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Chapter One

Lilianna

T he sun was too bright, the sky too blue, and the heat radiated off the concrete in a way that seemed punishing. My mother’s voice was a buzz in my ear—polite, clipped, and insistent—as she spoke to one of the sponsors. I sat beside her, silent, exactly where I was expected to be.

I wasn’t here to watch the match, I wasn’t even here for the player everyone was obsessed with.

No, I was here because my presence, as an obedient, high-ranking Omega daughter of the esteemed Wycliffe family, made for excellent optics.

My father said it softened our image. That I was a “graceful accessory” to our name.

I hated tennis.

I sat straight-backed under the white-and-gold pavilion my family had rented at the edge of the center court, perfectly still except for the occasional tilt of my chin.

My mother had told me to project grace, my father had told me to smile and neither of them had said a single word to me since we arrived.

There were rules to these events. Sit. Smile. Nod at the right people. Don't speak unless you're asked. Look pleased to be here, even if you'd rather be anywhere else.

I folded my hands in my lap, smoothing the hem of my white linen dress, and kept my expression neutral, while my older brother grunted behind me. He was bored too, but he had permission to show it. I didn’t.

The match on the court was nearing its end, the crowd beginning to buzz with the low rumble of anticipation.

All eyes were on Julian Vale—the Alpha everyone came to see.

His name had been everywhere for months.

Articles. Commercials. Talk shows. Everyone called him the “King of the Court.” Not just because of his win streak, but because of the way he carried himself—like he ruled the space around him.

And he did. It was impossible not to watch him.

Every serve came with an easy kind of power, every movement deliberate and graceful. He wasn’t just playing. He was commanding. His dark hair was soaked through with sweat, but nothing about him looked messy. Even wild, he looked composed. Lethal, in the way Alphas could be.

I tried not to look too long.

He was... striking. Intimidating.

Beautiful.

And for one brief moment—impossibly—he glanced up into the crowd. Not just into the stands. But directly at the row of private boxes.

Directly at me.

I stilled.

There was no way he could see me clearly from there. And yet—I felt that look like a touch. Sharp, assessing. Not demanding or possessive like most Alphas I’d known. Just... curious. Like he was trying to place me.

Like he saw something.

Then he turned away, caught the next serve, and the moment shattered with the thunder of the crowd. He won the match seconds later, and I barely registered it. Everyone around me was clapping, cheering, standing, but I stayed seated, stunned by something I didn’t have words for.

“Lilianna,” my mother hissed under her breath. “Smile. Stand up.”

I obeyed before I even thought about it. A perfect Omega. Polished and quiet. Unthreatening.

We were ushered down from the pavilion and led toward the lounge area where the players were expected to make an appearance.

My father had pulled strings, of course.

There were sponsors to charm and photographs to be taken.

This wasn’t just a match—it was a business opportunity. And I was part of the package.

The lounge was cool, softly lit, and reeked of wealth. No noise from the crowd made it in here—only the clinking of glasses and the low hum of conversations.That’s when I saw them.

Julian was standing just inside, a towel draped around his neck, his expression unreadable. He looked freshly showered, hair damp and curling slightly at the edges, wearing a dark polo shirt that made the breadth of his shoulders hard to ignore. He wasn’t alone.

Three other Alphas stood near him, forming a loose arc without touching.

They didn’t say much, but their presence was undeniable.

One of them—tall, older, with streaks of silver at his temples—was scanning the room like he was cataloging every person inside.

Another leaned against the wall with a lopsided smile, lazily charming.

The third was younger, built like a swimmer and deadly quiet, his gaze landing on me only once before looking away again like he already understood too much.

And Julian... Julian looked at me again. I expected a once-over. An appraisal. I braced for it, because that’s what always came next.

But it didn’t. Instead, his brow furrowed slightly—thoughtfully. Like I surprised him. He crossed the space between us before I could process it.

"Hi," he said, eyes soft as he looked down on me.

Just that. No smugness. No claim. Just a simple word, wrapped in a voice far warmer than I expected.

I blinked. “Hi.”

“I saw you in the stands,” he said, and then offered the barest smile. “You looked... like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

That startled a laugh out of me before I could stop it—soft and small, but real. “You’d be right.”

He tilted his head slightly. “You don’t like tennis?”

“I like watching it,” I admitted. “I don’t like being paraded through it.” Something shifted in his expression. His smile faded, just a little.

“That’s a heavy word,” he said, his light hazel eyes looking into me.

“I meant it,” I replied, and immediately regretted it. I wasn’t supposed to be honest. I wasn’t supposed to say anything meaningful.

But Julian didn’t look annoyed. If anything, he looked... concerned.

“This is Julian Vale,” my father’s voice boomed suddenly from behind me, cutting through the delicate thread of conversation like a blade. “And these must be his packmates. Gentlemen, a pleasure.”

