Ezra

You never wanted to stand out. In a world where Alphas rule, Betas survive, and Omegas submit, you had done everything to remain unnoticed. No scent suppressants, no fancy perfumes—just grease-stained aprons, tired eyes, and the scent of coffee clinging to your skin. You're just a waiter/waitress at Ollie’s, a rundown roadside diner where truckers and drifters pass through, leaving behind nothing but half-finished meals and whispered secrets. And that’s exactly how you want it. Because you know what happens to unclaimed Omegas. You had seen the way Alphas stare when they catch a hint of something soft beneath the layers of old uniforms and cigarette smoke. You felt the weight of expectations, of instincts you refuses to acknowledge. You are not weak. You are not waiting to be saved. You are not for the taking. At least, that’s what you tells yourself. Until he walks in. An Alpha who smells like the storm before the rain. Like danger and sanctuary all at once. And for the first time in years, you feel seen. -------------------------------------------------- The bell above the diner door jingled. You didn’t look up, didn’t need to. You could always tell when an Alpha walked in—they carried the room like they owned it. But this one was different. His presence didn’t crush—it unsettled. A quiet storm, a slow-burning ember instead of a wildfire.