All Chapters of His Purchased Omega : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

"Finally getting rid of that useless Omega upstairs," his father snorts, clinking glasses with his guests like they were sealing a business deal. "Little shit's been a drain since his mother died. But tonight? He'll pay my debts in full." Julian's stomach drops where he's pressed against the worn out wooden doors. He knows the men downstairs are not the usual low-life gamblers his father keeps company with. These voices carry the kind of danger that makes your hair stand on end. One of the stranger's voices reaches him. "You understand that Enzo Moretti doesn't take refunds? Once the deal's done, your boy belongs to him forever." Julian's blood runs cold. *Enzo Moretti.* The name alone sends ice sliding down Julian's spine. He has heard it whispered in dark corners of his father's gambling shop–owner of one of the city's largest firearms trade networks, rumored to be one of the biggest supporters of auctions and private clubs where desperate families sell their Omegas. E

Julian wakes to sunlight slicing through the half-open curtains of the hotel suite. His body aches everywhere--deep bruises on his hips, a bite mark throbbing on his neck, and a raw soreness between his legs that makes every shift painful. The sheets cling to his skin, sticky with the remnants of last night’s frenzy. The man is a beast in bed! Enzo's pheromones still linger in the room, but they smell far calmer now, settling with the Aircon. Enzo stands by the window, already dressed in a crisp black shirt and trousers, scrolling through his phone. The two thick stacks of cash remain untouched on the nightstand. Julian sits up slowly, wincing as he reaches for his discarded hoodie and jeans scattered on the floor. "You're leaving," Enzo states, not a question. He turns, eyes tracing Julian's marked neck and the way he limps toward his clothes. His silver eyes flash possessively. Julian doesn't respond, pulling his jeans back up with trembling hands. Enzo frowns slig

Julian's eyes slowly open to the cool touch of latex gloves between his thighs. His wrists are restrained to the headboard of the massive bed in a luxury suite, arms stretched above his head. Soft morning light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but even the view feels like a taunt. He is still naked, legs parted slightly for access, while Dr. Reyes works efficiently, cleaning the hand bruises blooming along his inner thighs and his entrance, each gentle swipe of antiseptic makes Julian flinch. "Hold still," he says quietly, voice clinical. "The bruising is extensive. Deep tissue trauma from… repeated penetration." Julian turns his face away, cheeks flaming. He remembers every detail of his first night in this damned house. The memory of Enzo's brutal rhythm, the way he'd stretched him open and claimed him over and over again, last night. What's worse is the way his own body had responded last night. Again. Reduced to nothing but a clenching, whimpering mess.

"I'll do it," he says, voice barely audible. "I'll put on a show for you." Enzo grins devilishly and slides into the large leather armchair, legs spread, silver eyes locked on Julian with dark expectation. "Then begin. Strip for me. Slowly." Julian nods, fingers shaky as he grabs the hem of his shirt. He pulls it over his head, revealing his lean, pale torso littered with marks from last night. The black collar sits prominently around his throat, the silver lock glinting under the low lights. Julian drops the shirt to the floor slowly. "Pants," Enzo orders. Julian unbuttons his slacks and pushes them down his legs, stepping out of them until he's standing in only his black briefs. The cool air raises goosebumps on his skin. He feels horribly exposed, especially with Enzo watching him so intently. "Take them off," Enzo says quietly. "Everything." Julian hesitates for a long beat, before finally sliding his briefs down and kicking them aside. Now completely naked exc

Kane's card feels like fire in his palm. He lets the phone ring, heart hammering in his chest. Finally after two rings, the familiar deep voice answers. "Yes?" Julian swallows hard, keeping his tone low and steady. "If I give you good information right now, would you pay good?" There's a pause on the other end. "What kind of information?" the voice asks, calm but interested. Julian glances around, making sure no one is too close. "Important information. Very, very useful to you. Will you pay good, yes or no?" "Hmm," the person on the line hums quietly, then sighs, "Yes." Julian exhales shakily. Good. Good. "Okay. I-" "Uptown. My office. 237 South Grand Avenue, top floor. Come now." The voice gives the address and hangs up without waiting for a reply. Julian stares at the phone, heart hammering against his ribs. Is he making the right decision? Maybe not-- but he's desperate right now. The black SUV that had been watching him is nowhere to be found now. Good--