The corridor leading to the prison phone bank always smelled of floor wax and suppressed desperation. It was a liminal space, the only link where the inmates were allowed to reach beyond the reinforced walls, if only through a copper wire. I leaned my forehead against the cool plastic of the partition, the heavy receiver pressed hard against my ear that it left a rhythmic throb in my temple.
On the other end, there was no greeting. There never was. Just the hollow, rhythmic breathing of a ghost. I stayed silent, my eyes tracking a crack in the linoleum floor, listening to that familiar respiration. It was a monthly ritual that didn't exist in any file or state record. I didn't need to speak; the connection itself was the message. Just as the automated operator broke in to announce the end of my minutes, I felt a sharp pang in my chest—a mixture of duty and a burgeoning, terrifying exhaustion. I hung up the receiver with a clinical click and turned back toward the my wing.
The cell was unusually hushed when I entered. CJ and I-an were still out at the phone bank or the yard, leaving only the Omega, inside. He was sitting on the floor, meticulously folding his laundry. Every crease was perfect, every sleeve aligned with a robotic precision that had always set my instincts on edge.
I didn't say a word. I sat in my corner, the familiar shadows of my shelf offering a meager sense of sanctuary, and pulled out my book. The paper felt dry against my fingertips. I could feel Fei's gaze - it wasn't the fluttering, terrified look he gave the guards. It was heavy. Calculating.
"Didn't you have a call?" I asked, my voice flat, eyes never leaving the printed page.
"I don't really have anyone to call," Fei replied. His tone was light, airy even, but I could feel the lie etched into the air.
I looked up. Fei was staring at me now, his face a smooth, expressionless mask. In all the weeks we had shared this cramped square of space, I realized I had no idea what lived behind those eyes. He was a void, much like Sol, but where Sol was a sun that blinded you, Fei was a well that went down into nothing.
"I wonder why you chose him," Fei said suddenly. He didn't stop folding; he just smoothed out a grey uniform shirt with a slow, rhythmic stroke of his palm. "He isn't that special. He is a Null, after all."
The air in the cell seemed to thin. I felt my breath hitch, my chest inside me stirring at the audacity of a B-class Omega questioning my choices. I flipped a page of my book with more force than necessary, the sound of tearing paper echoing through the cell.
"If you wanted someone to dominate..."
Before I could blink, the space between us evaporated. I hadn't even heard him move -a feat that should have been impossible against my hearing. Suddenly, Fei's breath was hot against the sensitive skin of my neck. I froze, my heart hammering a frantic warning against my ribs.
"You can just call me," he whispered. I felt the wet, terrifyingly soft slide of his lips against my earlobe.
I moved with the violent efficiency of a cornered predator, shoving him back and scrambling to my feet. My hands curled into fists, my knuckles white. "What the hell are you doing?" I seethed, my voice a jagged blade.
Fei didn't look afraid. He leaned back against the concrete wall, slowly folding his knees up to his chest. A smirk, dark and knowing, spread across his face. The "trembling victim" I had saved in the yard was gone. In his place sat something sharp and dangerous.
"No one is here, Bin. You don't have to pretend," he said, his voice dropping an octave.
"I am not pretending!"
"You knew who I was from the moment I stepped into this cell," Fei said, inspecting his fingernails with a bored grace. "What did they tell you to do? Kill me?"
My jaw tightened until it ached. The silence that followed was a confession in itself.
"You had many chances to do what you were told," Fei hissed, standing up. Despite the height difference, the aura he projected was suffocating. It wasn't the pheromonal pressure of an Alpha; it was the cold, focused intent. "I thought you liked me."
"I don't like you Fei," I hissed, the name of my persona tasting like poison.
Fei's eyebrows shot up, a genuine, terrifyingly bright smile filling his face. "What did they promise? A reduced sentence?" He began to rock back and forth on his heels, his hands clasped behind his back like a curious child. "What I don't understand is why you saved me that day. You obviously knew the attack was an act. A test for you."
I remained silent, my mind racing. I had known Fei testing me. But in that split second in the yard, looking at his small frame, I had chosen to butt in.
"You send so many mixed signals, Bin. Someone might misunderstand you," Fei purred.
The heavy electronic hiss of the door interrupted us. Sol stepped in, his presence immediately shifting the atmospheric pressure of the room. He looked between us, his eyes narrowing as he sensed the static of the confrontation.
"Is everything okay here?" Sol asked. His voice was calm, but I saw the way he subtly edged toward me, his body instinctively positioning itself between me and Fei.
"No... no," Fei smiled brightly, his demeanor flipping back to the harmless Omega in a heartbeat. "I was just telling Bin something about the laundry."
Sol didn't believe him, but he let it slide after i nodded to him reasuring him of feis words. his focus shifting entirely to me. I took a deep breath, trying to settle the sudden nausea rolling in my gut.
The cell door opened and a guard called fei. He smiled at the both of us before leaving.
