Alpha Academy: The Omega in disguise

Elias’s POV

The room was too quiet.

Even with the hum of the ventilation system and the faint flicker of light from the digital clock, the silence pressed in like a weight. I sat on the edge of the bunk, elbows on my knees, staring at the metal floor until the numbers on the clock blurred.

22:47.

Ronan’s voice still echoed in my head.

“If you’re going to lie, do it better.”

It hadn’t been loud, but it hit harder than a punch. The kind of words that stayed, even after the person was gone.

He’d known something. Not what, not completely, but enough to see that I wasn’t what I claimed to be.

That meant I’d slipped again.

My hand brushed the collar at my throat — the faint, silent hum steady against my pulse. It was still active, still suppressing the chemical signatures in my blood. But suppression didn’t equal erasure. And Ronan’s sense of smell wasn’t normal.

Neither was his focus.

He didn’t just watch people. He read them, the same way predators read fear. And now, I was in his sights.

I exhaled slowly and opened the small lockbox under my bunk. Inside, a row of vials lay in their foam slots, lined up like soldiers in perfect order.

Except for one — cracked along the edge, its contents dried to a faint silver residue.

That had been my last pure vial. The others were weaker blends — diluted, unstable, and only good enough for masking. Not survival. I picked one up anyway, rolling it between my fingers as if the motion itself could calm me.

It didn’t.

I needed to contact the supplier my mother once trusted. But that meant reaching beyond the Academy’s firewalls. That meant being tracked.

Risk layered over risk.

I closed the box and stood, crossing to the small sink where I splashed water on my face. Cold, sharp. It helped clear the fog in my head.

In the mirror, a stranger stared back, dark hair still damp from training, a faint bruise under my jaw where Ronan’s blow had landed earlier. The bruise would heal by morning. The damage beneath wouldn’t.

I didn’t look away until the collar pulsed once — a soft, timed reminder that another suppressant dose was due soon. I ignored it.

Not yet.

I needed my mind clear, not chemically dulled.

A soft beep broke the stillness. Door access alert.

Someone was outside.

I tensed automatically, senses narrowing. Only two people had access clearance to this floor at night — Vale and Ronan.

The second beep came faster.

I moved silently to the wall panel and checked the log.

Ronan.

Of course.

For a second, I considered not answering. But ignoring him would only feed suspicion. And Ronan wasn’t the type to leave quietly when curiosity bit deep.

I opened the door.

He didn’t wait for an invitation.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, stepping inside like the room already belonged to him.

I kept my expression neutral. “You usually do rounds at midnight?”

“I don’t usually have reasons to,” he said, eyes scanning the space. “Until now.”

I didn’t reply.

He looked different out of training gear, still in black, but without the academy crest jacket. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, veins visible, tension controlled but present. Every movement was measured.

Predator calm.

“You always this quiet?” he asked finally.

“Depends who’s asking.”

His mouth twitched, almost like he found that amusing. “You didn’t report for med clearance after training.”

“I wasn’t injured.”

“That’s not the kind of report I meant.”

He let the words hang. I met his gaze and said nothing.

Ronan took another slow step closer. “You were in the restricted wing.”

“You said that already.”

“I also said you don’t have clearance.”

“Neither do you,” I shot back.

For a heartbeat, the tension snapped taut. Then his eyes narrowed slightly; not angry, just sharper.

“Maybe,” he said. “But I’m not the one hiding what I am.”

My pulse spiked. I hid it with a slow breath.

“You really like making accusations without proof.”

“And you really like giving me reasons to look closer.”

He stopped right in front of me, barely a foot away. Too close. His scent; dark, earthy, steady, filled the space, threading through the sterile air. I’d spent years controlling my reactions, but proximity was dangerous.

Especially with an Alpha this strong.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes studying my face like he could strip away the lie with a look.

“Your scent,” he said quietly, “doesn’t match your records.”

My jaw tightened. “Maybe the scanners are wrong.”

“They’re not.”

He didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Just waited.

The room felt smaller with him in it.

My voice came out steady, even if my heartbeat wasn’t. “What exactly do you think I am?”

He leaned in just enough for his breath to graze my skin. “Something worth finding out.”

I stepped back. “You should leave.”

“I should,” he said, not moving. “But I won’t.”

“Why?”

He smiled — small, humorless. “Because you’re lying to me, and I hate unfinished puzzles.”

There it was again; that quiet, restrained curiosity that made him more dangerous than anyone shouting threats. He wasn’t trying to expose me. Not yet. He wanted to understand me first.

And that was worse.

“Go,” I said, sharper this time.

He studied me a beat longer, then nodded once. “Fine. But Arden…” his tone softened just slightly …“whatever secret you’re keeping, you’re running out of time to hide it.”

He turned toward the door.

And then, just as he opened it, the air shifted.

The faintest pulse of heat slid under my skin. Too quick. Too small. But enough for a trace of my true scent to slip through the suppressant’s control.

It wasn’t much. Barely a whisper.

But Ronan froze mid-step.

He didn’t turn around immediately, he didn’t need to. The muscle in his jaw flexed once. Then, slowly, he looked back over his shoulder.

His eyes met mine; darker than before, sharper.

And I knew.

He’d caught it.

Only for a second, but enough to confirm what instinct had already told him: I wasn’t an Alpha.

Not fully.

I kept my posture steady, forcing the suppressant to level out again, locking everything down until the faint chemical buzz returned.

Ronan said nothing.

He didn’t have to.

He just nodded once more to himself than me and walked out, the door sliding shut behind him.

The silence that followed felt heavier than before.

I sank back against the wall, breath uneven, the metallic taste of fear sharp in my mouth. My collar’s pulse steadied again, but it felt like a countdown now, not a protection.

Ronan wasn’t guessing anymore.

He knew.

And the worst part?...He wasn’t going to expose me.Not yet.

He was going to watch and wait.Until he understood everything.