Strong V.S. Weak Son | 🐺

The Omegaverse—a brutal world balanced on instinct, bloodlines, and hierarchy. Alphas ruled from the top with sharpened fangs and iron authority. Betas filled the spaces in between. Omegas… endured. Every hybrid carried traces of the animal within them—ears twitching at distant sounds, tails betraying emotion, instincts clawing beneath skin. Predators dominated society while prey hybrids survived by lowering their heads and praying not to be noticed.

The wealthiest families guarded their bloodlines obsessively. Predator married predator. Wolf to wolf. Tiger to tiger. Fox to fox. They claimed it preserved strength, purity, power. In reality, it was fear—fear of weakness, fear of anything different.

And in the frozen outskirts of northern Russia, far from the cities and their politics, you lived alone.

An Arctic fox hybrid.

The world called your kind elegant—white fur, pale hair, icy eyes—but elegance meant nothing when winter swallowed entire villages whole. Since your grandmother’s death when you were thirteen, survival had become routine. The small farm she left behind sat buried beneath snowdrifts nearly year-round, smoke curling weakly from the crooked chimney. Yet somehow, against impossible odds, life still grew there.

Rows of winter vegetables thrived beneath heated glass frames you repaired yourself every season. Herbs hung drying by the windows. Lanterns glowed warm against the endless blizzard outside.

It was peaceful.

Too peaceful.

You hummed quietly while brushing snow from a greenhouse roof, the old tune your grandmother used to sing during storms. Your fluffy white tail swayed lazily behind you as icy wind nipped at your cheeks.

Then headlights appeared.

Your ears shot upright.

Black vehicles tore through the snow like wolves charging prey, engines roaring loud enough to shake the ground beneath your boots. One car became three. Three became six. A massive convoy surrounded your little home within seconds.

Panic twisted in your chest.

The center vehicle stopped directly in front of the farmhouse.

Its door opened slowly.

First came an older Alpha, tall and broad shouldered, silver hair slicked neatly back. A horrific scar stretched across his face from brow to jaw, yet his expression remained calm. Beside him stepped a woman wrapped in white fur, graceful and composed, her pale eyes sharp enough to cut glass.

Then came the younger man.

And your breath caught.

Arctic fox.

The same ears. The same tail. The same snow-white features.

Only colder.

Much colder.

He stared at you like he was assessing livestock.

You blinked nervously before forcing a tiny wave. “O-Oh… hello…”

The younger Alpha said nothing.

Your instincts screamed.

You slowly stepped backward—

—and collided with someone behind you.

A large hand grabbed your arms instantly.

“Wait—!”

You were dragged forward through the snow, ears flattening against your head in terror.

“Easy now,” the scarred Alpha said smoothly. “No one intends to hurt you.”

The younger man finally spoke, voice low and emotionless.

“They’re smaller than I expected.”

Humiliation burned through you.

“I-I don’t understand what’s happening…”

The woman approached first, surprisingly gentle as she brushed snow from your shoulder. “Poor thing,” she murmured. “Living all alone out here…”

Your tail curled tightly around your leg.

“Who are you people?”

The scarred Alpha gave a slight bow of his head.

“Orion Volkov.”

The woman smiled faintly. “Neva Volkov.”

Finally, icy blue eyes locked onto yours.

“Bylur.”

The name alone felt heavy.

Dangerous.

Then Orion spoke the words that shattered your life forever.

“You’ll be coming with us.”

“What?! No—I can’t leave—this is my home!”

“It was your home,” Bylur corrected coldly.

You struggled immediately, but the grip on your arms tightened painfully.

“Please! Let me go!”

No one listened.

The farmhouse disappeared behind black tinted windows as the convoy drove into the storm.

And you never saw your grandmother’s home again.

The following weeks blurred together like a nightmare.

Massive estates.

Tailors measuring you endlessly.

Servants bathing you.

Jewelry forced around your neck.

Contracts signed without your understanding.

And then—

Marriage.

You barely remembered the ceremony itself. Just cold marble floors, endless expensive flowers, and Bylur standing beside you without warmth in his expression.

Your new husband.

An Alpha feared throughout Russia.

You learned quickly the Volkov family wasn’t simply wealthy.

They were mafia.

Powerful predator families controlled entire cities from the shadows—wolves, snow leopards, bears, ravens. The Volkovs stood near the top, Arctic foxes known for intelligence and cruelty rather than brute force.

You were chosen for one reason only.

Bloodline.

That truth became unavoidable the moment you discovered you were pregnant.

You sat frozen in disbelief while Neva smiled softly across the dining table.

“A blessing,” she called it.

Bylur only nodded once. “Good.”

Months later, twins were born.

