Chapter Text
The old Victorian house loomed before them, its weathered facade telling stories of better days. The wind stirred the overgrown garden, rustling dead leaves across the cracked path. Seungcheol stood at the forefront of their group, the heavy iron key cool against his palm. Behind him, Wonwoo, Minghao, Dokyeom, and Mingyu waited with barely contained excitement – their new territory, their new beginning.
"It's not much," Seungcheol admitted, taking in the peeling paint and overgrown garden, "but it's ours."
The others murmured in agreement, their excitement tempered by the eerie stillness of the house. Steeling himself, Seungcheol stepped forward, the key sliding into the lock. The turn was reluctant, the screech of metal on metal shattering the silence. When the door finally groaned open, the stale air hit them like a wave, carrying the weight of abandonment—and something else.
It hit them immediately – sweet, distinctive, unmistakable.
Omega.
And it wasn't stale.
Seungcheol froze mid-step. His alpha instincts stirred, sharp and alert. Behind him, Mingyu sniffed the air, his expression darkening.
Mingyu's nose twitched. "Hyung..."
"I know” Seungcheol replied, his tone low and clipped. His eyes narrowed, scanning the shadows. “I smell it too," Seungcheol whispered, his alpha instincts suddenly on high alert. "There are two of them."
They moved cautiously through the dusty foyer, following the scent trail that wound through the house like a thread. The floorboards creaked beneath their feet, betraying their presence. A sudden crash from upstairs made them all freeze.
Seungcheol’s heart pounded as his eyes darted toward the grand staircase.
The alphas stilled.
A pair of figures emerged at the top, frozen in place like deer caught in headlights. Two Omegas, their eyes wide with fear, stared down at the intruders. The blonde one trembled violently, his gaunt frame barely upright as he clutched at the wall for support. His wide, tear-brimmed eyes flickered between the alphas below, his entire body coiled with raw, palpable fear. Beside him, the darker-haired Omega was half-hidden, his face turned down, his grip on the blonde’s arm desperate and unsteady. Neither of them moved—too terrified to breathe, too afraid to flee.
Seungcheol’s presence seemed to hit them like a tidal wave.
Seungcheol raised his hands slowly, his broad frame towering yet restrained. He tried to soften his voice, though the command of an alpha was impossible to suppress entirely. “Wait,” he began, but the word seemed to break the spell.
The blonde let out a soft, strangled whimper as he stumbled back, dragging the other Omega with him. Their retreat was frantic and uncoordinated, their fear choking the air between them. The alphas barely had time to exchange glances before the Omegas turned and fled, their footfalls pounding against the creaking wood.
The alphas exchanged quick glances, instinctively falling into motion. Wonwoo and Minghao peeled off toward the back stairs, moving to cut off any escape, while Seungcheol, Dokyeom, and Mingyu took the main staircase. The sound of frantic footsteps echoed through the house, punctuated by the sharp creaks of the aging floorboards.
“They’re terrified,” Minghao murmured, his voice cutting through the tension.
“And starving,” Wonwoo added, his gaze lingering on the frail figures vanishing down the dark hall.
The alphas moved swiftly but carefully, their steps deliberate. The chase wasn’t long; the Omegas’ exhaustion betrayed them. The scent trail led to a library, its heavy door left ajar. Seungcheol pushed it open, revealing the trembling pair cornered against a wall of dust-covered books.
The blonde stood in front again, his arms stretched out as though his fragile body could form a barrier. His entire frame quaked, his head bowed low. Behind him, the darker-haired Omega pressed into the shadows, his breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts. Neither of them spoke. They didn’t dare.
The blonde’s hands trembled violently as he clenched his fists at his sides. His lips moved as though forming words, but no sound escaped. It was as if fear had stolen his voice.
"P-please," the blonde one finally managed to whisper, his voice trembling. However, he didn’t even know what he was asking for. Not getting closer to them? Not yelling? Not shredding them into pieces for trespassing on the Alphas’ territory?
