The Omega Attacked the Alpha - Chapter 3

As Song Tao spoke, the sweltering heat of the summer night seemed to evaporate instantly. A chilling aura emanated from the Alpha’s imposing frame, leaving his subordinates barely daring to breathe.

Yet the two protagonists saw only each other. It was as if the rest of the world had dissolved into a blurred phantom, leaving behind only the slow current of their shared history, bringing a buried past back to vivid life.

Song Tao didn’t flinch. His expression was one of such sincere innocence that even the shadows cast by his eyelashes looked harmless.

In reality, he was savoring the moment. He relished the fury his answer provoked in Qin Zheng. He could see exactly what Qin Zheng was thinking: Who do you think you are, Song Tao? How dare you forget me! What right do you have? If anyone is going to do the forgetting, it should be me forgetting a thief and a lapdog like you!

How dare you forget me while I still remember you!

Such was the pride of Prince Qin.

Qin Zheng’s fingers, hanging by his sides, curled inward and then slowly released. “Seize him,” he commanded coldly.

The corners of Song Tao’s mouth twitched upward for a fraction of a second before he suppressed the smile.

“Seize him” means “don’t kill him.”

The bodyguard closest to him hoisted him up. Song Tao watched Qin Zheng turn to leave, thinking that he had indeed matured. Years ago, Qin Zheng would have grabbed him by the throat and hauled him up himself.

Hah—what a performance.

Song Tao couldn’t stand this new persona. His grayish-blue eyes darted around as a mischievous idea took root. “Brother,” he called out, his voice clear and bright.

Qin Zheng stopped dead in his tracks.

He didn’t turn around, so Song Tao remained silent. Because the boss had stopped, the bodyguard holding Song Tao didn’t dare move either.

Undercurrents surged.

Qin Zheng’s expression was dark enough to wring water from. It had been far too long since he’d heard that title.

How dare he call me that!

Qin Zheng turned his head just slightly. From the corner of his eye, he saw Song Tao facing the bodyguard holding him. “Brother, you’re hurting me,” Song Tao said softly. “Could you be a little more gentle?”

Qin Zheng’s neck let out an audible creak as he forced his head to stop turning.

How dare he call someone else “Brother”!

The bodyguard looked utterly dazed by the beauty in front of him, struggling to maintain his professional composure. Meanwhile, Song Tao, whose back was to Qin Zheng let a cunning smile dance in his doe-like eyes.

Song Tao’s hands were cuffed behind his back, and his personal terminal had been confiscated.

He was thrown into a small, barren room. He didn’t complain; he was a man who took things as they came. Sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, he propped up one leg and rested the other across his knee, swinging it leisurely.

He didn’t look like a prisoner at all.

Even the guards watching the monitors were baffled. This room had held many people, but none had ever been this relaxed or this beautiful.

“Look at those legs,” one guard muttered, his voice laced with greed. The legs were straight with beautiful muscle definition, suggesting a hidden, explosive power. “Bet those would feel great wrapped around a waist.”

His colleague shook his head. “Too long. An Omega being that tall just puts pressure on us Alphas.”

The two began a typical debate over whether large or petite Omegas were better. They spoke with the unearned confidence of men who believed they could have whoever they wanted, though in reality, they could only stand behind a screen and salivate over Song Tao.

In the bedroom, the lighting was dim, casting faces into deep shadow.

The figure leaning against the sofa looked lonely, a thin trail of smoke rising from the cigarette between his fingers. The glowing orange tip remained motionless for a long time until the owner finally remembered it, bringing it to his thin lips for a drag just before it burned out.

Qin Zheng was lost in a daze. The moment he saw Song Tao, he felt a localized distortion of time.

It was mostly due to the white shirt and black shorts Song Tao was wearing. It was the exact same outfit he wore when he first appeared before Qin Zheng twelve years ago.

It was also what he was wearing five years later on the day he left. During those five years under the same roof, Qin Zheng couldn’t count how many times he’d seen Song Tao leave and return in that same attire.

