The cart creaked under his shaking body, the chains rattling with each push. The chains that had been at the auction now did not seem as heavy as they had been in the cart. The forest road was uneven, the mud seeped through the boards, soaking his clothes with cold moisture. The omega sat, pressed into a corner, hunched over like a wounded animal. He was sick from the pain and the smell, this smell that filled the entire cart, pressing on his chest, making his insides convulse.
The alpha sat opposite, motionless as a rock. He did not say a word, showed no interest, but his smell, his presence pierced his consciousness sharper than any whip. The air between them was thick, heavy, like before a thunderstorm. Every second near him became torture.
Every omega could recognize the state of the alpha by his smell. But the smell of this man was so strong that it only made him dizzy.
The Omega was suffocating. His instincts were tearing him apart: to run, to surrender, to submit. And primal fear permeated every cell of his body.
He tried to stop shaking, but it only got worse. The cold penetrated to the bones, the clothes stuck to his skin. He glanced sideways at the alpha, trying not to move, so as not to attract attention.
Without warning, almost lazily, the alpha took off his cape and threw it on his lap. Not out of concern, not to warm him. It was a ruthless act of ownership: "You are mine. You are cold - that is my problem. But do not dare to die without my permission. You have cost me too much."
The fabric smelled so sharply, powerfully. The Omega wanted to throw it away, but his instincts played stronger than his will. He convulsively squeezed the fabric, squeezed even harder, clenching his jaws until it hurt.
When the cart stopped for the first rest, he realized: this was his only chance to escape.
While the alpha was distracted by lighting a fire, he rushed forward, jumped onto the dirty ground and threw himself into the darkness of the forest. His feet slid on the damp soil, his breath came out in ragged, convulsive gasps. He hadn't walked for two weeks, and now he was running.
Every second was an eternity. Every step was a fight for life.
Suddenly, he heard heavy footsteps in the distance behind him. They were approaching. Not quickly. No, the alpha was in no hurry. He knew that he would catch up with him sooner or later.
And when the omega, stumbling, threw himself over a fallen tree, he was caught.
A steel hand closed on his wrist with such force that it seemed the bones would crack. He was jerked around, his back pressed into the nearest trunk. The omega's chest shuddered piteously under the weight of the other's body.
Warm breath burned his face. The alpha's scent - all-consuming, oppressive, merciless - made his instincts beat in agony.
The omega choked with horror. He struggled, tried to break free, but it was pointless: like a moth in the claws of a predator.
The alpha was silent. He only squeezed him tighter. His fingers dug into the omega's shoulders, restraining his furious trembling.
"Enough," he hissed right into his ear. The voice was low, muffled, full of that power that no one could survive.
The omega sobbed, trying not to collapse to the ground. His heart was beating so hard that it seemed his chest would crack.
He looked up, wanting to see at least a drop of mercy. But there was nothing in the steel eyes before him.
He saw neither pity nor warmth, only cold, measured power.
At that moment, the omega understood: for this alpha, he was nothing more than a thing.
And he would never, under any circumstances, let go of his property.
This was the first, but not the last attempt to escape.
The path after his short escape was hard, full of the creaking of the rope stretched between his wrist and the alpha's hand. He walked, stumbling at every step, weakened, overcome by fear and the awareness of his complete helplessness. The alpha did not say a word, did not drag him on himself, but did not let go either, holding him on a leash, like a wild animal that only needed to be pulled with a short tug from time to time.
When they reached a small vacant lot among the trees, the alpha stopped and with a short movement ordered him to sit down. The omega sank down on the cold, wet ground, feeling how the dampness instantly penetrated the thin fabric of his clothes to his skin. He bowed his head, unable to even steal a glance at his captor.
The alpha, without wasting time, took a knife from his belt and began to cut up a rabbit caught on the way. His movements were quick, precise, as if this were not a hunt but an inevitable, routine job. He plunged the blade into the flesh with indifferent precision, tearing off the skin in one jerk, and then, deftly and dispassionately, he ripped open the belly of the prey. The blood flowed in a warm stream onto the grass, and the cracking of bones under his hands sounded like the music of a predator accustomed to taking lives without a drop of regret.
The omega watched this through half-closed eyelids, clenching his fingers into trembling fists, feeling his stomach twist with disgust and fear again. But he did not dare turn away. He knew that any gesture of defiance could be interpreted as a challenge.
When the meat was roughly cut up, the alpha did not start a neat fire. He simply threw a few damp branches onto the sparks, creating a smoking flame and roasting a few bloody chunks on a dirty iron grate, clearly not caring about taste or doneness. This wasn't cooking, this was crude survivalism - no different from how he fed his new possession.
One piece of meat flew towards the omega, landing next to his legs. No invitation, no explanation, no hint of a gesture of goodwill. Just an order, silent, not to be disobeyed.