Owned by Alpha Diétrich |BxB|

Prologue

Alpha Diétrich.

A man with a notorious and merciless reputation.

I've only ever seen the headlines of his conquests and achievements, or heard from others about his cold and ruthless character. The children were frightened by stories about him, and the older generations praised his power and prestige.

He had money and leverage throughout different kingdoms— and no one had their hands on that man. You didn't breathe if he didn't allow you, nor did you speak if he didn't so instruct. Instead, you did everything he told you, everyone dancing around him like idiots with no spine.

It angered me, how all these people were hanging from his tight leash. Every single Royal submitted to him and followed his orders even when they had the exact same title, whether it was because of admiration, respect, or fear. 

You'd hear the tales of him fighting off dozens of wild rogues, eating their insides, and hanging their scruffs to the walls as souvenirs. Or then you'd hear about the veracious sex life he practiced; all women and men warming up his bed for the night. Or then his monumental success at the battlefields, to an extent where no Kingdom could ever fathom opposing the Diétrich's might. 

The thing that connected these together was that he held no affection towards anyone, or so much as feel sympathy for another being. He was a reasonable leader, a pioneer even, but when it came down to punishments and executions, he didn't withstand.

You couldn't know when he'd lose it, when he'd consider you as his enemy. Was it when you didn't agree with something or was it when you looked at him a bit too wrong?

Don't be a fool and mix facts together though, the man was furthest from paranoid or unstable, even when he could seem a bit like a nutcase. No, he was a calculating, observant. Precise. You wouldn't know on the exact moment when you had fucked up— you never had any idea where you stood. It would follow you for days and even years until he finally got the opening he had so long waited for.

We were just pawns on his little chessboard, waiting to be checked.

Some had challenged his position; undergoing the tradition of a fight that would only cease to the death of your opponent. But he never lost, and nowadays no one was crazy enough to even try duel him. His wolf was bigger than an average bear, and his advanced combat techniques made him the invincible machine he was.

But hearing about those stories, about that stupid fiction produced by wimps, I could only laugh. 

I wouldn't ever fall down on my knees in front of that man. He could threaten me, hit me, torture me— anything. But I'd never follow him as blindly as the others did.

He would need to earn my respect, just like others.

I wasn't scared of fairytales or intimidating Alphas. 

I had been raised for that, molded for it. No one could bounce me around, had they tried too, and he wouldn't be an exception. It was partially thanks to their own rough hands, for raising me like I wouldn't be a good enough fit for a warrior. 

They said that I should yield and obey like every other individual of my species, as if I didn't know how this world worked. 

But I did. 

On the top, you had the pure-blood Alphas who lead the divided nations. They owned fortunes, giving off laws and orders like kings used to, some of them with warm intentions and others not so much. Some were greedy and envious, flipping their people around like they were just crops of corn, igniting unreasonable wars and throwing citizens to the streets, hungry. Those Royals were the most insufferable people alive, and to them, seeing someone like me was often a disgrace. 

Then you had the alphas, who were all dominant and held biological power over others, just like the pure blood did. Though they didn't bear the title of a Royal, being in positions of Betas, Gammas, and warriors. Right behind them were betas who could have the same status, though it was more rare, and they weren't as prick-headed. Then there were the deltas who were usually warriors or doctors and such, sometimes even servants. 

These weren't cast in iron, but those were the norms of our society. Anything outside of it wasn't acceptable.

Hence people loathed me. 

Because at last there were the omegas, a group of people who were oppressed and hated, yet desired and hunted. That is why there were so few of them, usually only a handful per capital.

And I was a part of that group.

We were tiny, lacked physical strength, and were genetically designed to submit, which made us easy to oppress. Additionally, we had a gift that no other werewolves weren't blessed with.

We could bear children, regardless of gender. Our scent was sweeter than usual, and our beauty held no competition. Thick thighs, long calves, and a short torso with wide hips. The facial features sharp but soft, every one of us having something distinctive. Our bodies were designed simply for production and sex. That is why the higher you climbed to the top, the more attracted the members of those came towards us; meaning that to the pure blood, we were nearly irresistible.

It was also the reason why I had chosen this path I was now walking on. I hadn't been able decide whom I was born as, coming into this unjust world for people to think they could simply use me and tie me down.

We were taken to the high-priced brothels and to Royals' dungeons, never seeing the light of day. We were slaves, and we were objectified to the point where only a select saw us humane. 

But I hadn't let that fate fall on my doorstep. I had fought against that unwritten rule, and I fought anyone who had tried to enslave me with that idealism. Because I was a free omega, the one and only omega in our kingdoms who held the title of the Head Warrior. 

The omega who would never submit to another man.