"You had a visitor," I said, desperate to change the subject.
"Yeah," Sol said. He sat down beside me, his movements uncharacteristically hesitant.
"Your lawyer."
"You knew?" he asked, his tone laced with a guilt that felt like a physical weight.
"Word travels fast in here, Sol," I said, staring at my lap. "When is the trial starting?"
"Next week," he whispered, grabbing my hands. His palms were warm, but I felt a cold chill settling into my spine.
"That's good," I lied. I looked up and forced a smile - the kind of smile that didn't reach my eyes but seemed to satisfy him. I leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss that tasted so good i felt like i would melt instantly. He pulled me closer, his hunger desperate, as if he could anchor himself to me and stop the clock from ticking.
The following week was a slow-motion car crash. The yard felt smaller, the concrete grayer. We sat on our familiar bench, the spring air biting at our skin.
"Maybe I should just sabotage it," Sol joked, but the desperation in his eyes was lethal. "A few well-placed outbursts, a fight with a guard... they'd have to keep me."
"If you do that, I will be angry," I said, my voice hard. "You don't belong here, Sol."
"And you?" he asked, his eyes searching mine. "Do you belong here?"
I didn't answer. I looked out at the fence, at the coils of razor wire that caught the sunlight like diamonds. I was a serial killer. I was a tool for people who didn't exist. Of course I belonged here.
Despite the looming trial, the nights remained a fever dream. We were reckless. I would wake in the middle of the night to the feeling of Sol under my sheets, his mouth worshiping me, his hands claiming every inch of my skin. He thrived on the danger of being caught, the high-octane thrill of our shared secret. But something was changing inside me.
It started as a dull ache, then evolved into a violent, rolling nausea. Two days before the trial, I found myself sprinting for the therapy room bathroom, barely making it to the stall before I wretched my meager lunch into the porcelain bowl.
I sat on the cold floor tiles, panting, my skin clammy. I felt a hand on my back - Yi-jun. He was watching me with a look of intense, professional curiosity.
"How long have you been feeling this way?" he asked.
"Two days," I wheezed, leaning my head against the stall wall. "I can't stand the smell of food. I can't even look at the rice without my stomach turning."
Yi-jun helped me back to the sofa. He sat opposite me, a strange, flickering light in his eyes. "If you weren't an S-class Alpha, Bin, I would have diagnosed you with morning sickness."
I went rigid. The air in the room felt like it had been replaced with lead. "That's not funny, Yi-jun."
"It's a joke, obviously," he said, laughing softly. "Alphas don't get pregnant. It's a biological impossibility. Even the rare B-class cases involve recessive Omega genes and medical miracles. But you... you should visit the infirmary. Maybe its a bug."
I nodded, but the seed of doubt had been planted, and it was growing with a terrifying, invasive speed. During the rut we hadn't used condoms or even in our usual sexual endeavour outside it we hadn't used it. I only ever protested against not using it because of cleanup not the jumpsace that I might get pregnant. Which was stupid to even think about. I am an Alpha , S-class alpha at that i can't get pregnant.
That night, the fever hit. Sol held me, his forehead pressed against mine. "You're burning up, Bin," he whispered, his voice thick with a concern that made my heart ache.
"It's just the rut cycle," I mumbled, burying my face in his chest. "I'm fine."
But I wasn't fine. The next morning, I requested to go to the infirmary. The doctor was out on a transport, leaving only a distracted nurse. While she went to the back to pull my records, I looked at the guard. He was engrossed in a game on his phone, leaning against the doorframe.
I stood up, my movements silent. On the counter sat a box of rapid tests meant for the Omegas. I swiped two and shoved them into the waistband of my trousers, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might crack a rib.
On the way back, I told the guard I had a "runny stomach" - a plausible excuse given we were just from the infirmary. He let me into the communal bathroom near the wing entrance.
I sat in the stall, my hands shaking so violently I almost dropped the plastic sticks. I followed the instructions - the simple, clinical steps meant for someone else, for a different life. I sat there for three minutes, staring at the door, listening to the guard's boots shuffle outside.
If anyone knew i was doing this nonsense they would surely laugh at me just for the absurdity itself.
I picked up the first test.
Two lines. Bright, defiant, impossible red.
"No," I breathed, my voice a ghost. "No, no, no."
I grabbed the second test, my vision blurring.
Two lines.
The world tilted. I felt a roar in my ears, a biological dissonance that threatened to tear my mind apart. I was an S-class Alpha. How is this possible!
I stared at my reflection in the dull, scratched metal of the stall's flush handle. My face looked the same, but the eyes staring back were unrecognizable - filled with a primitive, terrifying wonder.
Instinctively, my hand lowered. My palm came to rest against the flat, hard muscle of my stomach. Beneath the skin, beneath the prison denim, something was beginning. A pulse that shouldn't exist. A life that defied every law of nature.
"Sol," I whispered into the silence of the bathroom. "What the hell are you?"