For three whole days… life had been strangely, suspiciously peaceful.
No viral videos blowing up her phone at 3 AM.
No screaming voicemails from her father that started with her full name and ended with something about "ruining the Debonair family name."
No snarky texts from bruised Alphas licking their wounds and sending half-hearted legal threats.
Even Mr. Station Alpha had gone ghost.
Radio silent. No stalking. No dramatic public confrontations.
It was… unsettling.
Krishna almost, almost, started to feel bored again.
And that was dangerous.
So when Friday night rolled around, she did what any self-respecting chaos magnet with too much free time and not enough impulse control would do—
She went to her favorite bar.
Dim lights.
Low bass that rattled through her boots.
Sticky floors layered with spilled regret.
And whiskey that burned like memories she never asked for.
She claimed her usual corner booth, tossing her jacket lazily across the seat like she owned the place. One boot propped up, one hand wrapped around a half-empty glass, the other scrolling through dumb memes on her phone with mild, disinterested amusement.
The air smelled like sweat, bad decisions, and too much cheap cologne.
It was nice. Comfortable. Predictably rowdy in all the right ways.
Right up until movement caught her eye near the back hallway.
The entrance to the VIP rooms.
Two burly security guys stood there like bored statues, staring straight ahead like whatever was happening behind that door wasn't their business.
And there, staggering and resisting - was a female Omega.
Young. Barely out of her teens, if Krishna had to guess.
Pretty. Dressed like she thought she was out for a normal night with friends.
But her mascara was already smudged, her lipstick smeared at the corner like she'd been crying… or worse.
Her heels scraped loudly across the floor as she struggled against the Alpha dragging her like a misbehaving pet.
The Omega's voice, soft, gasping, trembling—was barely audible over the music. But Krishna heard it anyway.
"No… please… I don't want to—"
The Alpha hauling her?
A walking billboard for rich brat delinquency.
Over-gelled hair.
Designer jacket.
Gold rings flashing under the neon lights.
Expensive cologne so thick it practically drowned the air.
And worst of all? That smirk.
That arrogant, sloppy, drunk-on-power smirk that screamed:
"I get what I want, and no one's gonna stop me."
People noticed… but no one moved.
Phones out, sure.
Some recording from a distance.
Some pretending not to see.
But not one person stood up.
Because that was the rule here:
Not your business. Stay out of Alpha-Omega drama.
Especially when money and family names were involved.
Krishna watched long enough to feel her pulse rise—tight and hot in her throat.
Her drink hit the table with a sharp clink.
A few heads turned as she stood, shoulders loose, grin lazy, but her eyes…
Her eyes were already full of something reckless.
She stretched her neck with a slow pop, like she was just shaking off a nap.
Then walked, casual but direct, down the hallway, like she had an invite waiting.
The bouncer by the VIP door barely glanced at her.
Lifted a lazy brow in silent warning.
Krishna smiled sweetly back.
Just another tipsy girl looking for her friends.
Sure.
The second she pushed open the door, everything inside her brain snapped into ugly, furious clarity.
The Omega had been shoved face-down on one of the leather couches.
Her dress was halfway unzipped, back bare and shaking with panicked breaths.
One strap had fallen off her shoulder.
Her shoes, one missing, one twisted awkwardly beneath her.
The Alpha?
Straddling her.
Pinning her wrists down with one hand, yanking at the fabric of her dress with the other like he was unwrapping something he bought on discount.
The girl's legs kicked weakly, barely fighting him off.
Her mascara streaks mixed with the start of tears.
Worse yet…
Krishna could smell him from the doorway.
His pheromones thick, invasive, practically pouring off him like sewage - overpowering, bitter, and burning.
Every scent receptor in Krishna's body should have been gagging.
But… Beta perks.
She felt nothing but disgust.
The Alpha leaned down closer to the Omega, laughing something low and filthy into her ear that made the poor girl flinch like she'd been slapped.
Krishna's blood ran ice-cold… then boiled over in the space of one breath.
"Excuse me."
Her voice sliced clean through the music, through the stink of sweat and bad intentions - sharp enough to snap necks.
The Alpha froze mid-movement, turning toward her with a slow, irritated snarl.
"Who the hell—"
He didn't finish.
Because Krishna was already moving.
Three steps.
And her boot, steel - toed, stomp - tested, and fueled by three days of bottled-up boredom and rage -
Drove straight into his ribs.
The crack that followed?
Glorious.
The Alpha folded on impact, rolling off the couch like a dropped sack of trash, gasping for air.
The Omega scrambled away, curling against the far wall, hands shaking uncontrollably as she pulled her torn dress back over her shoulders.
Krishna stood tall over the Alpha, cracking her knuckles, her grin all teeth and venom.
"You seriously picked the wrong Beta to test tonight," she said, voice low and dangerously sweet.
And somewhere behind her…
The bouncers were already yelling her name like a walking violation code.
Did she care?
Not even a little.
This…
This was exactly her kind of mess.