Reborn as a villain:Claim the omega, Kiss the beta, Kill the dukes Chapter 4: Lavender

Chapter Three

Ciel

It’s... warm.

Soft, too.

The kind of warmth that seeps into your bones, the kind that feels almost dangerous because you know it can be taken away.

My lashes flutter open slowly, as though I’m waking from a dream I wasn’t supposed to survive. The ceiling above is clean, white, unfamiliar. No mildew stains. No flickering light. No stench of motor oil or urine-soaked concrete.

Just... lavender.

And sothing else. A storm, maybe. Earthy. Calming. Like sunlight hitting wet grass.

I jolt upright too fast. Pain lances through my back, down my ribs, and I choke on a hiss, biting my lip to keep from crying out.

Where am I?

My gaze darts around the room. It’s big. Too big. Modern. Elegant. Not the gutted warehouses and burned-out alleys I’ve been hiding in for weeks.

Then I see it: an IV drip at my side.

A tube running into the back of my hand.

My heart stumbles.

Did they catch ? Did one of them drag back?

My fingers twitch toward the line, ready to rip it out—

And freeze halfway.

My stomach.

My trembling hands press down gently. Searching.

And there it is.

A swell. A flutter. The faintest ripple of life.

A sob claws out of .

My child. Still alive.

Tears sting my eyes and spill before I can stop them. Relief crashes through so hard it leaves shaking. I curl protectively around the bump, cradling it, rocking faintly like the motion alone could keep us safe.

The fear lingers—it always lingers—but beneath it, sothing fragile flickers to life inside my chest.

Hope.

Whoever brought here didn’t hurt . They helped.

That thought alone feels foreign. Dangerous. Trust is a knife; I’ve learned that too many tis. But this place doesn’t sll like them.

No cloying alpha pheromones. No suffocating dominance that forces your knees to buckle.

Only calm.

And lavender.

I swipe at my eyes and glance around again. Slower. Softer.

And... who saved ?

The bed is too soft. Too warm. My body wants to sink into it, but my mind screams that this is wrong, dangerous. I keep still. I’ve learned: don’t draw attention. Don’t move until you’re told. Don’t ask for more than you’re given.

My throat burns with thirst. My stomach aches with hunger. But I don’t move. Whoever saved —they’ll co. They must know I’m awake.

And then I catch it. Faint. That lavender again. Only it’s not soap. Not detergent.

It’s pheromones.

Alpha pheromones.

My heart stutters.

I’ve slled hundreds. Overpowering. Violent. Smoke. Steel. Ash. Leather. The kind that stick to your skin long after the alpha is gone.

But this... this is different.

It’s sumr grass. A storm rolling in. Sunshine after rain.

And suddenly I don’t know if I should be terrified, or grateful.

Because alphas don’t save ogas like out of kindness. There’s always a price.

My body is the only currency I’ve ever had to trade.

If he wants it... I’ll endure it. I always endure.

Then—

A shadow falls over the doorway.

"You’re awake?"

I jerk at the sound.

A man leans against the doorfra. Not dressed in silks or uniforms or jewelry like the dukes. Just joggers and a black t-shirt that clings faintly across broad shoulders.

He’s... handso. Not in their way. Not polished or cold or sculpted from marble.

His skin is a warm brown, sun-kissed and alive—so different from the dukes’ powdered porcelain. His jawline is sharp, softened by stubble. Black curls fall against his forehead, catching the light. His eyes—dark, steady—watch . Not devouring. Not dismissing. Just... watching.

Real.

He looks like the kind of alpha I used to see at market as a child. The ones who laughed too loud and carried crates of lons on their backs. The kind I thought—once, before everything—that I might want to follow ho.

My gaze lingers. I can’t stop it.

"Are you okay?" he asks, voice rough, low—but laced with sothing I don’t expect. Concern.

I blink at him, startled.

I hadn’t realized I was staring. My lips part, but no sound cos out.