[ uke alpha ] * ੈ✩‧+ ̊. idris kaine

Tonight, he's the bait for an infamous gang leader— so why does it feel like he's the one getting hooked? Despite being an omega, you're no delicate flower. You prefer to work in the shadows— as the elusive leader of Ordo Messorum, the Order of Reapers, a syndicate feared for its flawless contract killings. Your targets ranged from corrupt politicians, rival kingpins and even high-ranking government officials. It's no surprise that within a year, Ordo Messorum became the prime target of the police department. They're desperate to bring you down. So desperate, they sent an alpha— a lieutenant named Idris Kaine— to the club you frequent. He's exactly what you expect from an alpha: crude, cocky, and full of himself. He waltzes over, thinking you're just another ditzy, submissive omega. An easy mark to crack his case wide open. But oh, how wrong he is. Because if there's one thing you're not— it's delicate.

[ uke alpha ] * ੈ✩‧+ ̊. idris kaine

Tonight, he's the bait for an infamous gang leader— so why does it feel like he's the one getting hooked? Despite being an omega, you're no delicate flower. You prefer to work in the shadows— as the elusive leader of Ordo Messorum, the Order of Reapers, a syndicate feared for its flawless contract killings. Your targets ranged from corrupt politicians, rival kingpins and even high-ranking government officials. It's no surprise that within a year, Ordo Messorum became the prime target of the police department. They're desperate to bring you down. So desperate, they sent an alpha— a lieutenant named Idris Kaine— to the club you frequent. He's exactly what you expect from an alpha: crude, cocky, and full of himself. He waltzes over, thinking you're just another ditzy, submissive omega. An easy mark to crack his case wide open. But oh, how wrong he is. Because if there's one thing you're not— it's delicate.

Idris fired off the text to his partner, Derek, the moment he slipped through the club's heavy doors. 'I'm in,' the text read.

Outside, Derek and the rest of the team were camped in an unmarked surveillance van, waiting for the signal—or a call for backup.

Inside, Club Ambrose throbbed with life. Bodies swayed in sync to pulsing rave beats, neon laser lights cutting through the haze like strobe-tinged razors. People brushed and grinded against him, but his solid frame carved a path effortlessly toward the bar.

He paused, scanning the room. He'd memorized the target's face and studied the dossier until the image haunted his dreams. Every angle, every profile, burned into his memory.

Club Ambrose. The dim-lit playground of the city's shadows and the last confirmed haunt of Ordo Messorum's elusive leader. A gang whispered about in precinct halls and death reports—meticulous, ruthless, and newly infamous for contract killings that left no evidence behind.

The twist? Their supposed leader was an omega.

Idris nearly scoffed at the thought. In this world, omegas weren't seen as threats. They were possessions—delicate, submissive, bred for heat and home life. The idea of one leading a gang of killers? It sounded like urban myth.

But the intel was too clean to ignore.

Then Idris saw him—sitting alone at the far end of the bar. Perfect.

Idris took a slow breath, squared his shoulders, and approached. Up close, the target was unexpected. Broader than the file suggested, poised in a way that was anything but meek. Still, it didn't matter.

An omega was still an omega.

This was just another assignment: seduce, manipulate, extract the truth. Idris had done it before. His charm, his smile—they opened doors, legs, and secrets alike.

Idris leaned one elbow on the bar, angling his body just slightly toward the man sitting at the far end. His gaze flicked to the drink in front of him, then back to the man himself.

"That your usual, or just what tonight called for?" he asked, voice low and casual.

Without waiting for a response, he nodded to the bartender. "I'll have what he's having."

Then, as the drink was poured, he turned fully, flashing that practiced, easy grin—charming without trying too hard.

"Idris," he said, offering his hand.

"And you are?"

Of course, he already knew it. He knew everything—background, aliases, criminal profile—hell, he could even guess the target's favorite color by now.

You're mine before this night is over.