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Chapter one

VIOLET

A few months ago Sofie and I were faking our allegiance to Pastor Ezra so that we could spend time with our bestie Camila. Just three Betas, waiting for our forevers to show up on our doorstep and whisk us away from the monotony of our lives. And now, Camila is mated to the best men in the entire world, Sofie is a late-presenting Omega, and I’m in love with a woman I’m not enough for.

Her parents were over the moon when she presented, building up entire portfolios of packs rich enough to buy the entire damn city. She took one look at those scent cards and threw them the middle finger, saying that she wouldn’t be leaving my side. Of course, that wasn’t the response her parents were hoping for and now we’re on our own. Because my parents in tandem so that we were disrespecting god or some shit–whatever Pastor Ezra had stuffed down their throats at the time.

I might have been selfish enough to believe we could do it. Sofie is everything to me but the one thing she needs, I don’t have and we’re both stubborn enough not to go searching for it.

Which is why I’m currently stuck at Ash & Ivory at the edge of our little city, trying and failing to switch out some of the art for the showing tomorrow evening.

The weight of the damn frame digs into my palms, the awkward angle burning my arms as I stretch up, trying to hook the edge onto the display wall. The nails aren’t lined up right, of course. Nothing ever is in this overpriced, pretentious gallery that reeks of desperation. I should’ve measured. Should’ve cared more. But all I can think about is her.

Sofie hums softly behind the front desk. She’s stacking glossy, framed purchases into neat piles, her delicate fingers brushing against the surfaces like they’re precious artifacts instead of gaudy expressions of “wealth” and “taste.” Her dark brown hair glimmers under the overhead lights, her movements graceful despite the exhaustion clinging to both of us.

It’s been nearly three months since she first presented. And only weeks since everything changed. Sofie used to be this bold, take life by the balls kind of woman before her biology fucked us over. She seems even smaller than she used to be, timid, and a little terrified of the world she used to rule so defiantly. And me? Still just a Beta, trying to figure out how to keep her safe, how to give her everything she needs when I know I’m not enough.

The frame shifts, my muscles screaming for a break. “Piece of shit,” I mutter, letting the edge scrape against the wall. It’s too heavy, too awkward. Kind of like my life these days.

Sofie giggles, a soft sound as her melon scent sweetens and I glance her way. Her hazel eyes meet mine, my beautiful Omega glowing despite everything—the fear, the unknowns, the way her body has betrayed her with this late presentation—she’s still glowing.

I can’t lose her. I won’t.

Her smile widens as she catches me staring and she waves like we’re kids again, like this world isn’t grinding us down one brutal day at a time. I force a grin back, hoping it hides the cracks. “Don’t get too comfortable over there, baby,” I call, my voice lighter than I feel. “I might make you climb up here and hold this thing for me.”

Sofie laughs again, but there’s a softness in her gaze, a knowing. She sees me. Really sees me. And it terrifies me, how much I crave that, how much I need it.

I shove the frame into place, the corner finally catching on the nail. My arms drop, relief rushing through my body. But it’s fleeting. The weight isn’t just in my hands—it’s everywhere. Pressing on my chest, squeezing my lungs. The weight of being her protector, her provider. Her everything.

“Vi,” she says softly, pulling me back to her. She’s standing now, her hands clasped in front of her, her head tilted just enough to make my heart ache. “You okay?”

I nod, wiping my hands on my jeans. “Always.”

It’s a lie, but I’ll keep telling it as long as she believes it.

There’s three more frames that have to be hung and while I could enlist the help of the boss’ son, I know he won’t lift a finger. Marion probably isn’t even here, despite the hefty salary his father throws at him. Not that it matters. Marion and his father barely step into the front part of the gallery unless there’s a patron with deep pockets or it’s a showing. The peace and quiet lets me work uninterrupted but it’s moments like this when I wish I had a little help.

I swap out another over-priced painting on the display wall, my hands covered in dust and grit. I can’t fucking wait to get a shower as a bead of sweat drips down my back beneath the suit jacket the boss requires I wear. Sofie gets away with those gorgeous sundresses and that thick sweater I bought her a few weeks ago while I’m slaving away in this atrocity. I’m surprised I’m not required to wear a bowtie.

I snort and dust off my hands, gathering the hammer and the leftover nails as the front door opens. A patron dripping in more money than I could dream of makes a beeline for the counter, no doubt to put a claim down on one of the many overpriced art pieces in the gallery. Sofie looks up with a bright smile, greeting everyone as she always does seconds before her scent hardens.

“Excuse me! Is anyone even paying attention here? This is completely unacceptable!”

My gaze narrows at the middle-aged woman as her heels clack against the floor, her tone razor-sharp and dripping with entitlement. Sofie’s smile falters, her shoulders hunch slightly, and then she leans back. Most people wouldn’t notice but I do. I see the way she’s subtly retreating.

No. Not happening.

