Aden POV

Dixon’s cruel, predatory grin widened as he stepped toward me, eager to redirect the humiliation of his empty wallet onto an easier target. He gestured broadly to the gleaming glass displays and the pristine white marble of Sanderson Profumeria.

"This place reeks of power, Omega," Dixon sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. He deliberately pushed his dark pine pheromones toward me, trying to force my submission. "It must be suffocating for someone scentless like you. Go back to your trash cans; that's the only scent you'll ever be able to afford."

Beside him, Sylvia wrinkled her nose. She looked at me not with pity, but with raw, undisguised disgust, as if I were a cockroach that had just scurried across her designer shoes.

Yesterday, their words would have crushed me. Today, the dormant Lycan in my blood merely let out a low, calculating rumble. I didn't cower. I didn't look away. I walked right past Dixon’s broad shoulders, ignoring his Alpha posturing entirely, and stopped directly in front of the glass counter.

I pointed to the velvet pedestal under the spotlight. "I'll take the *Liquid Diamond*."

The snobbish female sales associate blinked, her synthetic smile twisting into a hard sneer. She took a subtle breath, confirming my absolute lack of scent, and crossed her arms. "Sir, this fragrance is crafted to amplify a dominant wolf's pheromones. On... you... it would be like putting a crown on a stray dog. Pointless."

I didn't argue. I reached into the pocket of my faded gray hoodie, pulled out the heavy, black Centurion Card, and placed it coldly on the glass counter.

Dixon barked a harsh, mocking laugh that echoed through the boutique. "A black card? You really expect us to believe a wolfless trash collector has a Centurion Card? It's a fake."

Sylvia’s eyes narrowed with venomous spite. She couldn't stand the idea that the boy she had discarded might dare to pretend he was anything more than dirt. She turned sharply toward the uniformed Pack Warrior standing on duty near the entrance.

"He's disturbing the future Alpha of the Black Moon Pack," Sylvia announced loudly, her voice shrill with malicious intent. "If his payment fails, he's not just a fraud, he's a challenger. You know the Pack law for dealing with insolent Omegas."

The Warrior’s eyes darkened. He stepped forward, his heavy boots thudding against the marble, his hand resting menacingly on his silver-tipped baton. The threat of violence hung thick in the air. Everyone in the store—the associate, the security, my ex-girlfriend, and my tormentor—waited eagerly for my destruction.

The sales associate picked up the heavy metal card with trembling, hesitant fingers. She swiped it through the terminal.

The machine processed. The silence in the boutique was absolute, broken only by the rapid, arrogant beating of Dixon's heart.

*Beep.*

The screen flashed a bright, undeniable green.

*Payment Approved: $300,000.00.*

The associate’s jaw practically unhinged. The color drained from her perfectly contoured face, leaving her looking like a ghost. Dixon’s mocking laughter died instantly in his throat, his golden eyes bulging as he stared at the terminal. Sylvia froze, her mouth slightly open, her brain completely short-circuiting at the impossible reality.

"S-sir," the associate stammered, her voice trembling with sudden, terrified reverence. She quickly boxed the perfume, her hands shaking so badly she nearly dropped it. "Your... your purchase."

I took the velvet box from her hands. The room was dead silent as I turned and walked slowly toward Sylvia.

Her eyes widened. A flicker of greedy, desperate hope suddenly replaced her shock. She thought I was still that pathetic, lovesick puppy. She thought I had just spent a fortune to win her back. As I extended the box toward her, she instinctively reached out, her manicured fingers brushing the velvet.

I opened my hand.

The box plummeted. It hit the marble floor with a sharp, explosive crash.

Purple liquid and shattered glass sprayed across the pristine white tiles, splashing violently onto Sylvia's bare legs and designer heels. The overwhelmingly potent scent of Moonpetal extract flooded the room, thick and suffocating.

Sylvia shrieked, jumping back.

I looked down at her, my voice dropping to a glacial, commanding octave that sent a visible shiver down her spine. "A scent to cover up the reek of desperation. On the house."

I didn't wait to see the furious, humiliated flush creeping up Dixon's neck. I turned my back on their stunned, pale faces and walked toward the exit, my worn-out sneakers crunching satisfyingly over the shattered glass of the *Liquid Diamond*.

