Jay lived alone in a small, weathered house perched on a hill just outside the town. From his window, he could see the sprawling streets below, filled with the hustle and bustle of everyday life. But up here, it was quiet—too quiet. The solitude was thick, wrapping around him like a heavy blanket that never lifted, no matter how hard he tried to shake it off.

Every morning, he made the long walk down the hill to the town. The path was steep and winding, with loose gravel that made every step a cautious one. The journey down was always the same—gray skies, the distant hum of the town growing louder with each step, and the gnawing emptiness that followed him like a shadow.

Jay was an Alpha, but you wouldn't know it from the way people treated him. He worked as a chef in a small, run-down restaurant at the edge of town, a place where the customers were as bitter as the coffee they served. Despite his status as an Alpha, the restaurant staff looked down on him, treating him with a disdain that cut deep. To them, he was just another employee, easily replaceable and unworthy of respect.

Jay is a strikingly handsome man in his mid-twenties, standing around 6 feet tall with a well-built, athletic physique that speaks to his dedication to maintaining peak physical condition. His shoulders are broad, his muscles well-defined, giving him an imposing presence. Jay's skin is smooth and slightly tanned, a testament to his active lifestyle.

His face is sharp and chiseled, with high cheekbones and a strong jawline that adds to his aura of authority and control. His eyes are a piercing shade of deep brown, almost black, with an intensity that can be both captivating and intimidating. They often seem to be calculating and assessing, reflecting his sharp mind and the constant thoughts that race behind them.

Jay's hair is dark, almost jet black, and is usually styled neatly, with a slight wave that gives him a polished, but not effortlessly stylish look. He keeps it relatively short, but long enough to run his fingers through when he's deep in thought or frustrated.

His features are often set in a serious, almost stern expression, but there's a softness to his lips, which are full and often slightly parted, giving him a subtle, alluring appeal. His overall demeanor is one of quiet confidence and control, but with an underlying tension that hints at the inner turmoil he tries so hard to keep hidden.

"Hey, Alpha! The orders aren't going to cook themselves," the head chef barked as Jay entered the kitchen, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Jay bit back his frustration, forcing himself to nod and get to work. It didn't matter that he was an Alpha—here, that meant nothing. The other chefs ignored him, barely acknowledging his presence unless it was to criticize his work. The waitstaff treated him like a servant, snapping orders at him without a second thought.

The kitchen was hot and cramped, the air thick with the smell of grease and burnt food. Jay moved through the motions, chopping vegetables, stirring pots, and plating dishes with mechanical precision. He was good at what he did—one of the best in the town, in fact—but no one ever noticed. Or if they did, they never said a word.

As the day dragged on, the noise and chaos of the restaurant only seemed to amplify the loneliness inside him. He was surrounded by people, yet he felt more isolated than ever. There was no camaraderie, no sense of belonging—just the endless cycle of orders, complaints, and the overwhelming pressure to meet impossible expectations.

When his shift finally ended, Jay was left with nothing but the long walk back up the hill. The sky was darkening, and the town was beginning to quiet down for the night. But as he trudged up the steep path, Jay felt a hollowness in his chest that no amount of hard work could fill. He was an Alpha, but he was also alone, and every day felt like a reminder of just how far he had fallen.

As he reached his house and opened the creaky door, Jay was greeted by the silence that had become his constant companion. He dropped his bag by the door, sighed deeply, and looked out at the town below, wondering if anything would ever change. But deep down, he knew the answer.

In a world where Alphas were supposed to be powerful and revered, Jay had somehow ended up here—on this lonely hill, in this empty house, with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't escape the feeling that this was all he would ever be.

The dinner rush had just begun, and the restaurant was already buzzing with activity. Jay was in the middle of preparing a batch of orders, his hands moving quickly as he chopped vegetables and sautéed meat. The clatter of pots and pans filled the air, accompanied by the sharp voices of the waitstaff barking orders back and forth.

"Jay, table five's been waiting for their order for ages! What's taking so long?" one of the waitresses, Mina, snapped as she leaned over the counter, glaring at him.

Jay looked up, trying to hide his exhaustion. "I'm on it. It'll be out in just a minute."