Yule and Blaine.

From infancy they were opposites.

Blaine rarely cried, watching everything with eerie calm even as a toddler. His icy eyes mirrored Bylur’s perfectly. Yule, however, clung to you constantly. Gentle. Emotional. Soft-hearted.

Bylur despised it.

“Weakness gets people killed,” he would say coldly whenever Yule cried.

Now years later, snow blanketed the massive training gardens behind the mansion. Guards lined the walls while frost covered the iron fencing.

You stood beside Bylur silently, anxiety twisting your stomach.

He looked irritated just being present.

In the center of the garden stood your sons.

And kneeling before them—

—a trembling bunny hybrid servant.

Yule’s ears flattened instantly.

Blaine remained expressionless.

“Kill her, Yule,” Bylur ordered calmly.

The bunny hybrid gasped.

Your heart dropped.

“Bylur—” you whispered.

“Silence.”

His icy gaze never left Yule.

“Do it now. Blaine steps in if your brother proves pathetic again.”

Yule stared at the knife in his hands, shaking violently. “F-Father…”

“She betrayed the family.”

The bunny hybrid sobbed quietly. “Please… please don’t…”

Yule looked ready to cry himself.

“I can’t…”

Disgust crossed Bylur’s face instantly.

“Pathetic.”

Blaine stepped forward immediately, taking the blade from his brother without hesitation.

But before he could move—

Yule suddenly grabbed his arm.

“No!”

The entire garden fell silent.

Yule stood trembling in front of the bunny hybrid protectively, tears filling his pale eyes.

“She’s scared…”

Bylur’s expression darkened dangerously.

And for the first time in years—

you saw genuine fury in your husband’s eyes directed at his own son.

The Omegaverse—a world ruled by instinct, hierarchy, and bloodlines. Alphas stood at the top, powerful predators blessed with overwhelming dominance and sharpened senses. Betas filled society’s middle ground. Omegas existed beneath them all, softer by nature and often treated more like possessions than people. Every hybrid carried pieces of the animal inside them—tails swaying with emotion, ears twitching at sound, instincts clawing beneath skin.

And in this world, predators ruled everything.

The richest families came from powerful bloodlines—wolves, snow leopards, ravens, bears, Arctic foxes. Most married within their own species to “preserve purity.” They claimed mixed blood created weak or unstable children, though everyone knew it was simply another way the elite controlled power.

Far away from those cruel cities, deep in the frozen outskirts of Russia, you lived alone.

An Arctic fox hybrid.

After your grandmother died when you were thirteen, the small snow-covered farm became yours. It was isolated, hidden between forests and endless white fields. Winters lasted nearly the entire year, yet somehow your greenhouse still bloomed with life under your careful hands.

You hummed softly while checking frost-covered plants, your fluffy white tail swaying gently behind you. The song was old—one your grandmother used to sing while braiding your hair beside the fireplace.

For once, everything felt peaceful.

Then engines shattered the silence.

Your ears shot upright instantly.

Black vehicles burst through the snowstorm, tires crunching violently across the frozen ground. One after another, armored SUVs surrounded your little farm until headlights illuminated the entire property.

Panic flooded your chest.

The center vehicle stopped directly before the farmhouse.

Its doors opened slowly.

An older Alpha stepped out first—tall, broad, silver-haired. A massive scar stretched across his face, yet his posture remained calm and refined. Beside him came a woman wrapped in white fur, elegant and beautiful despite the coldness hidden behind her eyes.

Then came the younger man.

And your breath caught.

Arctic fox.

The same snow-white hair. The same pale eyes. Thick fox ears tipped in black twitched slightly atop his head while his enormous tail moved slowly behind him.

He looked terrifyingly beautiful.

You blinked nervously before offering a tiny wave. “O-Oh… hello?”

The younger Alpha simply stared at you.

Cold.

Unreadable.

Your instincts screamed.

You carefully stepped backward—

—and crashed into someone behind you.

A large hand immediately grabbed your arms.

“H-Hey—!”

You were dragged forward through the snow, panic rising as your ears flattened tightly against your head.

“Easy now,” the scarred Alpha said calmly. “No one wishes to hurt you.”

“I-I don’t know who you are!”

The woman approached first, her expression softening slightly. “Poor thing… living alone out here.”

The older Alpha gave a slight nod. “Orion Volkov.”

The woman smiled faintly. “Neva Volkov.”

Finally, icy blue eyes met yours.

“Bylur.”

Even his voice felt cold enough to freeze you.

You tried pulling away desperately. “Please let me go! This is my home!”

Bylur tilted his head slightly.

“Not anymore.”

And just like that, your life ended.

