Chapter 2
Gali
I stood there, arms crossed over my chest, watching as our boss, El Lobo Negro — The Black Wolf himself — paced back and forth behind his desk. Something was wrong. I could smell it.
His face was thunderous, dark eyes stormy with barely contained rage. I'd seen him like this countless times before; hell, I'd helped fuel many of those tempers myself. But today was different. Today, he was pissed off enough to make even my hackles rise.
"Those damn Bloodletters," he growled, pausing mid-stride to slam his fist down onto the polished wood surface. It damaged it slightly. What a pity. "They think they can just waltz into our territory and start peddling their poison? Not on my watch."
I stayed silent, letting him get it all out. That was what being his right-hand man meant — knowing when to speak and when to let him weather the storm. Besides, I agreed. The Bloodletters were a blight on this city, exploiting the weak with their cheap knock-offs and undercutting everyone else. It was time they got knocked down a peg, and I was going to make sure of it.
As if sensing my agreement, El Lobo turned to me suddenly, his piercing gaze locking onto mine. "Gali," he snapped, "I want you to gather a team tonight. Hit their main distribution point hard and send a message loud and clear: the Nightshade Wolves do not tolerate interlopers."
A grim smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. I was waiting for him to say those words. This was what I lived for — taking out trash like the Bloodletters and protecting our territory from encroaching threats. "Consider it done," I replied, turning towards the door.
"Wait." His voice halted me in my tracks. What did he want now? I pivoted back around to face him, eyebrow raised questioningly. "Be subtle about it," he added gruffly. "No unnecessary casualties unless absolutely necessary. We don't need the heat of the Five-0s on us right now."
I nodded curtly, understanding his meaning. Still, I wished he was more unhinged. While we weren't exactly choirboys ourselves, drawing too much attention from the law enforcement could spell trouble for our operations. Discretion was key in maintaining control over our empire. I knew that better than anyone else.
"Understood," I confirmed before exiting his office, leaving him to stew over whatever else was eating at him today. Usually, there was always something else that pissed him off.
Out in the hallway, several of our men fell into step beside me as I strode with purpose toward our war room. They looked up at me with expectation shining in their eyes — eager for battle, hungry for action. I couldn't blame them; we were predators after all, and every predator needs prey to hunt.
Once assembled around the table strewn with maps and blueprints, I laid out our plan for the evening's festivities. We'd strike fast and hard, catching them unaware while they thought themselves safe within their so-called 'fortress'. By the time they realized what hit them, it would already be too late. I had done this before, so I knew what I was doing.
As I spoke, I felt a familiar thrill coursing through my veins — an adrenaline rush born of anticipation and danger. There was nothing quite like facing off against enemies who dared challenge our dominance, proving once again why we were the most feared gang in these parts. That was how it had to be. I wouldn't have it any other way.
And yet, beneath that exhilaration lurked something else: a cold calculation born of years spent clawing my way up through the ranks until finally reaching this position of power alongside El Lobo. This wasn't just about satisfying some innate urge anymore; it was also about sending a very public reminder to anyone else thinking about stepping onto our turf.
Because that was what we did best: protect what was ours by any means necessary. And woe betide anyone foolish enough to stand in our way.
Later, I leaned back in my leather armchair, swirling the amber liquid in my glass as I stared blankly at the flames dancing in the fireplace across from me. Moments like these were when I found myself thinking about my life, and I hated that. I would rather be doing something else, but I couldn't. It wasn't yet the time to hurt the Bloodletters.
The warmth of the drink should've been comforting, but tonight it only served to highlight the emptiness gnawing at me.
My mind wandered back to a time when things seemed simpler — when all I cared about was climbing the ranks of the Nightshade Wolves and carving out a name for myself in this brutal world. I only used to think about that. At the time, I never thought I would ever be so worried about something else. Back then, love or mating bonds were luxuries I couldn't afford, distractions I didn't need.
Even now, I couldn't help but think that they were only getting in my way. I should be focused on the task I would have to finish later. Striking against the Bloodletters wasn't going to be easy, after all.
As I grew older and secured my place at El Lobo's side, I began to yearn for something more... something deeper. An omega of my own, someone to share my life with, to build a future with. Someone who understood this world but wasn't tainted by it.
I figured I'd eventually have to face this moment and think about those things, but part of me just wasn't ready to go there yet.
I'd had offers over the years — omegas throwing themselves at me, hoping to snag a high-ranking alpha like myself. But none of them felt right. None of them sparked that primal recognition deep within me, that instinctual pull towards my fated mate.
Fated mates — it sounded cheesy even thinking about it, but I believed in it nonetheless. In our world, alphas and omegas were drawn together by forces beyond our control, bound together by destiny itself. When an alpha met his true mate, he would feel an overwhelming surge of protectiveness and possessiveness unlike anything else. His instincts would scream at him to claim that omega, to mark him as taken, to ensure no other alpha came near him ever again.
It was over-the-top, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to feel that way about someone someday. I wasn’t sure if I’d get that lucky, though — maybe I never would.
An omega would respond in kind, of course, feeling a sense of safety and belonging they'd never experienced before. Their bodies would crave their alpha's touch, their scent, their presence. It was a connection forged in heaven and tempered in hell, designed to withstand even the harshest trials life threw at us.
Some might call it superstition, but I'd seen it happen enough times among our pack members to know there was truth to it. Besides, why settle for anything less than perfection when fate owed us something far greater?
