Chapter 2
607 Words
CHAPTER TWO
“The Morning After Isn’t Always Light.”
Luca’s POV
His body ached.
Not from the cold floor he’d passed out on, or the bruise blooming across his jaw, or even the cuts on his wrists from the zip ties.
It was the other ache.
The deep, shameful one.
The one that throbbed low in his belly every time he shifted, every time he remembered the way Alessio had filled him, held him down, touched him like he owned him.
Luca sat up with a hiss, ignoring the sting between his thighs and the dried stickiness clinging to his skin. His scent had changed. It was stronger now—richer, warmer.
He could smell him on himself.
Alessio f*****g Romano.
His father’s greatest enemy. His own personal nightmare.
And yet… the taste of the man still lingered in his mouth.
Luca shoved a hand through his hair and stood on shaky legs, his eyes darting around the dim room. It wasn’t a cell, not anymore. Alessio had moved him sometime after—after it happened. Now, he was in a small, empty bedroom with a sink, a thin mattress, and no windows.
Not a prisoner.
Just a possession.
He rinsed his face at the sink, but the reflection in the mirror wasn’t his. Not really.
He wasn’t just the youngest Moretti anymore.
He was an Omega who’d been claimed by an Alpha in heat-drunk rage.
And worst of all—he had let it happen.
Maybe even wanted it.
“Stupid,” he whispered. “f*****g stupid.”
The door creaked open, and Luca spun around, fists clenched.
Alessio stepped in, clean-shaven, in a black dress shirt with the top buttons undone. Like last night never happened. Like he hadn’t bent Luca over a filthy wall and marked his body with every thrust.
They stared at each other for a long, awful moment.
“I brought clothes,” Alessio said coolly, tossing a bundle onto the mattress. “Yours were torn.”
Luca didn’t move. “Is that all?”
Alessio’s eyes flicked down, then back up. “You’ll stay here for now. Until negotiations with your father resume.”
“Negotiations?” Luca snapped. “You r***d me, you bastard!”
Alessio’s expression didn’t flinch. “You didn’t say no.”
“I said I hated you.”
“And then you moaned when I touched you.”
Luca flinched.
The bastard wasn’t wrong. That’s what made it worse.
“You’re disgusting.”
“Maybe,” Alessio said, walking closer, slow as a shadow, “but so are you.”
He stopped just inches away. Luca could smell him again—Alpha, heat-warm, clean sweat and smoke and something else. Something dangerous.
“You’re not some fragile thing, Luca. You bit me first.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“I lost control. So did you. But don’t pretend you didn’t like it.”
“I want to claw your eyes out.”
“Then try.”
Luca didn’t. Couldn’t. Not when Alessio was looking at him like that—like he still wanted to taste his screams, like he was hungry all over again.
“Next time,” Alessio murmured, brushing a hand over Luca’s cheek without touching, “I’ll make you beg.”
He left, door clicking shut behind him.
Luca exhaled like he’d been punched. His knees buckled.
There was no escaping now—not him, not the war, not this twisted thing that had burned itself into his body.
And the worst part?
Somewhere deep inside him, where instincts buried themselves beneath skin and bone…
He wanted it again.
- Writer
