This chapter contains some content depicting domestic violence, which may be triggering to some readers. Reader discretion is advised.

"Hey, hey, aren't you an Omega? But I can barely smell you!"

Kojima Yoru grabbed his customer's drink and took a huge gulp of it to stop himself from making a face. "My scent is saved for the most...notable customers," Yoru replied. "For the rest, my looks are enough."

The middle-aged Beta looked offended. "I don't count as notable?"

Chose the wrong word, Yoru groaned. "Let me get you a couple more bottles and you will be," he responded.

The Beta's friends hooted and laughed. Greatly inspired by their words, the man ordered a large bottle of vodka.

Good choice, Yoru thought. By the time they empty the bottle, they'll be too hammered to smell a thing. Heaving a tired sigh, he approached the bar and gave the bartender, Masha, his order.

Masha was a Beta woman an impressive six feet tall, with sharp green eyes and a temper no sane man would dare to stoke. She craned her head and eyed the rowdy table with her eyebrows raised. "Are they trying to kill themselves?" she asked.

"I don't care as long as they pay their bill first," Yoru responded.

Masha frowned. "Be careful," she warned. "Don't let them go too far with you. If they start harassing you, give me the signal and I'll bring out the Everclear."

"I know."

Masha looked around to make sure nobody else was at the bar and stooped behind it. "I'm sorry I can't protect you more than this," Masha said, opening the bottle and watering the vodka down so her customers wouldn't poison themselves after one glass.

"I understand, Masha. Don't beat yourself up over it."

In fact, Masha did way too much for Yoru, and he feared she was going to land in serious trouble because of it. For the plush interiors, expensive alcohol and handpicked staff of the Golden Waterfront bar hid a much darker truth, and the life of any employee who affected profits was forfeit.

The Golden Waterfront was owned by the infamous Yakuza leader Ito Manabu, head of the Ito group, and was set up as a front to conceal the real business - drug dealing, prostitution and dealing of smuggled arms and ammunition. The employees were at the mercy of the most twisted specimens of humanity with absolutely no protection from their boss - they were not allowed to refuse even their own bodies if the customers asked for it. The no-hold-barred policy and the sadism that ensued as a result meant that the establishment churned out more banknotes than half the city's ATM machines.

The Beta and his posse were some of the milder customers at the bar, and Yoru gave them the best service he could so they would come again and hopefully bring others like them. The more tables were occupied by fools like these, the easier life would be for him. "Chug! Chug! Chug!" they chanted like juveniles as one of them poured the whole bottle down his throat. Yoru cheered with them, sure that the bonus for selling the most alcohol was going to have his name on it.

"Would you like something else?" he asked graciously once the man had slumped back into his chair.

The Beta pulled Yoru into his lap and held him there in a grip surprisingly strong for a drunkard's. "I'm in the mood for something non-alcoholic," he smiled, suggestively running a had up his thigh.

Yoru shuddered visibly, but gritted his teeth and leaned forward. "I'm all yours," he crooned. "But won't it be more fun if you're sober?"

"Mmmm," said the man, mistaking Yoru's shudder of disgust for one of desire. "But I've played along with you all evening. Now I want my reward."

"Good things come to those who wai -"

The door burst open so hard it hit the wall behind it. With a deafening crash, the glass shattered and the fifteen-pound metal handle fell on its end, cracking the marble floor.

The whole bar went silent - the customers in shock, the staff in sheer dread. Four men in suits trooped in and posted themselves on either side of the entrance. The man who entered next made the whole bar breathe a collective gasp of admiration. 

Imposing pheromones emanated from the lithe, muscled body of a fighter draped in a stone grey three-piece suit. Lush black hair framed an angular face with high cheekbones, a turned-up nose and honey-colored monolid eyes. He walked in like he owned the place, inspecting his stunned audience with an appreciative eye. "I have to say," he said, his voice a sonorous rumble barely louder than a whisper. "Ito has taste, shitty though he may be otherwise."

Yoru appraised the newcomer with a touch of scorn. The man was no doubt a man of some importance, but his meager security detail and unbranded suit could not measure up to Ito's mini-army and classy clothing that reeked of money. With that powerful build, the newcomer could probably beat Ito in close combat, but the chances of this fool living to get that close were slim.

The man's eyes snapped to Yoru's, having felt the latter's gaze. The sideways glance from those long, sharp eyes did funny things to Yoru's insides. Those eyes betrayed nothing, but Yoru could sense the storm raging behind the golden-brown shutters.

"For starters, let's flush the sewage upstairs." The Alpha walked deeper into the bar with utmost leisure, as if unaware of the doom he was bringing upon himself. "You two -" he pointed at the two men who were standing to the right side of the door - "Go set fire to the bottom of the stairs, would you? There's plenty of fuel at the bar."

Yoru heard a small whimper from behind the bar. Masha. She was going to get killed if the high rollers upstairs ran away because of a fire caused by her alcohol. The Alpha ambled about some more before coming to a stop right next to Yoru's table, staring calculatingly at the racks of beverages. "Would you look at some of these bottles," he finally breathed. "There must be about half a million worth of top-notch alcohol here." He turned to his remaining two men. "Destroy it."

No! Yoru looked around wildly, looking for something - anything - that could create a distraction. His eyes landed on the empty bottle of vodka, which had rolled across the floor and come to a rest right next to his foot. At that very moment, the Alpha stepped away.

Yoru nudged the bottle with his toe, sending it rolling right under the Alpha's descending foot.

He went flying.