Mina rolled her eyes. "You said that ten minutes ago. If you can't keep up, maybe you shouldn't be here."

Jay clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay calm. "I'm doing the best I can. There's a lot of orders coming in at once."

The head chef, a burly man named Mr. Kim, overheard the exchange and stomped over, his face red with anger. "What's the problem here?"

Mina didn't miss a beat. "Jay's falling behind again. Table five's been waiting forever, and the customers are starting to complain."

Mr. Kim turned his glare on Jay. "What's your excuse this time?"

Jay felt the weight of their eyes on him, the pressure mounting as he struggled to find the right words. "I'm not making excuses. I'm just saying that I'm handling a lot of orders at once. It's busy tonight."

Mr. Kim sneered. "Busy? You think this is busy? This is nothing compared to what real chefs deal with. If you can't handle it, then maybe you should find another line of work."

Jay swallowed hard, the sting of Mr. Kim's words hitting him harder than he'd like to admit. "I'm doing my job. The order will be ready in a minute."

Mr. Kim scoffed. "A minute? They've already waited too long. If this keeps up, you'll be out of here faster than you can say 'Alpha.'"

Mina smirked, clearly enjoying the spectacle. "Honestly, you're supposed to be an Alpha, right? Shouldn't you be better than this?"

Jay's face flushed with shame, but he kept his head down, focusing on finishing the order. The words cut deep, but he couldn't afford to let them see how much it hurt. He plated the dish with careful precision and handed it to Mina.

"There. It's ready," he said quietly, avoiding her gaze.

Mina snatched the plate from his hands with a huff. "Finally."

As she walked away, Mr. Kim shook his head in disgust. "Pathetic. An Alpha who can't even keep up in a kitchen. What a waste."

Jay didn't respond. He couldn't. The words echoed in his mind as he turned back to his station, the noise of the kitchen fading into the background. He was used to this—being treated like he was less than, like he didn't matter. But no matter how many times it happened, it never hurt any less.

He continued working, each movement mechanical, each breath a little heavier than the last. The incident had passed, but the sting of their words lingered, a reminder of how far he had fallen from the respect and power that were supposed to come with being an Alpha.

The restaurant had finally quieted down. The last customers had left, and the kitchen was dark except for the dim light above Jay's station. He was exhausted, every muscle in his body aching from the long hours of work. He sighed deeply as he removed his apron, wiping the sweat from his forehead. It was late—later than usual—and the thought of the long walk up the hill to his empty house weighed heavily on his mind.

As Jay gathered his things, he suddenly caught a scent that made him freeze in place. It was sweet, intoxicating, and all too familiar—strawberry. His favorite. The scent wrapped around him, pulling him in, making his heart race and his senses sharpen. He hadn't smelled anything like it in so long—not since the last time he'd been with an Omega, over a year ago.

His body reacted instinctively, drawn to the source of the scent. Jay's mind was clouded, thoughts tangled as the primal urges he'd suppressed for so long began to surface. He followed the scent out of the kitchen, through the backdoor, and into the dark alley behind the restaurant. His footsteps were quiet, deliberate, as if any sudden movement might break the spell.

And then he saw him—a young Omega, huddled against the wall, trembling as he whimpered softly. The Omega's scent was overwhelming, filling the narrow alley with the undeniable sign of heat. The boy's eyes widened in fear as he noticed Jay, his body stiffening as he tried to push himself away.

"Please... don't," the Omega pleaded, his voice shaky, desperate. "Don't touch me... I-I didn't mean to... I just... please, let me go."

Jay's breath hitched as he took in the sight before him. The Omega was beautiful, vulnerable, and the scent... it was driving Jay insane. His mind screamed at him to stop, to turn around and walk away, but his body was moving on its own, the primal need to claim, to take, overpowering everything else.

He stepped closer, his eyes locked on the Omega, who was now crawling backward, trying to escape. But there was nowhere to go—the alley was narrow, and the walls closed in on either side.

"Please," the Omega whimpered again, tears welling in his eyes as he pressed himself against the cold brick wall. "Don't... I can't..."