So, for now, I was waiting, biding my time until fate deemed me worthy of its gift. In the meantime, I kept my distance from potential suitors, not wanting to lead anyone on or give false hope. Most of all, I just didn't want to disappoint myself. My heart belonged to someone else — someone I hadn't even met yet.
It wasn't easy, though. On nights like tonight, when the weight of solitude pressed down upon me like a physical force, doubt crept in like a poisonous vine. What if, despite the positive proof I knew existed, there was no such thing as fated mates? What if I was destined to spend my life alone, surrounded by wealth and power but devoid of genuine affection?
Shaking off those morose thoughts, I drained my glass and set it aside. No use dwelling on maybes and what-ifs. If fate intended for me to find my omega, then it would happen when the time was right. Until then, I had a job to do, a role to play in maintaining order within our territory.
Rising from my chair, I crossed the room to stare out at the city lights twinkling below. Somewhere out there, perhaps even now, my omega was waiting for me. Waiting for me to come along and sweep him off his feet, claim him as mine, and make him whole.
Until then, patience was key.
Later, the night air felt difficult to breathe as we approached the Bloodletters' main distribution point — an abandoned warehouse nestled between two crumbling tenements. Our team moved silently through the shadows, weapons drawn, eyes scanning every dark corner for signs of danger.
When I said we had planned every little detail, I meant it. I stood by every word. We'd planned meticulously for this raid; every entrance covered, every escape route accounted for. The element of surprise was ours, and we meant to use it without holding anything back. Why would we even consider doing that? We weren't going to.
I signaled for two of our men to take up positions at either end of the building while the rest of us prepared to breach the main entrance. As we moved into position, I could feel the familiar thrill of battle coursing through my veins, adrenaline pumping hard and fast. I loved every single second of that.
With a swift nod, I counted down from three on my fingers, then slammed my boot into the door. Wood splintered under the force of impact, sending us spilling into the dimly lit interior.
I chose not to say anything. There was no point, and anything I could’ve said would’ve sounded cheesy anyway.
Chaos erupted instantly. Bloodletters scattered like roaches caught in sudden light, grabbing for weapons and screaming obscenities. They hadn't expected us to strike against them like this. We cut them down mercilessly, our training and discipline turning the tide in an instant.
Amidst the chaos, something seemed to be going wrong, and it worried me. A young omega — barely more than a kid — caught my eye as he cowered behind a makeshift barricade of crates. He looked terrified, wide-eyed, and shaking, clutching a small bag filled with some illicit substance.
Given the chaos around him, his reaction was normal. I wished he didn't have to be experiencing this.
For a moment, everything seemed to slow down around me. This wasn't supposed to happen; omegas weren't usually involved in these kinds of operations. They were protected, cherished even among criminals like us.
Yet here he was, right in the middle of it all. Bloodletters didn't have any sense of morality or what was appropriate. They only cared about themselves. Fuck them.
Before I could react, one of our men lunged forward, intent on taking out the boy along with his captors. Time seemed to stretch out as I realized what was about to happen.
"Stop!" I roared, but it was too late. The alpha's gun spat fire, the bullet striking home just inches from where the omega huddled. My heart skipped a beat.
A pained cry echoed through the warehouse as the boy clutched his arm, blood seeping between his fingers. He stumbled back against the wall, eyes wide with fear and pain. Jesus. I didn't think I could forgive the shooter.
Everything inside me screamed at me to rush towards him, to protect him from further harm. But doing so would leave my back exposed, vulnerable to attack from any number of Bloodletters still lurking nearby. A lot of them were in strategic positions.
I gritted my teeth against the agony of indecision tearing through me. Then, making a choice that felt like ripping out my own heart, I turned away from the injured omega and focused instead on clearing the remaining threats. I had to do something, even though it wasn't what I wanted to do.
One by one, we picked off the last of the Bloodletters until only silence remained save for the ragged breathing of my team and the soft whimpers of the wounded boy.
As soon as the coast was clear, I rushed towards him without thinking about anything else. Kneeling beside him, I gently pried his hand away from the wound to assess the damage. It was bad — deep and bleeding freely — but it didn't look fatal. Relief washed over me. I could take comfort in that.
Still, rage boiled inside me over what had happened. That fucking idiot should've known better than to put a civilian in harm's way! What was he thinking? He wasn't paying attention to what he was doing and what was happening around him? It was unforgivable!
"We need medical help," I growled at one of my men before stripping off my jacket and pressing it firmly against the wound to staunch the flow of blood.
The omega flinched away slightly at first but then leaned into my touch as if seeking comfort. His scent hit me then — sweet and innocent beneath the tang of blood and fear — and something strong stirred within me.
No... Not now. Not here. Not like this. It couldn't be him. It just didn't make any sense. I thought that, when it happened, it would be different.
I pushed those thoughts aside harshly, focusing instead on keeping him calm and conscious until help arrived. "You're gonna be okay," I murmured softly, brushing sweat-dampened hair away from his forehead. He flinched slightly. He was even afraid of me.
A few seconds later, though, he looked up at me with tear-filled eyes full of trust and gratitude. It seemed he was beginning to feel better — especially about me, which was the most important thing.
In that moment, despite everything, I felt something shift inside me. Something profound and undeniable.
Fuck. Could this be...
But no — not here, not now. There were more important things demanding my attention.
Like making sure none of my men ever did something so reckless again. And figuring out why an omega like him was mixed up with scum like the Bloodletters in the first place.
Those questions would have to wait though because right now, all that mattered was getting him patched up and safe.