Until the day he vanished for good.

Now that he had reappeared, it felt as if those twelve years of separation had never happened. It was as if he had simply grown up under Qin Zheng’s nose, went out to play for a while, and had finally come home.

Qin Zheng crushed the spent cigarette and tossed it aside irritably.

Why did he come back? Why does someone who left think they can just return?

And he had the audacity to forget. Qin Zheng’s eyes turned predatory as he reached up to touch the small mole at the corner of his own eye.

He deserves to die.

His terminal chirped; his pheromone levels were spiking due to his anger.

A knock sounded at the door. “Enter,” Qin Zheng said.

When the subordinate opened the door, he felt like he was stepping into a predator’s den. As a fellow Alpha, the aggressive pheromones in the air made him deeply uncomfortable. He endured it, keeping his head down as he approached. “Sir, the terminal has been unlocked.”

The subordinate left.

Qin Zheng looked at the device in his hand—an old model. It seemed Song Tao’s father hadn’t found another wealthy “benefactor” for the two of them to bleed dry. Their lives clearly hadn’t been easy on their own.

A pair of losers.

He opened the terminal and poured a drink, checking the contents as he sipped. There were three job-hunting apps; Song Tao had registered as a delivery driver and a courier. Beyond that, he also taught online classes on engineering and mechanics for elementary schoolers.

Qin Zheng scoffed. A college dropout who took a leave of absence after his first semester had the nerve to teach? What a way to mislead the youth.

He looked through the contact list and realized the motive behind Song Tao’s recent actions. His expression darkened further, and he downed his drink in one go, slamming the glass onto the table.

He’s even taking hitman contracts now.

The thought of how Song Tao had been living all these years made Qin Zheng’s chest heave with rage, nearly straining the buttons of his shirt.

Suddenly, his brow furrowed. He noticed an inconspicuous icon in the corner.

A diary? People still kept those?

Driven by curiosity, he clicked it and scrolled to the very first entry.

Dad got married again. But this uncle’s son doesn’t like me, so I can’t live with them. Dad rented an apartment for me. From now on, I have to live alone.

Qin Zheng pulled the screen closer. So, Song Chijing had remarried? The date was February 12, 3178—five years after they left the Qin family, when Song Tao was fifteen. Song Chijing had married and left his son behind.

The pheromone monitor chirped again.

A diary entry from two weeks later: Winter is so cold when you’re alone.

The next day: I don’t know why, but I suddenly thought of Qin Zheng today. Thinking back, he was actually okay. At least he didn’t make my dad leave me behind. I remember he always caught colds in the winter and hated taking medicine. He’s so childish. Fine, I’ll be kind and hope he doesn’t get a cold this year.

Qin Zheng hadn’t expected to see his own name. He stared at the entry for a long time, and the pheromone monitor finally fell silent.

The diary wasn’t updated daily, so the timeline moved quickly.

It’s New Year’s. Dad didn’t invite me over, but he said he’d come spend the evening with me. 

The following day: [Dad didn’t come. Their family went on a trip.

Qin Zheng’s monitor began chirping again.

August 16, 3179

I presented as an Omega! For some reason, I thought of Qin Zheng again. He’ll probably be an Alpha. Hmph.

Qin Zheng looked at the little emoticon and could perfectly visualize Song Tao making that exact face. “What are you ‘hmph-ing’ about?” he muttered.

It felt as if he were talking across time to the sixteen-year-old Song Tao. He wasn’t surprised by the presentation; Song Tao had always looked like an Omega.

A month later, the diary updated again.

I’m in heat today.

Qin Zheng’s pupils contracted sharply at those words. He awkwardly shifted his gaze away. He had seen many Omegas in heat; many would intentionally seek him out, trying to lure him into marking them with their pheromones. He loathed it. Over time, he had developed a deep-seated aversion to the gender, feeling no desire for them whatsoever.

