POV: Dante
The city smells different at night.
From the top floor of Noir Tower, Nova Lyra seems peaceful: lights, rain, late-night cars. If I open the window, the real version comes in with a single breath.
And, underneath it all, the ancient smell of our people.
I don't open the window.
The elevator stops. The door opens to a large, windowless room lit with warm light. Long table, soundproof walls, smell of wood and wolf.
Sebastian is already there.
He stands up when I enter, an automatic gesture. He doesn't relax until I close the door.
"Alpha," he greets me.
I sit down.
"Sit down," I say.
He does. He leaves a thick folder and a tablet on the table.
"I brought what you asked for about Seraphim and the scholarship program," he says. "And something else."
I take a seat across from him.
"Start with the basics," I ask. "I want to hear it from you, not from a report."
He licks his lips, a habit he has when he doesn't like the data.
"Seraphim was created as a joint project," he begins. "Humanitarian on the surface, with strategic use for the clans underneath. Some of the money comes from clean holdings; some of it comes from deals with families... less clean.
Nothing I didn't already know. I gesture for him to continue.
"The Aurora Program was largely funded by that line of Seraphim," he adds. "The same account we've seen before in mixed clan maneuvers. In your analyst's cohort, there was pressure to increase the number of scholarships approved.
"Pressure from whom?" I ask.
"Formally, from the foundation," he says. "Unofficially, from a representative of the Valcourt family."
Valcourt.
I'm not surprised. Vampires and unregulated wolves have played together too many times.
"Motivation?" I insist.
Sebastian shifts uneasily.
"They were looking for specific profiles," he replies. "High abilities, no family network, medical history easy to cover up with human diagnoses. People who could be 'managed' if they showed non-normative traits."
"Non-normative traits." An elegant way of saying "problematic alpha" or "useful omega."
"And Aurora?" I ask.
"She fits all the criteria," he admits. "But there's something else: her school records show episodes of extreme sensitivity to smells and temperature changes since adolescence."
My back tenses.
"Why didn't I see that in the initial report?" I ask.
"Because it's not in the version they gave you," he replies. "Your copy ends with 'functional anxiety.'"
I begin to understand.
It was no coincidence that she ended up in my tower. Not entirely.
"They wanted an omega," I say. "They didn't care if they found one in my building or another. They just needed a place where no one would ask too many questions about why an analyst gets upset when she smells certain things."
Sebastian nods.
"Your foundation agreed to fund the cohort without knowing that part of the filter was 'marked,'" he adds. "The grant was the carrot. The rest... I guess they were going to improvise based on what she showed.
My jaw hurts from clenching so hard.
"And now?" I ask. "Have they tried to approach you?"
"Not yet," he says. "But Elías already talked about 'a new air in the tower.' If he smells it, others won't be far behind."
Silence.
On the table between us, the folder seems heavier than it should be.
"Let's review the rules," I say, more to organize my thoughts than anything else. "Unregistered Omegas have three options: hide, register under an alpha of record, or end up in the hands of someone who will use them as currency. We agreed with the clans to keep our people away from visible positions in joint ventures.
"And you just put a latent omega in the middle of a sensitive project," Sebastian sums up. "The kind of thing the other clans could interpret as provocation."
I don't dispute the word.
"I didn't know what she was when I chaired the scholarship committee," I reply. "Or when I accepted her into risk analysis."
"But you know now," he says. "And they'll know soon, too."
A heavier silence falls.
My rational side begins to draw lines of defense: deny prior knowledge, blame the structure, say it was all the foundation's doing. My alpha side paints a very different picture: Aurora in the middle of a meeting room full of alphas and vampires, her scent awakening, her body reacting to fear and power.
No.
"They're not going to touch her," I say, before putting together a more diplomatic speech.
Sebastian tilts his head.
"That requires making decisions soon," he says. "Either you hide her better... or you mark her."
The word hangs in the air.
Mark.
"I'm not going to mark anyone because a group of vampires thinks they can use an omega as a pawn," I reply.
"But you can't just leave her completely untethered either," he retorts. "If she goes into heat without knowing what it is, the whole building will know. And you won't be the only alpha around."
The images that phrase conjures up are all too easy to imagine. None of them end well.
"How long do you think it will take?" I ask. "For her to wake up completely."
"There's no way to know for sure," he says.
I lean back in my chair.
I think of Aurora in the hallway, holding onto the cubicle. In her email, so controlled, talking about a "conflict of interest" when what she really has is a conflict with her whole life.
"I'm going to keep her in Seraphim," I say. "If I take her out now, the Valcourts will smell weakness. And she'll know I'm hiding something."
"Then you need a plan," Sebastian replies. "For the project and for her."
I nod.
"For the project: you want us to clean up what we can, burn what we can't," he continues. For her... what exactly do you want, Alpha?
It's too simple a question for an answer I can't admit out loud.
"I want her to remain free and, at the same time, I don't want anyone else to touch her."
Ridiculous.
"I want her to end up with someone who is loyal to this house," I reply. "And I don't want her to be broken in the process."
Sebastian nods slowly.
"I'll talk to the trusted doctors," he says. "Not the ones in the tower, ours. Have them prepare a protocol in case she goes into heat up there. Something that allows us to get her out of the building without causing a scene."
I don't like the image of Aurora leaving Noir Tower semi-conscious, surrounded by my people. I like it even less to imagine her surrounded by others.
"Do it," I say. "But don't let her know yet. If we scare her prematurely, she'll start looking for answers in the wrong places."
The meeting should end there. We have data, instructions, an imperfect plan. Instead of getting up, I stare at the table for a few more seconds.
"One more thing," I add.
Sebastian waits.
"I need you to thoroughly review everyone who has had direct access to Seraphim in the last two years," I say. "If anyone within the company was working with Valcourt to place her here, I want their name."
When I leave the room, the city is still there, on the other side of the glass. Noir Tower seems solid, immovable. Inside, everything feels much less stable.
Aurora is working on a project that could bring down companies and clans. She is living proof of an agreement that no one will admit to in public. She is an unmarked omega in a tower full of polite predators.
And, above all, she is mine in a way that I still can't tell her or myself.
Not yet.