Adele's POV
"How about embracing your breeder omega side now that you already are one? Maybe you could catch a wealthy alpha and change your fate."
The words were spat with a cruel sneer, delivered without hesitation. I froze, blinking as if someone had struck me on the head with a heavy hammer, and then a hollow laugh escaped my lips—bitter and involuntary.
What a little piece of shit.
Calling someone an omega breeder often carried a crude, sexual and lustful undertone.
It was a common prejudice: the female breeders were assumed to be seductive, their only value tied to their ability to attract alphas with their sensual pheromones.
Still, even despite all that, the breeder females were highly sought after. As whores. As sex slaves. And, of course, as surrogates. To be born a female omega with breeder-marked pheromones was considered a blessing upon the poor werewolves as they could sell themselves to rich male wolves as sex toys.
But to me… it was nothing but a dirty curse.
Colin's remark wasn't just insulting—it was meant to demean me, to reduce me to some object of ridicule.
Where a child had learned to speak so crudely was beyond me, and yet here was my younger cousin, acting with the arrogance of someone much older and wiser.
I narrowed my eyes at him, fury rising along with my wolf.
Such insolence for someone so young… Disgusting.
It would be foolish to simply endure such an insult. I was about to speak when a furious shout cut through my thoughts.
"Bastard!"
Damien lunged forward without hesitation, grabbing our taller cousin by the collar. His small fist swung with precision and force, and then—
Thwack!
The sharp crack of skin and bone meeting flesh echoed through the room.
"Damien!" I screamed, frozen for only a moment before my instincts snapped me upright. I reached for him, but it was too late.
Our cousin, caught off guard, retaliated with fists of his own, and soon the two were locked in a chaotic tangle. The room erupted into shouts and the sounds of scuffling.
"What! Did I say anything wrong?" Colin snarled, frustrated.
"How dare you insult… my sister!"
"Living in poverty, how else are you supposed to survive and repay debts if not by finding a wealthy alpha to sleep with?!"
"Who do you think you are? Once I grow up, I'll make sure my sister never suffers again!"
"Ugh, get off me, you lunatic… How are you so strong?!"
Though our cousin was larger, Damien's strength was overwhelming. It was innate—he had the traits of an alpha, born with power and precision that belied his small frame. The realization hit our cousin too late, and the shock on his face quickly morphed into rage.
"Damn it… damn your stupid mixed blood..!" he spat.
Damien's expression twisted into a vicious sneer.
"Why? Do you feel inferior because you'll never be like me? Is that why you make crude jokes about wolves like us?"
"Ugh…!"
Pinned beneath Damien's relentless grip, Colin struggled, his face flushing crimson with embarrassment and fury. His humiliation was evident.
I knew the truth behind this behavior.
Even though my cousins were born to a gamma father, there was nothing special about them due to their mother's omega blood. Ordinary, unremarkable, born without any distinguishing traits except for their physical endurance, they often envied everyone who was more exceptional than they.
They admired the alphas' and betas' physical prowess and confidence but could never attain it themselves. That frustration, that sense of inadequacy, sometimes twisted into cruelty toward those who were vulnerable—other omegas, who had no power or status to shield them from their anger.
Although wolves could be promoted to the status of an alpha due to their achievements, there were still some low-born wolves who could manifest their alpha traits without much effort. It was rare, but not impossible––one simply had to be born this way. After all, no matter how much effort or desire one might invest, an alpha could not be created where the innate factor didn't exist.
Perhaps it was this unattainable ideal that poisoned some mixed gammas, especially those who envied alphas. And now, seeing my fifteen-year-old cousin—already mimicking such vile behavior—it was painfully clear where he had learned it: from his neglected upbringing, likely influenced by his older brother's example.
"Damien, stop it now," I called firmly, stepping forward.
"T-That's right! Can't you two stop immediately?!" my aunt shrieked, her voice faltering in the chaos. "What are you doing, acting so disrespectfully at a funeral?!"
I kept my eyes on Damien, gently touching his shoulder to calm him. My aunt's voice was loud, but she did nothing to defend her son. Her indifference only highlighted the reality of her parenting.
Our uncle stood a few steps back, rubbing his forehead and sighing, clearly uninterested in intervening. The second son, meanwhile, seemed to find the whole scene amusing, snickering quietly. Both boys were morally bankrupt, products of a careless household.
Finally, the cousins stepped apart, glaring at each other like mortal enemies. I quickly moved to Damien's side, cupping his face in both hands to inspect him. His lower lip was slightly split, a small reminder of the chaos, but otherwise, he was unharmed. Relief washed over me.
"Damien, if something like this happens again, you have to endure it," I said gently, though my voice carried authority.
"But, sister…"
"You did well standing up for me," I continued, softer now. "But no matter how angry you get, you cannot throw the first punch. Understand?"
He exhaled deeply, letting out a heavy sigh as if forcing himself to let go of his fury. Then, almost reflexively, he ruffled his chestnut hair—so much like mine—and reluctantly nodded.
It wasn't over, but for now, the storm had passed.