Aden POV

The crunch of shattered glass beneath my worn sneakers was the only sound I cared to hear. The air in the corridor was already suffocating, thick with the overwhelmingly sweet, heavy scent of the spilled Moonpetal extract. I kept walking, my spine straight, feeling the dormant Lycan in my blood purr with a dark, glacial satisfaction.

"Stop right there, thief!"

The furious, booming roar echoed through the pristine marble halls of The Azure Galleria.

I paused, slowly turning my head. Dixon Cooper stormed out of Sanderson Profumeria, his face flushed a violent, mottled red. His dark pine Alpha pheromones flared wildly, reeking of desperation and wounded pride. He couldn't accept it. A future Alpha had just been financially and socially butchered by the lowest creature on the Pack hierarchy. He needed to reclaim his dominance, and he needed to do it now.

"That Centurion Card is stolen!" Dixon shouted, pointing a trembling finger at me. His voice carried, intentionally drawing the attention of the high-ranking wolves strolling through the luxury mall. "A scentless stray like you could never possess one legally!"

Sylvia scurried out right behind him. Her designer heels were ruined, her bare legs sticky with the purple liquid I had dropped at her feet. Her beautiful face was twisted into a mask of pure, venomous spite.

"He's a fraud!" she shrieked to the gathering crowd, her voice echoing off the glass storefronts. "He collects garbage for a living! Arrest him!"

I didn't flinch. I just stared at them, my expression dead and cold. The old Aden would have panicked, stammering to defend himself against the Alpha's word. But the ancient beast waking in my marrow only viewed them as pathetic, barking dogs.

My silence only infuriated Dixon further. He marched forward, his golden eyes flashing with a sudden, malicious cunning.

"He's not just a card thief," Dixon announced loudly, his gaze locking onto the cheap, faded backpack slung over my shoulder. "While he made that scene smashing the perfume, I saw him pocket something else!"

My blood ran cold. Not from fear, but from the sheer, audacious cowardice of the lie.

Before I could even open my mouth, two massive Pack Warriors in tailored security uniforms stepped out from the crowd, flanking me instantly. Their heavy hands rested on their silver-tipped batons, their aggressive auras pressing down on my scentless frame.

Denita, the store manager, emerged from the boutique. Her professional smile was gone, replaced by a mask of severe, corporate authority. "Sir, given the accusation from the future Alpha of the Black Moon Pack, I must ask you to step back inside. We need to inspect your belongings."

I looked at Dixon. He offered me a subtle, cruel wink. He had set a trap in the chaos, and I had walked right into it.

I didn't resist the Warriors. I let them escort me back into the blindingly white boutique. The crowd of elite wolves followed, their eyes burning with judgment and morbid curiosity, forming a suffocating ring around the main counter. I was no longer the mysterious buyer; I was the Omega on trial.

"Search it," I said, my voice dropping to a glacial octave.

I pulled the backpack off my shoulder and slammed it onto the pristine marble counter.

Denita stepped forward, slipping on a pair of immaculate white cotton gloves. The boutique was dead silent as she unzipped the main compartment.

She reached in and pulled out a battered, dog-eared university textbook. Then a spiral notebook with a torn cover. Finally, a crushed half of a peanut butter sandwich wrapped in cheap plastic.

A ripple of mocking laughter swept through the crowd of aristocrats. Sylvia let out a sharp, triumphant giggle, leaning heavily against Dixon's arm. The pathetic remnants of my poverty looked absurd against the backdrop of diamonds and luxury perfumes.

"Is this the grand thief?" someone in the crowd sneered.

I kept my eyes locked on Dixon, waiting for his lie to collapse.

But Denita's gloved hand reached deeper into the bottom corner of the bag. She paused. Her brow furrowed.

When she pulled her hand out, the mocking laughter in the room instantly died.

Pinched between her white-gloved fingers was a small, shimmering glass vial. The liquid inside glowed with a faint, ethereal silver light.

It was a vial of pure Moonpetal Essence.

A collective gasp echoed through the boutique. My breath hitched in my throat. I stared at the glowing vial, the reality of Dixon's sleight-of-hand crashing over me. When I had dropped the perfume box, when everyone's eyes were on the shattering glass and Sylvia's scream, he had slipped it into my bag.

Sylvia let out a shrill, victorious laugh.

Dixon crossed his arms, his chest puffing out as he looked down at me. A slow, sadistic smile spread across his face, his golden eyes shining with the absolute certainty that he had just buried me alive.