His Defiant Omega's Secret Double Life

Dorian Sterling POV:

A sharp, blinding pain lanced through my skull, jerking me awake. A heavy, suffocating hungover feeling pressed down on my chest, making it hard to draw a full breath. I slowly opened my eyes, my vision blurring for a second before coming into focus. The unfamiliar ceiling and the all-too-familiar, ostentatious layout of the Hilton presidential suite made me frown deeply.

Last night's memories were a chaotic mess of shattered glass, flashing in disjointed fragments.

I remembered sitting in the VIP lounge, drinking a glass of vintage bourbon with Tucker Hicks, the VP from Apex Industries. Then, an unnatural, scorching heat had suddenly consumed my body, burning through my veins like liquid fire.

I was drugged.

The realization turned my gaze to absolute ice. My inner wolf snarled violently in my head, pacing back and forth, completely enraged at the humiliation of being fooled by a cheap chemical aphrodisiac. As the most powerful Alpha in Silver Creek City, no one dared to pull such a suicidal stunt on me.

I sat up, the heavy duvet falling away. The other side of the king-sized bed was empty, but the deeply rumpled sheets and a faint, lingering scent proved someone else had been here. It was a vague, calming scent I couldn't quite place, something fresh, yet drowned out by the sterile smell of the hotel and the lingering metallic tang of the drug. It brought a strange, fleeting sense of peace to my wolf, a peace that was instantly obliterated by the fury of being manipulated.

A sharp knock sounded at the heavy oak door. I pulled on a dark silk bathrobe, tying it loosely around my waist, and stalked over, opening the door just a crack. My Gamma, Kasey Mckay, stood outside, his expression dead serious.

"Alpha," Kasey's voice was respectful but taut with tension. "I have locked down the entire hotel. My men are currently investigating the security footage to find out who dared to drug you. Also... Tucker Hicks is waiting in the lobby downstairs. He has been pacing for an hour, begging for an audience with you. Do you want to see him?"

"Tucker Hicks?" I frowned, the name feeling distant before the memory of that pathetic, greedy man surfaced. I let out a cold, mocking sneer that echoed in the quiet room. "That bloodsucking parasite. He used a life-saving favor to sell his daughter to me three years ago, and now he wants to sell her again to fix his current financial mess? How huge does he think his face is, assuming I will tolerate his endless greed? Or does he think his precious daughter is made of gold and can always fetch a good price?"

I ran a hand through my messy hair, my voice dripping with absolute disgust. "Tell him to get lost. I am not a charity, nor am I a recycling bin for his worthless daughter. I won't see him. If he doesn't leave, throw him out."

"Yes, Alpha," Kasey nodded immediately, stepping back to execute the order.

I shut the door with a loud thud and walked into the luxurious marble bathroom. I turned on the shower, letting the freezing cold water stream down my tense muscles to clear the remaining fog in my head. But damn it, as the water cascaded over me, my traitorous mind shamefully replayed the feeling of the woman beneath me last night.

I remembered the soft, flawless texture of her skin, her tight, yielding body, the way she perfectly molded to my every aggressive thrust, and her silent, trembling tears. She had felt incredibly, frustratingly perfect. The memory sent a sudden, unwanted surge of heat straight to my groin. It left me thoroughly frustrated and enraged. Whoever she was, a spy, a cheap escort, or a trap set by Tucker Hicks, I would find her and make her pay for playing me.

Kira Beaumont POV:

I lay completely frozen under the heavy duvet in the bedroom, my face draining of all color. I had woken up before him, my entire body aching as if I had been repeatedly run over by a truck. My thighs were sore, and my neck burned where his possessive lips had claimed me. But I was trapped by my own physical exhaustion, pretending to be asleep when he got up.

Hearing his cruel, mocking words through the slightly open bathroom door felt like a brutal physical blow to my chest.

"Worthless daughter." "Recycling bin." "Sell."

Every single word he spat out was a poisoned dagger. If he found out that the daughter being "sold" was currently lying naked in his bed, bearing his marks, the word "sell" in his mouth would be infinitely more sarcastic and humiliating.

For a second, the naive Omega inside me whimpered in pain, hurt by the rejection of her Mate. But that weakness was instantly incinerated by a roaring fire of humiliation and rage. In his eyes, I wasn't even a human being; I was nothing but a transactional object, a cheap pawn.

I forced my aching muscles to move, pushing past the pain. I slipped into my torn dress, my hands trembling, not from fear, but from pure, unadulterated fury. My eyes, usually calm, were now blazing with a cold fire.

I grabbed my purse from the floor. He thought I was a cheap whore sent to crawl into his bed? Fine.

I pulled out a crisp, new hundred-dollar bill. But just leaving the money wasn't enough to quell the anger boiling in my blood. I noticed a hotel notepad and a pen on the bedside table. I grabbed the pen and quickly scribbled a line across the paper in bold, elegant cursive.

"Mediocre performance. Here's a tip for your effort. Don't flatter yourself, Alpha."

I slammed the notepad onto the bedside table and slapped the hundred-dollar bill right on top of it, placing it exactly where he would see it the moment he walked out of the bathroom.

Let him see how it felt to be treated like a cheap, unsatisfactory gigolo.

I walked to the window. We were on the 32nd floor, but for a werewolf, that height was nothing. A werewolf's body possesses extraordinary physical capabilities, far exceeding human limits in strength, speed, and agility.

I slid the heavy glass window open. The cold morning wind whipped against my hot cheeks, clearing my mind completely. I was Kira Beaumont, the top hacker "Hawkeye" of the Eagle's Nest, a top-tier designer, and a survivor. I didn't need his pity, and I certainly didn't need his arrogant judgment.

Suddenly, the sound of running water in the bathroom stopped. A sharp click echoed as the door handle began to turn.

He was coming out. There was no time to hesitate.

I grabbed the window frame and vaulted over the edge just as the bathroom door swung open. My hands gripped the cold concrete sill as my body hung suspended thirty-two stories above the ground.