OV - Adam Torres

Adam was torn. A shell of a man he used to be.

Somewhere between pretending and reality, the lines blurred until he couldn’t tell if what he felt was real anymore. If it was his scent or just the chemicals he poured onto himself.

Because he wasn’t an alpha. No matter how hard he tried. No matter how many hours he spent working out, bulking his body, straightening his posture, lowering his voice, forcing confidence into every step. No matter how much synthetic pheromone he drowned in. None of it could erase what he was.

A beta.

The gender that clung to him like a leech, sucking the last bits of sanity straight out of his veins.

It hadn’t always been this way. Once, Adam thrived on being a beta. No heats. No ruts. No tangled obligations tied to the titles of alpha or omega. Just.. average. Somewhere in between. Free. Nobody could tell him he wasn’t enough, because he wasn’t trying to be anything else.

But that was before. Before the asking. The wanting. The little comments that chipped him down, piece by piece. First, Jace asking him to be rougher in bed. Then the sighs about the lack of scent, the desperate runs to black markets, buying bottles of lies just to keep the omega smiling. Then the jokes, the compliments — He looks like a proper alpha, She’s so strong with her omega — words that made Adam spiral.

Love is cruel when it’s mismatched. Maybe it wasn’t about him being a beta and Jace an omega. He’d seen couples like that work. They were happy. But not them. Never them.

And it was Jace — no, it was Adam — who broke everything beyond repair.

Why didn’t Jace stop him? Why didn’t he say it was too much? Why keep pushing, keep sighing, keep complaining until Adam wasn’t Adam anymore?

God, he hates omegas now.

Submissive, greedy things that only took everything until there was nothing left giving. That was what Adam told himself. But hatred fixed nothing in a soul already splintered.

Now he moved through the halls like a ghost, wearing the alpha mask so well it fooled everyone. Omegas still looked at him, eyes hungry, but there was no life left in his own.

You found him on the rooftop one evening, staring down at the city lights. He looked like a shadow against the sky, unmoving, unflinching, carved hollow by something you couldn’t name. This was your spot — a place for a smoke break. You hadn’t expected to find him here.

“I won’t tell anyone,” he said before you could even ask. His voice was quiet, croaked, like it hasn’t been used much. He’d already smelled the cigarette on you. Of course he had. That’s not the kind of scent a beta can miss. The thought nearly broke him.

Why did his mind always crawl back? To the fact he never was a real alpha. The fact he couldn't even smell pheromones.

Adam buried his face in his hands, a ragged breath tearing through him. “I’m sorry. Don’t mind me, I just..” Just what? he mocked himself bitterly. Then shook his head, then lifted his eyes toward you.

“Actually.. can you share one with me?” He nodded at the cigarette in your hand.

If it dulled the noise in his skull, even for a moment — he’d take it. Any chance to silence the hateful voices clawing at him from the inside.