I focus back on the wall, trying to breathe through it, trying to keep my own temper in check. But that woman’s voice grates on me like nails on a chalkboard. “I ordered this piece for my living room and it arrived with a scratch on the frame! How am I supposed to display this in my home? It’s a disaster!”

Sofie stammers something—too soft for me to hear—and the woman cuts her off with a scoff. “Do you even inspect these things before you ship them out? Honestly, the lack of professionalism here is astounding.”

The growl slips out before I can stop it, low and feral, echoing in my chest. My feet are moving before I realize what I’m doing as I march toward the desk. “Ma’am,” I snap, my voice cutting through her tirade as I slip behind the counter. “Step back.” I swallow the sigh of relief when recognizing her as a Beta, even if she has 20 years on me. Approaching an Alpha like that could have dire consequences.

She turns to glare at me, lips curling in indignation. “Excuse me?”

I place myself between her and Sofie, my body tense, my fists clenched at my sides. “You’ve got an issue? Great. Let’s hear it. But don’t you dare stand here and berate Sofie when she’s the reason your precious art even made it to your house in the first place.”

Her eyes narrow, but there’s a flicker of hesitation. Good. Let her think twice before mouthing off again. “I—uh—there’s a scratch on the frame,” she stammers, holding up her phone to show a blurry photo. “It’s unacceptable.”

I lean in, taking the phone and squinting at the picture. It’s a hairline scuff at best, something a little polish would fix in five seconds flat. “That’s it? You came all the way here for this?”

The woman’s lips part, but before she can say another word, the door bursts open again, and a kid—maybe sixteen—rushes in, panting and red-faced. “Mom, stop!” he shouts, skidding to a halt next to her. “You do this all the time! There’s nothing wrong with it, okay? It’s fine. Let’s just go.”

The woman’s face flushes crimson, and she splutters, but the kid grabs her arm and starts tugging her toward the door. “Sorry,” he mutters to me and Sofie, his eyes full of embarrassment. “She’s... yeah. Sorry.”

I watch them leave, my hands still clenched, my chest heaving with restrained frustration. When the door finally swings shut behind them, I turn back to Sofie. She’s in the chair a few inches behind me, her entire body trembling, my poor Omega curled in on herself as she tries to fight her emotions.

“Baby, fuck. You didn’t do anything wrong.” I crouch down in front of her seat, taking her hands in mine and rub my thumbs over the back until she meets my gaze. Her hazel eyes are wide and glossy, my heart breaking just a little more today. “She came in here screaming but she was in the wrong.”

Sofie gives me a small nod. “I know. It’s just… everything is always so loud and different. I just wanted to give her whatever she wanted so that she would go away.” Her body relaxes the longer I hold her hands until that sweet melon scent is back. “I’m sorry.”

I can’t remember how many times she’s said that in the last few weeks as if all of this is her fault. “Just breathe with me, baby.” She takes a short breath, chokes on it, and then sputters. There’s a strained giggle in there somewhere as Sofie tries to compose herself which brings a smile to my face. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. Nice and slow.”

She nods but doesn’t quite follow, her breaths hitching. Her scent’s already changing—sweet, heady, and too damn close to tipping into something I’m not ready to handle in the middle of this godforsaken gallery.

I dig into my pocket and pull out the little bottle of lotion I carry everywhere now, just in case. The label’s worn off, but I don’t need to read it to know what it does. A quick twist of the cap and I smear a dollop under her nose, swiping it gently across her upper lip.

“Better?” I ask, watching her expression change from mild panic to relief. “This’ll help. Just focus on breathing, okay?”

Her lips part slightly as she inhales a shaky breath. The tension in her shoulders starts to ease, the wild panic in her eyes dulling just enough for her to focus on me.

“Better?” I ask, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

She nods, leaning forward to rest her forehead against my shoulder. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “My head’s all over the place, and my body—it’s getting hot again. I think—”

She doesn’t finish, but she doesn’t have to. I know what’s happening. She’s close. Having presented so late, we had no idea when her first heat would hit. Stress like this only pushes her closer to the edge and I’m kicking myself for not stopping that woman sooner.

“It’s okay,” I murmur, wrapping my arms around her, holding her close. She feels so small like this, fragile in a way that breaks my heart. “I’ve got you. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

I press a soft kiss to her temple, my lips lingering for just a second. Her scent’s still thick in the air, even with the lotion, and it stirs something primal in me, something I shove down hard.

The sound of heavy boots on tile pulls me back and I glance up to see our boss emerging from the back office. His scowl is as permanent as the cheap cologne he bathes in, his beady eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene at the desk.

“Cut the PDA,” he sneers, crossing his arms. “This isn’t a daycare. Violet, I need you back in the stockroom. Now.”

My jaw tightens, but I nod, squeezing Sofie’s hand one last time before standing. “I’ll be back in a minute,” I whisper to her. She nods again, her gaze dropping to her lap, and it takes everything in me not to snap at him for being such a prick. As I follow him, I glance over my shoulder, catching Sofie’s eyes one more time. “It’s okay,” I mouth to her. And I mean it. Because I’ll make damn sure it is.