He tried to scroll past it quickly, but his name caught his eye again. Why would Song Tao mention him while recording his heat? Curiosity won out.

Heat feels terrible. It’s miserable. In my blurred state of mind, I thought of Qin Zheng again.

Qin Zheng pressed his lips together and lit a cigarette. The lemon scent filled his mouth, fresh and cooling.

I really envy him. Alphas don’t have it this hard, do they? Alphas have ruts. Does Qin Zheng stroke his cock during his rut the way I’m doing now?

The cigarette in Qin Zheng’s mouth burned down rapidly. The pheromone monitor let out a sharp, piercing alarm.

But I’m not very good at it. If we were still together, he could teach me. Or maybe he could help me do it. Of course, he’d probably mock me the whole time, but that’s okay. He might not be taller or stronger than me now. I could cover his mouth so he couldn’t speak. I could pin his tongue with my hand or reach into his throat to stir things up. I could bully him relentlessly while making him work me off.

“Heh—”

Qin Zheng let out a cold laugh and stopped reading.

“Iron windows, iron doors, iron chains. innocent me, tears falling.”

Song Tao sang softly to himself. He wondered which entry Qin Zheng had reached.

The door swung open. A grim-faced guard ordered him out. Song Tao stood up with a relaxed air. It seemed Qin Zheng had finished the entry about the heat.

He was led through a series of winding corridors. He looked around as he walked; the place hadn’t changed much. Judging by the route, was Qin Zheng planning to meet him in the bedroom?

That was rare. Qin Zheng’s bedroom used to be a forbidden zone. Once, Qin Yuchen had sent him to fetch Qin Zheng. When no one answered his knock, he had stepped inside. Qin Zheng had emerged from the bathroom and literally beaten him out of the room, even splitting his forehead open.

He had been five then; Qin Zheng was eight.

Song Tao stepped into the bedroom alone, and the door clicked shut behind him. Only the two of them remained. If one ignored their history, the Alpha-Omega dynamic in the room felt almost intimate.

Song Tao dropped the act of not knowing him. He strode forward. Qin Zheng, leaning back on the sofa like a king, didn’t move, though his dangerous gaze followed Song Tao’s every step.

Song Tao sat down boldly on the table.

Before he could even say hello, a powerful hand clamped around his neck. The grip was nearly enough to crush his windpipe, and Qin Zheng’s ring finger brushed dangerously close to his scent gland.

Song Tao wasn’t afraid. He teased, “That’s a very unique way to say hello.”

The next second, he was forcefully yanked off the table, forced to his knees on the floor between Qin Zheng’s legs. Because of the grip on his throat, his head was forced back. His thick black hair shifted, partially obscuring his eyes. He looked up at the Alpha who was silently asserting his dominance through force, and then pointedly looked at what was directly in front of his face.

“What? You want a blowjob?”

The hand on his throat tightened instantly, but Song Tao clearly saw Qin Zheng’s ears turn red.

Damn. He’s actually a prude.

“That mouth of yours really needs to be silenced,” Qin Zheng said in a low, gravelly voice.

He released the death grip on Song Tao’s neck, only to thrust his fingers into Song Tao’s mouth, mimicking the “stirring” Song Tao had described in his diary. Qin Zheng stared down with the eyes of a victor, watching as those doe-like eyes turned red from discomfort and filled with moisture.

He felt confident now. Who was toyng with whom? His fingertips repeatedly brushed against Song Tao’s tongue.

Elsewhere, Wei Siqi ran from the bedroom to the study, looking at the computer screen where a perfect set of fingerprints was being finalized.

“Holy crap! He got them that fast!”

Back in the room, the normally compliant Song Tao suddenly bit down on Qin Zheng’s hand. His eyes were anything but innocent as he spoke slowly:

“Your ‘hand’ is too thin.”

He was talking about a hand. But Qin Zheng felt he was talking about something else entirely.