Seungcheol’s chest tightened at the sight. He held his hands out again, his movements deliberate, slow. “You’re safe,” he said, his voice low and steady. The weight of his authority softened as much as it could. “No one’s going to hurt you.”
The Omegas flinched, shrinking further into themselves. The blonde’s head shook faintly, his body screaming disbelief. The darker Omega whimpered, the sound breaking like glass in the oppressive silence.
Seungcheol took step closer, carefully avoiding sudden movements. “You’re not in trouble,” he tried again, though the words sounded hollow even to him. “But we would like to know who you are and why you are here” The words hung in the air, but their impact didn’t reach the Omegas huddled before him.
Seungcheol took another slow, deliberate step closer, his every movement radiating calm control, but the air in the room seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment. His presence, the undeniable aura of a pack alpha, filled the space like a physical force. It wasn’t something he wielded intentionally—this was instinct, something embedded in his very being. The Omegas felt it too; their trembling grew worse, their fragile bodies reacting to the unspoken dominance that marked him as the leader of the alphas.
The blonde Omega, his head bowed so low his chin nearly touched his chest, flinched at Seungcheol’s voice. His shoulders twitched as though expecting a blow, though none came. His breathing was shallow, uneven, as he clung to the darker-haired Omega, whose face was hidden completely by a curtain of dark locks. Neither dared lift their gaze. They avoided the alphas’ eyes with a desperate intensity, their submission ingrained so deeply it looked more like instinct than choice.
“This place… it’s ours now,” Seungcheol continued, his tone softening slightly. “But that doesn’t mean we’ll force you out.”
The words should have offered reassurance, but they only seemed to worsen the Omegas’ fear. The blonde shivered, inching back ever so slightly, his knees scraping against the dusty floor. The darker-haired Omega, pressed against the blonde’s side, let out a soft, pitiful whimper, barely audible over the sound of their ragged breathing.
Wonwoo stepped closer, his usually calm demeanor careful and non-threatening, but the faint creak of his boot on the floor made the Omegas jerk in unison. It was as though the sound alone had shattered something fragile within them. The blonde Omega twitched, his head darting up briefly before snapping back down, avoiding even the possibility of meeting any of the alphas’ gazes.
“Poor souls” Minghao said quietly from the doorway, his voice low and filled with something like pity. “Why are they so terrified? It’s not like we want to…”
Seungcheol raised a hand to silence him, his own gaze fixed on the trembling pair. “They’ve been taught to fear alphas,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. His chest tightened, an ache he couldn’t name blooming as he watched the blonde’s pale fingers clutch at the hem of the darker-haired Omega’s tattered shirt like a lifeline.
The moment stretched, the tension suffocating. Then the blonde Omega moved—sudden, frantic, driven by pure desperation. Without warning, he pulled the darker-haired Omega up with him, their movements clumsy but fueled by fear. Their attempt to flee was almost painful to watch: the blonde stumbled over his own feet, dragging his companion with him as they scrambled toward the opposite corner of the library, as far from the alphas as the cramped room would allow.
“Wait—stop,” Seungcheol said sharply, but his command only made them panic further.
The sharp tone of his voice was mostly caused by the fear of getting them even more hurt than they already are.
The Omegas tried to dart past him, their exhaustion and malnourishment rendering their movements slow and uncoordinated. The darker-haired Omega let out a soft cry, barely able to keep up with the blonde’s frantic tugging. They almost made it to the door—but Mingyu stepped in front of them, his large frame blocking their path with ease.
“Careful!” Mingyu said, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. But the sight of another alpha standing between them and freedom shattered whatever small resolve the Omegas had left.
The blonde froze, his body going rigid, his chest heaving as if the air itself had turned to stone. The darker-haired Omega crumpled to his knees with a low, broken whimper, his trembling fingers clutching at the blonde’s leg as though trying to ground himself. The blonde’s eyes darted wildly between Mingyu and Seungcheol, the two alphas now closing in from either side.
“Easy,” Seungcheol said, his voice lowering into a calm, firm tone meant to soothe. But his alpha presence—the commanding authority he couldn’t entirely mask—only drove them further into submission.
