Vailed Truths: The Chosen Omega

Whispers of Betrayal

The rain was relentless, turning the city's streets into a maze of reflections and shadows. Pon sat in the backseat of a sleek black car, staring out at the world beyond the rain-streaked window. His mind was heavy with the weight of the scandal that had shattered his life, the endless cycle of headlines and vitriol that had become his reality. Friends had turned their backs on him, fans had abandoned him, and now, he was left navigating the wreckage alone—except for Pooh. Krittin Kitjaruwannakul had remained by his side, a constant source of strength in the storm. But even Pooh's unwavering support couldn't erase the sting of betrayal that lingered in Pon's heart.

The car slowed as it approached an intersection, and Pon's thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a small crowd gathered on the sidewalk. At first, he paid them little attention, assuming they were just pedestrians waiting out the rain. But as the car continued, he noticed something unsettling: a few of them were holding signs, the kind usually seen at protests or rallies. And then he saw it—the familiar image of his own face, crossed out in red.

Pon's heart skipped a beat. These weren't just random bystanders; they were part of the growing legion of people who despised him, the ones who had taken his downfall as a personal crusade. His pulse quickened as the car came to a stop at the red light, directly beside the group.

One of the fans recognized him immediately, their eyes narrowing as they pointed in his direction. Within seconds, the rest of the group turned their attention to him, their expressions morphing from curiosity to hostility. A woman with a twisted scowl stepped forward, banging her fist against the car window.

"Traitor!" she screamed, her voice muffled by the glass but still piercing. "You ruined everything!"

Pon flinched, his breath catching in his throat. More voices joined hers, their words harsh and accusatory. The fans pressed closer to the car, their faces contorted with anger. Pon instinctively shrank back into his seat, his heart pounding in his ears. He had faced the media, endured the whispers and the glares, but this—this raw, unfiltered hatred—was something else entirely.

The driver tensed, ready to move as soon as the light changed, but the group was blocking the path, growing bolder with each passing second. Pon's mind raced, searching for a way out, when suddenly, a figure stepped out of the shadows, moving toward the group with purposeful strides.

"Back off!" the newcomer's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and authoritative. The group hesitated, turning to see who had spoken.

It was a young man, tall and lean, with an air of confidence that demanded attention. He didn't hesitate as he approached the fans, placing himself squarely between them and the car. There was something about him—something commanding—that made the group falter.

"Who the hell are you?" one of the fans sneered, trying to regain their composure.

"Someone who doesn't tolerate people picking on an Omega," the man replied coldly. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, swept over the group, daring them to challenge him. "Leave. Now."

The tension in the air was palpable as the fans exchanged uncertain glances. The newcomer wasn't backing down, and there was something in his stance, in the way he carried himself, that made them reconsider. One by one, they began to back away, their anger dissipating into uncertainty. With a few muttered curses, they finally dispersed, leaving the man standing alone in the rain.

Pon watched in stunned silence as the man turned and approached the car, his expression softening slightly as he reached the window. He tapped gently, signaling for Pon to lower it.

Hesitantly, Pon complied, his hand trembling slightly as he rolled down the window. The man leaned down, his gaze meeting Pon's with a mix of concern and something else—something protective.