Chapter 1 — The Omega No One Saw Coming
St. Greystorm Academy was louder than Lawrence had imagined.
He kept his head down as he walked through the bustling courtyard, his footsteps quiet against the cobblestones. Alphas strutted confidently, their presence demanding attention. Betas laughed and shouted across the hallways, while omegas scuttled by, careful not to attract notice. Lawrence had spent years mastering invisibility, folding himself into shadows, keeping his beauty and scent hidden.
But St. Greystorm was different.
It wasn't just loud—it was sharp. Dangerous. Dominated by those who expected obedience, admiration, and fear. Lawrence tightened his grip on the strap of his bag. Just get to the office. Don't draw attention. Don't make a mistake.
He was almost at the main hall when it happened.
A collision.
Someone solid blocked his path, and his books went flying across the floor.
"I—I'm sorry—" Lawrence stammered, scrambling to pick up the papers.
The hallway seemed to hold its breath.
Lawrence looked up, and froze.
George Mathews.
Broad-shouldered, imposing, with eyes that could slice through steel, George was more than the top alpha of the school—he was the apex of power and influence. He walked like he owned the air itself, and now that he was standing so close, Lawrence could feel it press against him.
George's gaze didn't waver. It didn't soften. It simply… analyzed him.
Lawrence swallowed. "I-I'm Lawrence Peterson."
George repeated the name, a faint sound, like he was tasting it for the first time. His sharp gaze swept over Lawrence's form, lingering in a way that sent heat to the omega's cheeks.
"Why haven't I seen you before?" George asked, voice low and controlled, almost dangerous.
"I'm new," Lawrence whispered.
A pause. Then George stepped back. "Watch where you walk, omega."
The words were a warning, but something unspoken lingered in them. Lawrence's heart pounded. His hands shook slightly as he gathered his scattered papers.
He didn't notice at first that George had bent down, picking up the last sheet himself. When Lawrence finally looked, George's hand held it out, and for a brief moment, their fingers brushed. A shiver ran through him.
"Next time, look up," George said, straightening, his voice as calm as a blade. Then he walked away, leaving a ripple of silence behind him.
Lawrence stayed frozen. He could barely breathe. He hadn't even realized the crowd of students had parted around George, their whispers fading in the void left by his departure.
What… just happened?
As he bent to tuck the papers back into his bag, a shadow loomed behind him. George was back, waiting.
"You walk too quietly. I didn't hear you coming," he murmured.
Lawrence blinked, struggling to find words. "S-sorry…"
"Don't apologize again."
The command was soft but absolute, and Lawrence obeyed instantly. George's gaze lingered, studying him with a mixture of irritation and something else—something Lawrence couldn't name, and he feared to guess.
Then George brushed past him, shoulder grazing lightly, almost as if testing boundaries. Lawrence felt a rush of warmth and fear all at once.
By the time George disappeared again, Lawrence's heart was pounding so hard he could hear it over the chatter of the courtyard. He picked up his bag and hurried on, trying to convince himself that he was imagining things.
But he wasn't.
Everyone who had witnessed the exchange whispered to each other, their eyes wide. Even the students who tried not to notice stared anyway.
Lawrence's stomach churned. He wanted nothing more than to melt into the ground, to vanish entirely. But deep down, he knew one thing.
He had just caught the attention of George Mathews.
And some alphas… were not meant to notice omegas like him.