⚠️ The following chapter includes content that may be uncomfortable for some readers. Please proceed with care.
"Excuse me? Am I making you uncomfortable?" Valentina raised her voice.
"Please lower your voice and step off the train, or we'll have to call security," the train worker said, grabbing her backpack.
"Get your hands off me," Valentina snapped, yanking the bag from his grip.
As Valentina was removed from the train under stares full of disgust and horror, her stomach clenched, her legs threatened to freeze, a knot tightened in her throat, and her hands buzzed with adrenaline. She wanted to call the police, to explain the shame they were putting her through.
She didn't understand this country. She didn't understand what was happening—why she was being treated like this. She had done nothing wrong, yet they were treating her like a criminal.
She was dragged off the train. Humiliated again. And when she turned to look one more time at the passengers' faces, searching for a glance of compassion, a silent understanding of the injustice—she found only accusing eyes, blades disguised as looks.
But instead of collapsing, she was met by two police officers.
"Excuse me. We're going to need you to come with us," one of them said, keeping a meter's distance.
She asked for explanations, but none were given. When she hesitated to move, they warned her they'd use force.
They walked roughly ten blocks, one officer in front and the other behind, keeping a precise meter apart. The social humiliation was far from over.
At the station, she was placed in a cold, gray room. They confiscated all her belongings "for safety," as they said. She was afraid. She bit her lip. Curled her feet. Forced herself to breathe while scanning the room.
Panic crept in. She didn't know how things had escalated so far. How had her week gone so wrong, in so many directions? All she could think about was running—but her feelings overwhelmed her.
"Sorry for the delay. Not many of us speak your language fluently," the interrogator finally said.
"Why am I here? What have I done wrong?" Valentina asked through tears.
As the officer explained what was happening, none of it made sense. Every word, every sentence sounded like a tongue-twister. She thought maybe her ears were blocked, or the hormones from the morning-after pill were messing with her perception—but no. She had been detained for disturbing public health and attempted abuse of an Omega.
"ABUSE?? HOW COULD I ABUSE AN OMEGA?" she screamed.
"Please calm down. You are being recorded. The scent you're emitting can only come from an Omega under intense emotional distress—it exudes vulnerability."
Valentina explained everything. That she was a Beta. That she couldn't feel anything like that. That her partner was an Omega. She was in the city visiting him—his name was Bastian Ricco.
Only then did she notice it: the officer was wearing gloves and something like a gas mask. She hadn't seen it before. Everything had happened too fast.
They gave her back her phone so she could call Bastian and confirm her story. But he didn't answer. She tried Lucas. No answer. Desperate, she called Andrea—and he picked up, confirming her words.
"Valentina, breathe. Bastian's probably driving. You know you're his priority," Andrea said gently.
Nothing else was said after that. Once they had all her information, the interrogator told her she'd need to shower. She thought maybe—just maybe—the nightmare was ending.
She would shower, apply the suppressor they'd give her, and take the first train or flight out.
She promised herself she'd never return. Not after this humiliation.
But it didn't end there.
When she stepped out of the shower, two female officers were waiting—alongside a male officer.
"Why is there a man here? Could someone please hand me a towel?" Valentina asked, covering herself with the curtain.
"We'll apply the suppressant. I'm an Omega—you can relax," the man said.
"You're a man. I can do it myself. I don't need anyone's help," Valentina said, shaking.
Her refusal was ignored. Once again, she was degraded. Dehumanized. Touched in every corner, her body opened by the women under the watchful eyes of the male Omega.
She couldn't hold back the tears echoing through the tiled room. The shame was dismissed. They marked her with their eyes. Sniffed her like spoiled food. And when it was over, they left her in silence.
No towel. She found a blouse and pants that weren't hers. She wanted to ask about her clothes... but she couldn't stay naked. She changed and went to find someone—to demand an explanation.
But as she opened the door, the interrogator was already waiting.
"Apologies for not telling you earlier. Your clothes were burned due to pheromone contamination. The rest of your belongings will be returned tomorrow," he said, handing her a transparent bag with her wallet.
One more day. Whose clothes were these, she wondered? She was alone. Her phone was still confiscated. But more than anything—she couldn't make sense of what was still happening.
Perhaps out of pity, the interrogator softened. He offered to guide her to a nearby hotel, as his shift was about to end—but first, she needed to sign a few papers so she could return the next day to collect her things.
Valentina agreed. She didn't want to—but she had to be rational. She had to be Beta. She couldn't let emotions rule her, or she'd be crushed.
As she approached the documents, she realized she couldn't read them. They weren't in her language—or even a universal one. When she complained, the response was short and cold: "We don't speak your language."
She had no choice but to sign.
She waited at the entrance for thirty minutes. For a while, no one looked at her. It gave her a moment of relief as she stared down at the unfamiliar clothes she now wore.
When the interrogator approached, the pressure returned. She felt the eyes again.
The man seemed used to being the center of attention. She noticed it in his breathing, in the subtle smirks he gave to others before walking out the door with her. No one said a word.
Pheromones? Valentina wondered. Maybe someone—or several—wanted to say something. It didn't feel normal that a police officer would offer help so casually to a Beta in trouble. Or worse: a Beta accused of abuse.
They walked ten minutes to a hotel. He was much taller than her, possibly the same age or a bit older. Perhaps an Alpha. A serpent tattoo wrapped around his neck.
At the hotel, the officer walked ahead to speak with the staff. She didn't understand why, but assumed it wasn't his first time.
When she was about to thank him and say goodbye, he asked her to come to his room.Of course, Valentina refused. But he insisted—he had something to tell her in private and couldn't say it out there, in front of everyone.There was something in the way he said it that made her pause. Not quite a threat. Not quite safe, either.After everything that had happened, she didn't feel like she could say no—even if she wanted to.
"I won't be at the station tomorrow. But I strongly recommend you collect your things and never set foot here again. Do you understand me? Don't come back."
Valentina was ready to argue—but he opened the door and left before she could speak. She followed after him, but as she stepped through, the door closed behind her. She turned to open it again... but the officer was gone.