"They think an Omega can be claimed and controlled, but they've never met a wolf who refuses to kneel."
Elias's POV
The night stretched around me like a living thing, dark, sharp, alive with the scent of pine and cold earth. Out here, away from the blaring neon and clashing claws of big-city politics, the silence was real. It breathed, it whispered, and it kept secrets. Perfect for a man like me.
I leaned against the hood of my black armored truck, phone cradled between my shoulder and ear, voice low and steady. "Recheck the south perimeter for any unusual movement, eyes sharp and no slip-ups."
A brief pause, then the familiar quiet confirmation: "Understood."
I ended the call and shoved the phone into my jacket pocket. The chill air bit deep, electric, and sharp against my skin, waking every nerve. The cracked pavement shimmered faintly beneath the yellow streetlamps, flickering like tired sentinels standing watch over Roan Ridge, my patch of forgotten territory, barely tethered to the crown's reach.
Most people were unaware that Roan Ridge existed, and that was perfect. Especially for Blackthorne Security, a company forged in blood, trust, and muscle, not corporate greed or polished lies. We cleaned up the messes, packs, and political lords dared not touch. My family. My armor. The thin tether holding my wolf, Black, from tearing free. But tonight… tonight something pricked at my senses sharper than usual. The air seemed to still, the forest holding its breath an extra heartbeat. Then the scent hit me deep, layered, commanding.
An Alpha scent and not just any Alpha, but something different. A presence that unsettled the night and stirred something raw in Black and me. I pushed off the truck, gravel crunching beneath my boots, and moved toward the alley beside the Greyline bar, the only place in this town that did not pretend it was safe.
There he stood, very calm and controlled, like a storm held behind glass. His eyes met mine, and my wolf howled deep and fiercely, a sound meant for only carrying clear on the wind. My instincts screamed to fight it, to run, to hold onto the fragile control I had built. But the bond was undeniable, a pull like a tide dragging me under. My traitorous wolf whinnied and howled again, and I fought for steady breath, forcing my voice to stay even.
"You're not from here."
His lips curved into the shadow of a smile. "Would it matter if I were?" His eyes, sharp as flint, held the scent of power wild, intoxicating, commanding.
"You're a fucking traitor," I muttered under my breath, speaking to Black. But he huffed and stayed bowed, stubborn as ever. I did not belong to anyone, and least of all an Alpha, especially not one who smelled like wildfire, citrus, and thunder. His voice dropped to a low murmur, warm and dangerous. "Little wolf."
That name slammed into me like a blow, carrying every secret I had buried, every scar I wore beneath my skin. My body trembled, and a small gasp slipped out, and he stepped closer, breath mingling with mine. The air thickened, charged with something fierce and impossible.
"You're an Alpha," I said, narrowing my eyes. "Alpha dominance doesn't hide well, even behind plain clothes."
Instead of stepping back, he closed the gap. Deliberate. Unhurried. Like he owned my world and had all the time in it, and his voice dropped low, smooth, edged with something ancient and dangerous.
"I'm your Alpha, little wolf."
My heart stuttered. For a long moment, I just stared at wildfire wrapped in a human shell, slow-burning and ready to consume. "You're insane," I breathed, sharp and cold, "if you think I'll fall in line because your fucking wolf decided I'm his."
He did not flinch, and a glint rose in his eyes, pleased and knowing. "I don't want you to fall in line," he murmured. "I want you to run. And I want to chase."
My breath hitched, something primal stirring deep inside, teeth bared, and claws unsheathed. But I wore a mask of cold defiance and lifted my chin. "I, Elias Blackthorne, do not belong to anyone."
Then I noticed movement behind him, a man stepping forward, tall, imposing, dressed like someone who did not belong in shadows. "This is Alpha King Alaric Vayne," he announced with formal authority. "Address him as Your Majesty."
Every instinct screamed to run, but Black the wolf beneath my skin whined like a love-sick beast aching for his Alpha. "You're not my Alpha King." I snorted bitterly, turning my back. I climbed into my armored truck, slammed the door, and roared away into the night, in the opposite direction of the bond clawing at me and Black.
Hours later, back in the Blackthorne Security office, night heavy outside and silence thick as smoke, I paced the length of the room. The scent of Alaric the King's Alpha still lingered on my skin, a reminder that the impossible was real.
His scent carried a commanding blend of raw power and ancient authority that clung to the air like a living force. It was deep and dark, heavy with the musk of untamed forests and the sharp bite of cold mountain air. Underneath, there was a subtle warmth, like smoldering embers beneath frost, a hint of wild cedarwood and crushed pine needles mixed with the faintest trace of leather and earth. This scent was not just a marker of dominance; it was a primal proclamation of sovereignty, a warning and a promise wrapped in one.
Beneath it all was something almost intoxicating, a rare sweetness, like dark honey laced with bitter herbs, which hinted at the Alpha's fierce loyalty and untamed passion. His scent moved like a shadow, silent, inevitable, and impossible to ignore.
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to still the wildfire in my mind, and Black was restless, fierce, hungry, and demanding.
"You bowed to him," I accused my wolf aloud.
"He is ours to claim," Black growled defiantly, pushing a low, threatening growl into the air.
"He's a cruel monster and would destroy us if he claimed us," I yelled back.
"He is our mate," Black insisted, rising, his power pressing against my skull like a storm.
I sank into my chair just as Juno walked in, eyes wide with concern.
"What is going on, Elias? Your power's all over the place," he demanded.
I looked up, heart pounding.
And all I could say was: "Madness and the audacity."