Jay's heart pounded in his chest, his instincts urging him to take what was being offered, to end the loneliness that had haunted him for so long. He could almost feel the Omega's warmth, the softness of his skin. The last time he'd been this close to an Omega was so long ago, and the hunger inside him was almost unbearable.

But just as he reached out, the night was suddenly pierced by a sharp, terrified scream—a child's scream. The sound cut through the haze in Jay's mind, jolting him back to reality. He froze, his hand hovering just inches from the Omega, who was now sobbing in fear.

Jay blinked, the fog of desire lifting as the scream echoed in his ears. He jerked his hand back, staring at the trembling Omega before him. What was he doing? The realization of what he'd almost done hit him like a cold splash of water.

"Are you okay?" Jay's voice was shaky, a mix of concern and guilt.

The Omega looked up at him, tears streaming down his face, but there was no anger—only relief that Jay had stopped. Jay stepped back, giving the Omega space as he tried to gather his thoughts. The child's scream had come from somewhere nearby, but the alley was empty except for the two of them.

"I-I'm sorry," Jay stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't... I wasn't..."

But before he could finish, the Omega pushed himself to his feet, shaky but determined, and ran past Jay, disappearing into the night. Jay didn't stop him. He just stood there, heart racing, as the scent of strawberries slowly faded into the cool night air.

The scream echoed through the narrow alley once more, sharp and terrified, sending a chill down Jay's spine. He stood frozen for a moment, his mind still reeling from what had just happened with the Omega. But as the scream rang out again, something deep inside him snapped into focus.

His gut twisted with a sense of urgency, a feeling that whatever was happening wasn't just a random cry for help. It was something more—something dangerous. The primal instincts that had just moments ago urged him to take, now pushed him to protect.

Jay shook off the lingering haze of desire and fear, forcing himself to think clearly. He couldn't just stand here. That scream meant someone was in trouble, and he knew he had to do something. The Omega had already disappeared into the night, and now there was a child who needed him.

Without another second of hesitation, Jay turned and sprinted out of the alley, following the direction of the screams. The town was eerily quiet at this hour, the only sound being his footsteps pounding against the pavement and the distant, fading cries.

As he ran, his mind raced with possibilities. Was the child lost? Hurt? Or was there something—or someone—more sinister involved? The thought made his heart pound even harder. His gut told him that he was running out of time, that every second counted.

He rounded a corner and skidded to a stop as he spotted the source of the screams. In the dim light of a flickering streetlamp, a small boy was cowering against a building, his face streaked with tears. His clothes were torn, and he was clutching his arm, which hung limply at his side.

Jay's eyes widened as he took in the scene. The boy was clearly in pain, his cries filled with a fear that sent a shiver down Jay's spine. But there was something else—another figure looming in the shadows just beyond the boy, moving closer with slow, deliberate steps.

Jay's instincts kicked in, and without thinking, he rushed forward, placing himself between the child and the approaching figure. His heart raced as he stood his ground, eyes narrowed at the shadowy figure, who now stopped in their tracks.

"Get away from him!" Jay shouted, his voice firm despite the adrenaline surging through him.

The figure paused, then slowly stepped back into the darkness, disappearing as silently as they had appeared. Jay remained on high alert, his senses sharp, but the figure didn't return. After a moment, he turned to the boy, who was still trembling, his eyes wide with fear.

"Are you okay?" Jay asked, kneeling down to the boy's level, his voice softening.

The boy nodded weakly, though he was still clutching his arm, clearly in pain. Jay's heart ached at the sight, and he gently reached out, careful not to startle the child.

"Let's get you somewhere safe," Jay said, his tone calm and reassuring. "We'll take care of that arm, okay?"

The boy looked up at Jay with wide, tear-filled eyes, and for a moment, the overwhelming loneliness that had haunted Jay for so long seemed to fade. Here was someone who needed him, someone he could protect.

As Jay helped the boy to his feet, he couldn't shake the feeling that this night was just the beginning of something much bigger. But for now, he focused on getting the child to safety, pushing aside his own fears and doubts. Tonight, he was more than just a lonely Alpha—tonight, he was a protector.