The blonde Omega’s legs gave out, and he collapsed, pulling the other down with him. They crouched together on the floor, their heads bowed low, their hands shaking as they pressed their foreheads to the dusty wood in a silent display of submission. Their entire bodies quaked with the effort, their silence deafening in its raw, visceral terror.
Seungcheol felt something twist in his chest at the sight. He had seen Omegas cower before—instinctual submission was common when alphas exerted dominance—but this wasn’t natural. This was learned. Conditioned.
“Stop,” he said, his voice softer now, tinged with something almost like guilt. “You don’t have to do that. No one’s going to hurt you.”
But the Omegas didn’t move. They remained pressed to the floor, their small frames trembling as though they might break apart under the weight of the moment.
“Mingyu,” Seungcheol said quietly. “Step back. Give them space.”
Mingyu hesitated, his jaw tight, before taking a slow step away. The others followed suit, each alpha retreating slightly, though the tension in the room remained thick.
Seungcheol crouched low, keeping his movements slow and deliberate as he tried to meet the Omegas at their level. “You’re not in trouble. You’re safe here.” he said gently, though his words didn’t seem to reach them.
The blonde Omega let out a soft, shaky exhale at those words, but his posture didn’t change. It was the darker-haired Omega who moved first, his head tilting slightly as though he were trying to process the meaning behind Seungcheol’s voice. But then the blonde grabbed his arm, pulling him back protectively to the floor, a faint, pleading whimper escaping his lips. Jeonghan was scared that one look at Alphas will make them go brutal, he couldn’t risk it. Not with Joshua by his side.
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The library door closed with a soft click, sealing the Omegas inside. Seungcheol lingered for a moment on the other side, his hand hovering over the doorknob. His senses stayed tuned to the tremulous sound of their breathing within the room, the fear rolling off them still as palpable as the scent of sweet Omega pheromones in the stale air.
“They’ll be okay,” Dokyeom said quietly, placing a reassuring hand on Seungcheol’s shoulder.
Seungcheol didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he exhaled heavily, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “Let’s give them time.”
The Alphas decided to leave them in the library because there wasn’t any other choice at the moment. The Omegas were too terrified to be in the same room as Alphas. Seungcheol was sceptical about it, leaving two starved, panicked, hurt and panicked Omegas alone, but he knew it would only make it worse if they had stayed there.
Inside the library, Jeonghan stayed crouched where the alphas had left them, his arms wrapped protectively around Joshua. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, his body stiff and aching from holding tension for so long.
Before Alphas left, one of them put two baked cupcakes on a plate on a cupboard close to the door. Next to it theer were also two bottles of water.
It sat untouched on a low table. Its presence was almost mocking, a cruel reminder of things Omegas like them weren’t supposed to have freely.
The blonde Omega’s mind churned, racing through every piece of ingrained knowledge he’d been taught about alphas.
Don’t trust them. Don’t look them in the eye. They’ll take what they want.
He swallowed hard, his throat dry and aching, his body screaming for nourishment. But no amount of hunger could make him reach for the food. That wasn’t how this worked. Omegas didn’t deserve food unless they earned it—unless they proved their worth. That was what they’d been told, time and time again, through the most inhuman ways possible.
His fingers tightened their grip on Joshua’s thin wrist as if grounding himself in the present would quiet the noise in his head.
Joshua stirred slightly, leaning into Jeonghan’s side. He was trembling, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. Jeonghan tightened his hold, whispering softly, though his voice was barely audible. “It’s okay. Don’t look at it. Don’t think about it.”
The words were hollow. He didn’t believe them, and he doubted Joshua did either.
Five alphas. The thought clawed at the back of his mind, repeating itself in an endless loop. Five of them. All of them stronger, faster, and bigger than us. They could do anything to us, and we wouldn’t be able to stop them. His stomach turned at the memory of Seungcheol’s towering presence, the sheer dominance in his voice when he spoke. He hadn’t raised a hand, hadn’t even raised his voice—but it had been enough to make Jeonghan’s legs buckle beneath him.
