Noah stared at his reflection, utterly horrified. The mirror showed a stranger, a ravaged imitation of himself. His eyes weren't merely swollen; they were bloodshot, surrounded by dark, bruised circles.
His usually flawless blonde hair was matted and sticky. The worst revelation was his body, which had not escaped the abuse. It was a terrifying landscape of red and purplish marks, scrapes, and deep bruises, like someone who had endured a lengthy, brutal captivity before a rescue that never came.
Noah had always taken pride in his appearance—his perfect coloring, the innocent quality of his dark eyes, and his naturally lean, curvaceous physique.
His best friend had often styled him, praising how beautifully he carried clothes, even a gown. Now, that beauty was completely gone. His blonde hair was greasy and gross. His naturally wide, doe eyes were alarmingly red, as if he'd been awake for days consuming harsh substances. Dry tear tracks stained his cheeks.
Looking at himself, Noah was overwhelmed by a crushing wave of self-pity for everything he had endured. He felt a deep, cold hatred for Nick, realizing that killing him over and over would still not extinguish the fire of rage burning in his heart.
A gentle knock interrupted his dark thoughts. He approached the bathroom door cautiously, opening it just a sliver, only wide enough for his head to peek out. The Alpha he had slept with, now fully dressed and looking impossibly immaculate, handed him a crisp paper bag. Noah collected it, figuring immediately that it contained the promised change of clothes.
He didn't bother offering a thank you. He was angry at this man, too. Although he logically understood that the rut and the drug meant the Alpha hadn't acted with malicious intent, Noah couldn't control his consuming resentment. He slammed the door shut.
He stepped back into the bathroom, quickly showered, scrubbing away the last traces of the night, and then pulled on the clothes.
The fine texture of the fabric immediately told him the clothes were expensive, tailored, and luxurious. Noah felt no guilt wearing them. He was desperate to leave this hotel, and he truly didn't care about the cost.
His fury was already propelling him home. He needed to confront Nick in front of their parents. Surely, after this, they couldn't still side with his brother. More importantly, he needed his tuition money. The deadline was in three days.
Noah quickly left the bathroom and entered the lavish bedroom. The Alpha was gone.
He moved into the conjoined sitting room of the presidential suite, where he found the Alpha seated like royalty, talking to another man standing before him.
Noah recognized the standing man as the well-dressed individual who had escorted people out of the elevator last night—the Alpha's personal assistant. Noah correctly surmised this was the man who had brought his new clothing.
The two men were clearly deep in a serious discussion. Noah decided he wouldn't interrupt. He just wanted to slip out quietly, so he began moving gingerly toward the door.
He hadn't even made it halfway when the strong, resonant voice that had haunted him throughout the night—the Alpha's voice—stopped him.
"And where exactly do you think you're going?"
Caught in the act of sneaking out, Noah felt no shame. He turned around confidently, meeting the Alpha's eyes. "Home, of course. Where else can I go?"
The Alpha remained silent, letting his assistant take over. The assistant addressed Noah with a formal, measured tone. "Mr..."
Noah rolled his eyes, filling in the blank. "Noah. Noah Walker."
The assistant nodded stiffly. "Thank you, Mr. Walker. You can't leave yet. The President still has some matters he needs to discuss with you."
Noah did not want to remain in this hotel for one more minute. He spoke as politely as he could manage. "I'm sorry, but I have to leave. I have something urgent going on at home."
The personal assistant was equally determined to prevent his departure. He spoke with a firmer, more intimidating edge to his voice. "You truly cannot leave."
Noah frowned, his politeness dissolving. "So, if I try to leave, are you planning on forcing me to stay?"
The assistant didn't answer verbally, but the way his lips tightened was all the confirmation Noah needed.
This man might actually use physical force. A terrible realization dawned on Noah. He started to fear that he hadn't just slept with a rich Alpha, but perhaps the leader of a dangerous organization.
Why else would the man's assistant be using implied threats after a one-night stand, while the man himself sat silent, looking like a king? This felt like classic bandit behavior.
Noah forced himself to remain calm. He put on a brave front and, despite his wobbly legs, which were now shaking more violently from fear, he walked to the seating area and sat down opposite the Alpha.
"Fine," Noah said, resting his hands on his knees. "I'm sitting now. What do you guys have to say to me?"
The personal assistant opened a slim briefcase, extracted a formal document, and produced an expensive pen, passing both to Noah. Noah's eyes widened in confusion.
What on earth were they giving him? He snatched the document and read it with growing impatience.
It was a non-disclosure agreement.
He skimmed the terms attached to the file. The key clause stated that if he dared to tell anyone what had transpired between himself and Adam Reynolds—the name in the document, confirming the Alpha's identity—he would be liable to pay a penalty of one million dollars.
Noah nearly went mad with disbelief. He was the aggrieved party here. He, a young Omega, had lost his first experience, brutally, to a beast who had tormented him all night, crushing every fantasy he ever had.
But instead of an apology, the tables were turned. They were demanding his silence under threat of financial ruin. One million dollars!
He snickered, his jaws clenched so tightly they ached, his nose flaring with furious scorn. He looked directly at the smug Alpha, Adam, and his dangerous lackey, the personal assistant.
"I'm not signing that," he stated flatly.
The personal assistant's brow furrowed. "Mr. Walker, you must sign that. I understand you are probably feeling aggrieved, so if it's money you want, we can offer you compensation—as much as you like. The reason we require this contract is because our President's position is sensitive. I'm sure you realize that. We cannot afford to let even the tiniest rumor slip out. Please, do the right thing and sign."
Noah's eyebrows shot up in anger. "This is ridiculous! This is absolutely ridiculous! Why on earth should I care if your President's 'situation is sensitive' or not? I have never met your President in my life! I don't even know if you call him 'President' because he runs some kind of bandit organization, because both you and your President sound absolutely insane to me!
Only criminals try to twist the truth like this! I am the victim here, but you two are making me feel like I was the one who deliberately came knocking on your President's door! This is absurd! Why would I even want to tell people that some savage took my first time, tormented me until I felt like I was dying, and you dare try to buy my privacy with money? Are you both out of your minds?"