away, my scent smothered. Twenty-two years of being invisible, of being told I should be grateful for existing at all. "You should be happy you're useful for once," he spat when he signed me away.
Useful. Like a commodity.
The De Lucas had accepted without a second thought.
And Alessio De Luca—the cold-blooded Italian don whispered about in every corner of the underworld—had signed the contract himself.
That's why I was here now. Dressed in black, not white. Not a groom, not a husband, but an offering.
The SUV's window showed me back my reflection. People always mistook me for a female—delicate, fragile, wrong. A face too soft for the world I was being dragged into: heart-shaped, with hazel eyes that burned even when everything else in me had been broken.
My father saw weakness. Strangers saw fragility. But I knew there was steel under the porcelain, and if Alessio De Luca thought I would shatter easily, he'd learn the hard way.
I watched the city through the glass as dawn crept in, the rain pounding hard against the windows while thunder rumbled like a warning. Every crack of lightning felt like the universe was screaming at me to turn back. But there was no going back. The contract was signed, and if I even tried to run, they'd find me—and I'd pay for it.
The SUV slowed to a stop, and my stomach twisted painfully. The massive iron gates opened, silent but menacing, like the jaws of some hungry predator. Beyond them stood the De Luca mansion—huge, dark, and intimidating. Its black stone walls were draped in ivy, the golden lights in its windows glowing like watchful eyes. It was beautiful in a way, but the kind of beauty that could kill you.
The guards opened my door, and the cold rain instantly soaked through my suit, making it stick to my skin. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt, every nerve screaming at me to run while I still could. But there was no running from Alessio De Luca. Not now. Not ever.
****
The interior was stunning, but in a way that made my skin crawl. The kind of beauty that felt sharp, dangerous.
My father's clan sat on the left side of the hall, while the De Lucas occupied the right. I scanned the room, but my so-called groom was nowhere in sight. I stood near one of the tall marble pillars like a sacrificial lamb, every pair of eyes fixed on me.
That's when I spotted my little sister, Emily. Her pale face said everything she couldn't. She didn't want this for me—none of it. She tried giving me a small, shaky smile, and I forced one back, even though my hands trembled. I told myself it wasn't fear, but my body knew better.
"The Lord has arrived," one of the De Luca servants announced.
My heart nearly leapt out of my chest. I swallowed hard, forcing down the rising bile. No matter what, I couldn't let him see fear on me. Not him.
And then the atmosphere shifted instantly, like the air itself bent around his presence. The room went dead silent as everyone stood, their movements sharp, almost instinctive, like they feared something more than death itself.
Alessio De Luca.
I'd seen him in newspapers, interviews, splashed across headlines—but seeing him in person was something else entirely. He was the kind of man who made people stop breathing just by walking into a room.
The first thing I noticed was his height. He had to be at least six feet tall, his jet-black hair slightly tousled, brushing the tops of his sharp eyebrows. His eyes—grey, cold, unreadable—looked like they could strip a person bare without touching them. His features were perfectly sculpted, the kind of face you'd swear belonged to a fallen god. Broad shoulders, lean frame, precise movements.
I hated myself for noticing it, but damn… he was perfect. Perfect in the way fire is beautiful right before it burns you alive.
He walked with a composed, almost lazy confidence, like the entire room existed just to make way for him. His aura carried weight, reaching me before he did, and I had to force myself to stand tall, even as my throat tightened.
And then, without even glancing at me, he took his place. He didn't want to be here. I could see it, feel it. And yet… he signed the contract. Just like I did.
The ceremony went on, meaningless vows recited, traditions performed like a scripted play neither of us wanted a part in.
Then his voice cut through the silence.
"Kneel."
Cold. Sharp. Final. Like he wasn't asking—he was ordering.
Something inside me snapped. My omega instincts screamed at me to submit, to lower my head, but my pride burned hotter. My jaw clenched, anger licking up my spine.
I tilted my head, forcing a smirk I didn't feel.
"Why? You planning to jerk off here in front of everyone?"
For the first time, Alessio De Luca looked at me. Really looked. Those icy grey eyes met mine, and instead of anger, there was… amusement. A dangerous, mocking spark.
"The Nakamuras sold me a stubborn one," he said casually, like he was commenting on the weather.
Sold.
That word dug under my skin like glass splinters. My fists curled at my sides.
I stepped closer, my voice low but steady, each word deliberate.
"Correction, De Luca—my father sold me. I'm not yours. You just rented me."
His eyes darkened slightly, but his smirk only grew, sharp and knowing, like he'd just found his favorite game.
This was going to be a very long night.
Hi author here(◕ᴗ◕✿),
In this story, Male omegas are often viewed as inferior and treated with disdain because of their delicate nature. In a society that prizes strength and dominance, their feminine features and natural fertility make them targets of prejudice and rejection. Considered fragile and submissive, they are frequently looked down upon and stripped of status.
To survive in such a harsh world, many, though few male omegas rely on chemical inhibitors—medications designed to suppress their secondary gender traits. These inhibitors prevent the onset of heat and mask their pheromones, making it harder for alphas to sense them. It's both a shield and a necessity, allowing them to blend in and avoid unwanted attention.
I hope this explanation clears things up.
Thank you for taking the time to read.
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