In an instant, his men leapt to his side to help him up. Masha's hand appeared at the door to the store room, and let its owner in. One of the men made to straighten up, and Yoru grabbed a half-full bottle from the table and smashed it over his head. The other man shot upright, took one look at his groaning comrade and pounced upon the culprit, but before he could do anything, a snarling, screeching blur of black and white fur set itself upon him.

Jolted into motion, customers began to flee, not caring who or what they left behind. Some tripped and fell, only to get stepped on by the people behind them. That didn't discourage them in the slightest - with great spirit, they crawled out the door at top speed. 

Just as the howling man was getting off his boss, Yoru plucked the attacking animal off him and set it on its butt right on the Alpha's face. A bright yellow liquid dribbled down his forehead and his cheeks.

The next second, the Alpha was rolling on the floor, pressing his hands to his eyes and retching. "What the hell was that!" He roared. "Gah! I can't see! I can't see!"

"Good...job," Yoru gasped, pulling the malodorous mammal away. "Go do your business upstairs too. Go!"

But by then it was too late. The fire had been lit, and it set off the sprinklers. The Alpha, already panicked, blinded and in pain, released a howl of rage as icy water rained down on him. Yoru straddled his broad chest, turned his face towards himself and slapped him as hard as he could.

"Do you have any idea what you've done!" he roared.

"Who the fuck are you?!"

"Shut up!" Yoru slapped the guy again. "You think this is a game? People could get killed!"

"I'll kill you fir - uuuuuuurghl!"

"Great." Yoru sat back and glared at the foul mess on the man's chest. "As if you haven't caused enough trouble already."

As hazy smoke filled the air and people from the upper floors stampeded out onto the street, Yoru began to strip the man pinned under him. It took considerable effort - he was a small Omega, and the Alpha, mostly incapacitated but twice his size, put up a fierce fight - and over five minutes, but in the end he rose, panting heavily, and surveyed the almost naked specimen groaning on the floor.

Masha joined him, a scarf tied around her nose and mouth, and delivered a savage kick to the Alpha's gut. "Why'd you leave the underwear on?" She snarled.

"Did you take care of the other men?"

Masha demonstratively held her bloody knuckles up to Yoru's face. "Good," he said. "Now what do we do with him?"

"We can't hurt him too much," said Masha. "They'll come for us."

Yoru thought for a second. Suddenly, he smiled. "Then let's make it so he can never talk about today."

Half an hour later, Masha and three waiters staggered out, supporting the Alpha's cronies. Two cars - luxurious Mercedes sedans so glossy they seemed to glow - were waiting by the curb. Yoru came out next, talking on his phone, and turned towards the corner of the street. Two tow trucks came around the corner and stopped by the cars. "There you go, boys," he said. "Show no mercy."

"You're crazy, you know that?" said the driver of the leading truck as he climbed down from the cab. "Whoo! Why do you all smell like the Devil's ass? And what the hell happened in the bar?!"

"Just leave," Yoru said quietly. "The less you know, the better. Go."

"You're pushing your luck," said the other driver, attaching one of the cars to his truck.

"I'll handle it. Thanks, guys. See you around."

The small group waited outside till the trucks were out of sight. A couple of minutes later a taxi appeared, and one waiter got in with his unconscious cargo. The same thing happened a second and a third time, with the third waiter - the bulkiest of the lot - taking two men with him. "Now," said Yoru once the last taxi was gone, turning to Masha. "Do you have those Barbie boxer shorts you bought for your ex yesterday?"

*

By the time Yoru made it home, he was tired, stinking and absolutely dejected. There was no way anyone was getting a bonus after everything at the bar got soaked. That meant that he would again be left without a time once his father took all his salary and the debt collectors would be harassing him for another month.

"You are in serious trouble," came his mother's voice from the darkness of the living room once he entered his house. "And what is that smell?"

"The bar was attacked," Yoru responded.

"Goodness! Are you hurt?"

"No."

His mother sighed wearily. "The bath's only lukewarm now," she said. "Don't make a sound while you bathe."

"He's not drunk tonight?"

"He is, but I'd rather not take any chances. I sleep right next to him, you know."

Yoru nodded and crept up the stairs and straight into the bathroom. Today's washing up was going to be a long procedure. In the cabinet under the sink was an array of products stocked just for occasions like these - liquid detergent, hydrogen peroxide, shampoo and baking soda. Once he was done, he scrubbed the tub and sink, put his clothes through four washes in the laundry and died them. By the time he was done, it was already time for his father to wake up.

Breakfast was, a deathly silent affair. Yoru was too tired to talk, his father was hungover and his mother never spoke unless spoken to anyway. So it came as a bit of a shock when the old man opened his mouth and said, "We have a marriage meeting at four, so get that stench out."

So much for staying up all night scrubbing, Yoru groaned. "I didn't know there was one," he said. "I have a shift today at that time."

"Then miss it!" Yoru's old man slammed his chopsticks on the table and glared at his son with sunken, bloodshot eyes. "I've been more than generous keeping a creature like you in this house. Get married, and get out!"

"You talk as if you are the one bringing in the money."

"Who paid for the education that's making your big mouth open?"

"You raised a lamb for slaughter! You sold me off, and you have the gall to spew such crap!"

The elder Kojima got to his feet in a flash and rounded the table. Yoru didn't even have time to shield himself in any way. All he heard was his mother's scream of horror and a scraping of metal against metal before he felt a jarring blow on the back of his head.

All he could manage was a pained whimper before his vision went black.