Vengeance in His Bed

The sting of the hospital brawl was still fresh in Damian’s veins when he arrived at his father’s sprawling, fortified estate in the upper district later that day. His knuckles were bruised, his jaw was tight, and the dark, suffocating fury inside him was ready to explode.

As he stepped past the security gates, Bellero’s next-in-command, Jared, intercepted him in the grand foyer. "Doctor Damian, hold on," Jared cautioned, putting a firm hand out, his expression tight with anxiety. "Your father is in his private quarters right now. He explicitly demanded that he should not be disturbed by absolutely anyone today. You need to wait downstairs."

Damian didn’t even look at him. With a cold, mocking scoff, he forcefully bypassed Jared, brushing past his shoulder and marching straight up the grand staircase. He walked down the corridor to his father’s bedroom and violently pushed the door open, intending to confront the old man immediately—only to be struck by absolute, jarring surprise.

The room was a den of pure, unfiltered debauchery. Bellero Boren was in the center of the massive bed with three beautiful, completely naked women, the air thick with a heavy, cloying mix of premium pheromones. One voluptuous beta woman was directly on top of him, riding him with breathless abandon, her back arched as she let out high, trembling moans. The other two—gorgeous omegas with flushed skin—were draped across his chest, aggressively kissing his neck and face while Bellero’s hands were buried between their thighs, crudely exploring their womanly junctions.

The entire space was filled with a loud, chaotic chorus of moans and gasps. The exact moment Damian stepped inside, the raw disgust hit his stomach. He turned around instantly, leaving the bedroom as soon as he had entered it, slamming the heavy door shut behind him and cursing fiercely under his breath. "Disgusting old bastard," Damian muttered, his chest heaving with pure revulsion as he paced the quiet hallway.

Bellero didn’t get out of the bed until he was completely done with the beautiful beta and omegas in the room.

Nearly forty minutes passed before the door finally opened again. Bellero emerged, casually wrapping a dark silk robe around his scarred, muscular torso, completely unbothered by his son’s presence. When he walked out to meet him, Damian was so angry his entire frame was shaking with a lethal, suppressed Alpha aura.

"When exactly are you going to stop this, Father?" Damian demanded, his voice a sharp, cutting blade in the hallway. "You are running a criminal empire, yet you spend your days behaving like a primitive animal in heat. Look at yourself!"

Bellero let out a low, gravelly scoff, tying the silk belt around his waist with absolute calmness. "Do not stand under my roof and lecture me on how to conduct my personal life, Damian. I built the Boren syndicate while you were still learning how to use a toothbrush. I do what I please, with whoever I please."

"No wonder Mom left you," Damian retorted back, the words sharp, deliberate, and dripping with absolute bitterness.

SLAP!

In a flash of pure, terrifying movement, Bellero swung his hand, slapping Damian hard across the face. The sheer force of the blow echoed loudly down the corridor, snapping Damian’s head to the side.

"You shut your mouth!" Bellero roared, his sharp features twisting into a mask of pure rage as he glared at his son. "That crazy, ungrateful mother of yours was nothing but a curse! I only married her out of pure pity to save her from the high-district executioners, and she didn’t even feel a single drop of gratitude for the life I provided! Never mention that woman’s name in my presence again if you want to keep your tongue!"

The older Alpha took a deep, stabilizing breath, his golden eyes narrowing into dangerous, calculated slits as he adjusted his robe. "Now, tell me what the hell you are doing here, bothering me at this hour."

"I came here because of Jannah," Damian said, wiping a thin smear of blood from his lip, his voice dropping into a cold, flat line. "I thought we had a clear, absolute agreement, Father. You swore to me last week that you would not involve your syndicate or use your brute criminal force in my matter with her. You said you would let me handle it my way."

Bellero’s expression shifted, a dark, clinical curiosity crossing his face. "Speaking of that situation... how exactly is Dorrent Grefo doing? Did my instructions yield any results?"

Damian let out a sharp, mocking laugh that was completely devoid of warmth. "Dorrent Grefo is doing perfectly well, Father. He doesn’t have a single scratch on his S-tier body. Your stupid, incompetent hitmen completely missed him and shot Jannah directly in her ribs instead! She is currently locked inside an emergency surgical suite, bleeding out because of your recklessness! I told you to stay out of this matter entirely, and now you’ve only made everything a thousand times worse!"

Bellero’s golden eyes flared with a brief, sudden flash of irritation, but his criminal composure didn’t break. "I was only trying to help my stubborn son secure what belongs to this family," the Mafia boss stated coldly. "Since my stupid hitmen have made such a pathetic, structural mistake, I will personally see to it that they are brutally punished by the end of the night. No one fails a Boren contract and walks away."

He stepped closer to Damian, his voice dropping into a commanding growl that left absolutely no room for negotiation. "Listen to me very carefully, Doctor. You will return to that hospital and use every single drop of your medical intellect to ensure that Jannah gets completely better. If she dies, we’ll have fought a loosing battle. Should anything permanent happen to her, you don’t dare show your face to me ever again."

"This is exactly what your world does, isn’t it?" Damian bared his teeth, his own Alpha pheromones flaring aggressively against his father’s. "You are the one who made things turn out this way! You thought you could solve everything by sending the Knockout Gang with high-caliber rifles, but not everything in this life can be solved by shedding blood, Bellero!"

Bellero looked at his son for a long, agonizing beat, a deeply bitter, cynical smile creeping across his wrinkled face. He shook his head with an ancient, unresolved grief.

"There is absolutely no better way than that in this world, Damian," Bellero whispered, his voice a low, chilling rasp that carried the weight of a multi-decade obsession. "You are far too naive. If only I had successfully used my ruthless means to marry Duro’s daughter— Frost, before the martial artist took her—you wouldn’t be standing here as some weak, ordinary Alpha right now. You would be an Enigma, Damian. The strongest, most powerful, and rarest biological type of human to ever exist in this universe."

The old Mafia boss leaned in, his eyes glowing with a terrifying, unhinged ambition that shook Damian to his core.

"Jannah Nenth carries the exact same genetic key as her mother. This is the absolute singular chance our bloodline has left to produce an Enigma... and I will burn this entire city to the ground before I let a Grefo claim it."