No alpha does something for nothing, Jeonghan thought bitterly, his lips pressed into a thin line. They’ll say we’re safe, but it’s a lie. It’s always a lie.
Joshua let out a soft whimper, curling further into Jeonghan’s side. Jeonghan glanced down at him, his chest aching at the sight of his friend’s pale, tear-streaked face. I’ll protect him, he vowed silently. No matter what they want from us, I won’t let them hurt him.
The alphas lingered in the kitchen, the reality of the situation beginning to set in as they exchanged glances. The scent of Omegas still lingered faintly, though muted now that the two frightened figures were safely—or perhaps uneasily—shut away in the library.
“They were in our house,” Mingyu muttered, breaking the silence as he resumed pacing. “I mean, they’re Omegas. What were they even thinking? Wandering into someone’s claimed territory? That’s just asking for trouble.”
Dokyeom looked at him sharply. “They probably didn’t know it was claimed, Mingyu. Did you see them? They’ve been barely surviving, let alone scoping out pack boundaries.”
“Still,” Mingyu shot back, his frustration mounting. “This isn’t some random field or forest—they came inside the house. Who does that?”
Wonwoo leaned back against the counter, his arms folded. “Desperate people. They probably thought it was abandoned. And by the looks of them, they haven’t had a decent meal or a safe place to sleep in weeks.”
Minghao nodded, his expression thoughtful. “If they’ve been on their own that long, maybe they’ve forgotten what claimed territory even smells like. Or maybe they just didn’t care. When you’re starving, survival comes first.”
“Okay, fine, but what are we supposed to do now?” Mingyu asked, his voice tinged with exasperation. “Keep them here? Send them away? I mean, it’s not like they’ll just walk out the door and be fine. They’re Omegas. Alone out there, they’re as good as—”
“Don’t say it,” Seungcheol interrupted, his tone sharp but calm. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his jaw set as he stared at the table. “We’re not sending them out there.”
The others turned toward him, the weight of his words sinking in.
“So, we keep them?” Dokyeom asked hesitantly, his voice quiet. “Like… they’re part of the pack now?”
“They’re not part of the pack,” Seungcheol clarified, his tone firm but not unkind. “Not yet. We don’t even know who they are or what they’ve been through. But we’re not throwing them to the wolves, either—literally or figuratively.”
Wonwoo tilted his head slightly, his sharp eyes focused on Seungcheol. “So, what’s the plan? We let them stay, feed them, make sure they’re safe… then what? Do we help them get back on their feet and send them on their way? Or do we… I don’t know, ask them to stay?”
Minghao exhaled slowly. “They won’t trust us enough to stay. Not anytime soon, at least. Did you see the way they looked at us? Like we were predators ready to pounce. They probably think we’re keeping them here to…” He trailed off, his expression tightening.
“To use them,” Dokyeom finished grimly, the words bitter on his tongue.
Seungcheol closed his eyes briefly, trying to push down the wave of frustration that came with the truth of those words. “We’re not like that,” he said firmly, though the statement felt hollow. Actions, not words, would prove it.
“They don’t know that,” Wonwoo said. “They’ve probably only ever known alphas who take and hurt and destroy. To them, we’re just more of the same.”
“So what do we do?” Mingyu asked again, more quietly this time. “Just… keep them here indefinitely? Hope they eventually figure out we’re not going to hurt them?”
“We start with the basics,” Seungcheol said after a long pause. “Food, water, shelter. No demands, no expectations. If they want to talk, they’ll talk. If they want to stay, they’ll stay. We give them the time and space to decide that on their own.”
“And if they want to leave?” Minghao asked softly.
Seungcheol’s expression hardened, his gaze fixed on the table. “If they want to leave, we let them. But only when we’re sure they’re strong enough to survive out there. I’m not sending them out into the wild just to get hunted down or taken by someone worse.”