You were shoved into the black vehicle while snow swallowed the farmhouse behind you.

You never saw it again.

The following weeks felt unreal.

Massive estates.

Servants dressing you.

Jewelry clasped around your throat.

Endless rules.

Then marriage.

You barely remembered the ceremony itself. Expensive flowers. Marble floors. Wealthy predators staring at you like something purchased rather than loved. Bylur stood beside you dressed entirely in black, expression cold and distant.

Your husband.

Eventually, you learned the truth.

The Volkov family was one of the most feared mafia bloodlines in Russia, working alongside other powerful predator families to slowly take control of the country from the shadows.

And you?

You had simply been useful.

One night you sat curled nervously beside Bylur on one of the mansion couches while snow fell outside towering windows. Though emotionally distant, his large tail rested around your waist possessively while he stroked your hair absentmindedly.

Orion drank whiskey nearby.

Neva quietly sipped tea.

Finally, unable to take the silence anymore, you whispered, “Why did you choose me…?”

Bylur didn’t answer immediately.

“You carried compatible blood.”

Your stomach twisted painfully.

“You kidnapped me for children…?”

Orion chuckled darkly. “The Volkov line must continue.”

You looked down at your hands silently.

Bylur’s tail tightened slightly around you.

“You’ll live comfortably here,” he said flatly. “That is more than most Omegas receive.”

Comfortable.

Like a pet.

Months later, you gave birth to twins.

Blaine and Yule.

Despite being identical in appearance, they couldn’t have been more different.

Blaine inherited everything cruel from his father. He was cold, manipulative, and frighteningly intelligent even as a child. He enjoyed seeing others uncomfortable and copied Bylur constantly.

Yule was gentle.

Too gentle.

He cried when animals were hurt. Apologized too much. Clung to your side whenever he was frightened.

Bylur hated it.

“Weakness gets people killed,” he would say coldly whenever Yule showed emotion.

As years passed, Bylur’s disappointment became cruelty. Punishments. Harsh training. Endless criticism. Blaine eagerly joined in, enjoying the power he held over his softer twin.

Worst of all, Bylur slowly forced distance between you and Yule.

“No speaking to him unless instructed.”

“You comfort him too much.”

“He needs to harden.”

Every order shattered your heart further.

Now the family sat together in one of the mansion’s many luxurious living rooms. Snow drifted beyond enormous windows while soft music played quietly in the background. Expensive tea and delicate pastries covered the table.

Orion read the newspaper calmly.

Neva embroidered silently.

Bylur sat beside you, one arm resting lazily against the couch while his tail curled tightly around your wrist like a restraint.

Across from you sat the twins.

“Yule,” Neva said softly, “pour more tea for your father.”

Yule immediately stood. “Y-Yes, grandmother…”

His hands were already trembling.

Because Blaine and Bylur were staring directly at him.

Watching.

Judging.

Waiting for failure.

Yule carefully reached for the porcelain teapot, ears pinned nervously against his fluffy white hair.

“Don’t spill it this time,” Blaine mocked quietly.

Yule swallowed hard. “I-I won’t…”

“You always do.”

The room suddenly felt suffocating.

You noticed Yule’s hands shaking harder and instinctively leaned forward. “Yule, sweetheart, slow dow—”

Bylur’s tail tightened painfully around your wrist.

“Don’t interfere.”

Fear clenched your chest.

Yule’s breathing became uneven under the pressure of their stares. The teacup rattled violently against the saucer.

Then—

CRASH.

The teapot slipped from his hands and shattered across the marble floor, boiling tea splashing everywhere.

Silence.

Yule froze instantly, horror filling his pale blue eyes.

“I-I’m sorry…”

Blaine burst into laughter.

“So pathetic.”

Before Yule could react, Blaine grabbed the front of his shirt violently and slammed him onto the marble floor.

Yule cried out softly.

“Blaine—!” you gasped instinctively, trying to stand.

But Bylur’s massive tail snapped around your arm tightly, yanking you back against the couch.

“Sit down.”

You stared at him in disbelief.

“Bylur, he’s hurting him!”

“And?” he replied calmly.

A wicked grin slowly spread across his face as he leaned back comfortably, watching the scene unfold like entertainment.

On the floor, Blaine shoved Yule down harder.

“Can’t even pour tea right,” Blaine sneered. “Omega freak.”

Yule’s ears flattened completely as tears streamed down his face. “I-I tried…”

“You’re embarrassing.”

You struggled against Bylur’s tail desperately. “Please stop this!”

But Bylur only tightened his hold.

“Yule needs to learn,” he said coldly, icy eyes never leaving his youngest son trembling on the floor. “Pain is the only thing weak creatures understand.”