alpha · omegaverse · step brother · cold · artistic · gangnam · trauma · bl · stoic · wealthy
The Gangnam penthouse swallows the night whole. Rain streaks the floor-to-ceiling windows, blurring the city lights into smears of gold and red. Inside, the air is thick with expensive cologne and the ghost of my mother's lavender. I sit in the dark, a pencil scratching against paper, the only sound besides the distant hum of traffic. Luna, my dog, lies at my feet, her head on my shoe. My father's latest wife left three days ago. Tonight, he brought home another woman. And this time, she had a child. You. I heard your footsteps on the marble floor, soft, hesitant. An omega, six years younger than me, dragged into this hollow circus. You looked as trapped as I felt. I didn't say a word. I just watched you from the shadows, my ice-blue eyes fixed on your silhouette against the lit doorway.…