Wonwoo nodded slowly, his sharp mind already working through the logistics. “That’s fair. But we’ll need to be careful. Too much kindness too fast, and they’ll think we’re trying to manipulate them. Too little, and they’ll think we’re like the others they’ve dealt with.”
“Exactly,” Seungcheol said, his voice low but resolute. “We walk the line. Whatever it takes to show them they’re safe here.”
Mingyu rubbed the back of his neck, his frustration giving way to reluctant acceptance. “I guess we don’t have much of a choice. It’s not like we can just toss them out and sleep at night.”
Dokyeom smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Wouldn’t want to, even if we could.”
Seungcheol looked around the room, meeting each of their gazes in turn. “This won’t be easy. We don’t know what they’ve been through, but it’s bad enough that they can’t even look us in the eye, let alone trust us. They’re not just going to wake up one day and believe we mean them no harm.”
For a moment, the room was still, the alphas united in their determination. Whatever the Omegas had been through, they wouldn’t face it alone anymore. Not if Seungcheol’s pack had anything to say about it.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The library was oppressively silent, the kind of quiet that made Jeonghan’s skin crawl. He could hear the faint creak of the old house settling and, further away, the muffled voices of the alphas somewhere in another part of the house. They had left the door closed—not locked, as far as Jeonghan could tell, though he didn’t dare test it. That would be admitting something he wasn’t willing to confront yet.
Instead, he sat stiffly against the wall, his body a barrier between Joshua and the rest of the room. Joshua hadn’t moved much, his thin form curled tightly into Jeonghan’s side. He was staring blankly at the floorboards, his breathing uneven.
“They’re trapping us,” Jeonghan murmured to himself, though his voice was barely audible. He hadn’t meant to speak aloud, but the thought burned so brightly in his mind it escaped. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his throat felt like sandpaper.
“That’s why they left us here.”
Joshua didn’t respond, but his trembling increased slightly, as if even the suggestion of what Jeonghan was saying was enough to send him deeper into his fear.
Why leave us alone? Jeonghan’s mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle of the alphas’ behavior. Why not do something now? What are they waiting for?
His thoughts spiraled, each one darker than the last. Maybe they’re giving us time to panic. Breaking us down before they come back and demand whatever they want. Maybe they’re trying to see if we’ll disobey by touching their food.
He glanced at the untouched plate on the low table, bile rising in his throat. It was too perfect, too calculated. They’re testing us. If we eat it, we’ll owe them something. That’s how it works. That’s always how it works.
He let out a soft, shuddering exhale, his fingers tightening around Joshua’s wrist. His friend flinched but didn’t pull away, too consumed by his own terror to react much.
Jeonghan’s eyes darted toward the door again, lingering on the brass doorknob. It was old and rusted in places, but it didn’t look particularly strong. They didn’t lock it, but that doesn’t mean we’re free. They could be waiting on the other side, waiting for us.
The thought made his stomach churn, but another idea took root in his mind—one that was as reckless as it was desperate. What if we ran? His eyes shifted to the window across the room, its heavy curtains drawn but still letting in thin streaks of afternoon light. It looked warped with age, the glass likely fragile. They might be able to squeeze through if they could break it, but...
Five alphas. The thought returned like a heavy weight pressing on his chest. Even if we got out, they’d find us. They’d hunt us down, and then what? He could still feel Seungcheol’s dominating presence, the way the alpha had looked at him without really looking, as if Jeonghan’s very existence was already under his control.
Still, the alternative—staying—seemed just as horrifying. Jeonghan’s entire body screamed at him to do something, to find a way out of this situation before it was too late. He shifted slightly, his gaze moving back to the window.
“Jeonghan…” Joshua’s voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and trembling. It was the first word he’d spoken since the alphas had left. He clung tighter to Jeonghan’s arm, his voice cracking as he murmured, “They’ll hear us.”
Jeonghan stilled. Joshua was right. As much as he hated it, the alphas would hear them if they made any sudden movements. There was no escaping the sharp senses of a pack, especially one led by an alpha as powerful as Seungcheol.
But if we don’t try…