A Boy Against the Dark

The silence of the night shattered beneath the scream of sirens, an ambulance tearing through the sleeping city like a steel predator. Red and blue lights pulsed across buildings and sidewalks, chasing shadows down empty streets. Inside the vehicle, a middle-aged man lay sprawled on a stretcher, his face pale as parchment, chest heaving with ragged, uneven breaths. The heart attack had come like a thief in the dark—without warning, without mercy.

Beside him, his Omega wife clung to his hand with trembling fingers, her knuckles white with fear. Her eyes, glassy with unshed tears, never left his face. Lips moving in frantic prayer, she whispered broken pleas to whatever gods still listened, willing him to stay. Stay with her. Stay alive.

But the hospital still felt too far. Too far when every second could mean the difference between life and death.

In another part of the city, tucked away from the chaos and flashing lights, a sixteen-year-old boy sat alone in a darkened bedroom. The screen of his phone lit his face—pale, tired, trembling. It flickered in his hands like a dying flame.

Khem had already tried three numbers. His mother’s. The family assistant’s. Even the emergency line for the villa staff. No one had answered.

Now, one number remained.

The one he had always saved for last.

Hima.

His sister. His only real family. The only person who had ever made him feel seen.

He closed his eyes. Swallowed hard. Then pressed the call button.

The line rang. Once. Twice. Then—

“Hello?”

But it wasn’t her voice.

It was a man’s voice. Deep. Familiar. Laced with smugness and cruel control.

Khem’s stomach twisted.

“Where is my sister?” he asked, voice taut, struggling to remain steady. “Where is Hima?”

A sigh oozed through the speaker, theatrical and lazy.

“Oh… Khem. What is it this time?”

His grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles ached.

“Dad,” he said, each word clipped with urgency. “He’s in the hospital. A heart attack. I need to speak to her. Now.”

There was a pause. A silence that felt like it stretched on forever. Then the man replied, voice soaked in indifference.

“She’s resting. You know how it is—it’s her heat period.”

Khem froze.

Lies. It was always lies with him.

“She’s in her room,” the man added, far too casually. “She needs her rest.”

Sleep. While their father could be taking his last breath.

Khem’s voice cracked. “Please. Just give her the phone.”

A soft, patronizing laugh echoed through the speaker.

“You’re always so dramatic, Khem. He’ll be fine. You should get some rest too.”

Click.

The call ended.

Khem stared at the phone in disbelief. His hand slowly dropped to his lap, his heartbeat pulsing loud in his ears. His sister was unreachable. His father was dying.

And he was helpless.

Hima had once been everything. The miracle child. A dominant Omega, born to a Beta father and an Omega mother—a rare genetic blessing in a world where status, strength, and control were determined by biology.

She had been powerful. Precious. And ultimately, a pawn.

At nineteen, she had been married off like a prize to a man. Not for love. Not for happiness. For leverage. A business transaction dressed in silk and ceremony. Her voice hadn’t mattered. Her future had been traded for influence.

And Khem?

Just a Beta. Just… average. No real use. No real say. Too weak to protect her. Too young to matter.

But he had hope.

There were two times in an ABO child’s life when nature made its decision. The first came at twelve—the early classification. Beta. That had been his fate so far.

But the final differentiation didn’t arrive until eighteen.

And sometimes—just sometimes—that second shift brought change. Rare, but not impossible. Some Betas bloomed late. Some found a new destiny inside them.

Two years. That’s all he had left.

Two years to hope that he would rise as an Alpha.

Because if he did, everything would change.

He would have the strength. The dominance. The power to protect the sister who had once protected him. He would not let her rot away in a gilded prison, bound by heat cycles and duty to a man who didn’t love her. He would not let their parents use her again.

But tonight… hope wasn’t enough.

His phone buzzed. He snapped upright, fumbled with the device, and redialed—this time, the landline to the villa.

Ringing. Once. Twice.

Then a voice answered. A woman. Drowsy. Irritated.

“Hello?”

Not Hima.

Khem swallowed the knot rising in his throat.

“It’s Khem. Please—I need to speak to my sister. Our father… he’s in the hospital. It’s serious. Please, wake her.”

The woman groaned softly. “She’s in her room. You know how she gets during her heat cycle.”

He closed his eyes. His hands shook. “Please. Just tell her. Tell her Dad needs her. Tell her I need her.”

Silence.

Then, a softer voice.

“I’ll tell her, Khem. But… I can’t promise she’ll come. You know how she is now.”

Click.

The line went dead.

He let the phone fall into his lap. His breath came in shallow waves. A hollow ache throbbed in his chest. The world around him had never felt so big—and he, so small.

His father might die tonight.

His sister was beyond his reach.

And he—Khem—was still nothing. Still Beta. Still just a boy with trembling hands and empty fists.

But not forever.

He stared into the darkness, and somewhere beneath the fear, the helplessness, and the despair… burned a flicker of resolve.

Two more years.

Two more years until the final shift. Until his body chose what he would become.

And maybe—just maybe—he would become something strong enough to change everything.

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