My body stiffened on instinct. My mother was already sweeping forward, her social smile locked in place. “Julian, you’ve met our daughter, Lilianna. The only Omega in the Wycliffe line. Very special.”

I felt a chill crawl up my spine at the way she said it. Like I was a prize horse. A rare breed.

Julian didn’t smile. His gaze flicked from my father, to my mother, then back to me. Something unreadable settled behind his eyes.

“Nice to meet you,” he said carefully, stepping back just enough to put space between us. Not because he was dismissing me. Because he was making room for me to breathe.

The others introduced themselves politely—Nicolaus, the sharp-eyed one; Miles, the quiet one; and Christopher, the charming one with the easy grin.

But I barely heard them. My parents had taken over, talking about bloodlines and family legacies, and I was already fading from the conversation like background noise.

But Julian didn’t look away from me.

Not once

My pulse fluttered beneath my skin, but I showed nothing. I knew better.

My parents had requested to meet with the Vale Pack in a more private setting to discuss an opportunity . The idea filled me with cold dread, but once again I showed nothing. It was decided after Julian had changed they would come to our suite.

We waited in the grand living room of the suite for Julian and his packmates to arrive.

My composer, just as my mother had trained me, show nothing, being the perfect Omega of good breeding and social standing.

I heard the doorbell, announcing the pack's arrival.

My father opened the door to receive them.

“Julian,” my father greeted with a tight smile, extending a hand. “Gentlemen. It’s a privilege to have you.”

“We were already in town,” Julian replied. His voice was smooth and low. “Convenient timing.”

“Fortunate,” my mother chimed in as she moved to the bar cart with feline grace. “And what a match. You had the crowd at the edge of their seats. Such stamina—it was thrilling to watch.”

He accepted the compliment with a slight nod, but nothing more. The other three Alphas followed suit—Christopher with a neutral glance, Nicolaus with the stillness of someone always observing, and Miles with a smirk that didn’t quite touch his eyes.

I remained by the grand piano, right where my mother had nudged me to stop. A perfect ornament. Silent. Composed. Useful only in how I looked and how still I could be.

The room was gilded with old money—dark walnut woodwork, navy velvet drapes, bookshelves arranged for aesthetics, not content. Everything here was for display. Including me.

“Let’s speak plainly,” my father began as everyone settled into their seats. “You’re not here for pleasantries.”

Julian leaned back in his chair, one arm stretched lazily along the backrest. “That’s right.”

My mother handed out champagne flutes with a graceful pivot. “We understand your pack has turned down previous proposals. Impressive ones. Status. Fortune. Influence.”

“None of that matters,” Christopher said. His voice was soft, but there was an edge behind it.

“We’re not interested in being leveraged,” Julian added. “We don’t take on obligations disguised as heirs.”

“No obligations here,” my father said smoothly. “Only opportunity. A match worth consideration.”

He didn’t say my name, but his eyes flicked to me.

“She’s been raised to understand her place in the world,” my mother added lightly, returning to her seat. “Unblemished. Unentangled. A clean reputation, unspoiled by modern Omega ideologies.”

“She’s been taught obedience?” Nicolaus asked without inflection.

“She understands the value of silence,” my father said. “And the danger of vanity.”

“I’d like to hear her speak,” Miles said suddenly, eyes sliding to me like a knife under silk.

“She speaks when necessary,” my mother answered quickly. “But this isn’t her conversation. It’s ours.”

“You haven’t explained the point yet,” Julian said, cutting through the tension. “What exactly are you offering?”

“A union,” my father said plainly. “A future alliance with a family as established as ours. You’ll find no scandals, no inconvenient entanglements. Her heat was medically suppressed last year to allow for flexibility. She can be presented when you’re ready.”

“Suppressed?” Christopher asked, voice dropping. “That’s not a minor choice.”

“It was done under licensed medical care,” my mother said. “To ensure she could be introduced to her future mates in a controlled environment. No chance of bonding without consent. No... accidents.”

Nicolaus raised a brow. “Convenient.”

“Strategic,” my father corrected. “You’d have complete control over the timing and transition.”

The room went quiet for a long moment. I could feel every heartbeat in my chest.

“She’s untouched?” Julian asked finally.

“Of course,” my mother said, as if the answer was obvious. “She’s never even been scented by an Alpha without supervision. Her files—medical, emotional development, education—are all available for review.”

“Does she know why she’s here?” Nicolaus asked.

“She understands the nature of our ambitions,” my father answered. “We’ll inform her of the specifics when they’re relevant. There’s no need to burden her until a decision is made.”

“She’s a person, not a stock investment,” Miles muttered.

“She’s an Omega,” my mother said crisply. “And we’ve ensured she will be everything a discerning pack could want.”

Julian didn’t respond immediately. His fingers traced the rim of the untouched champagne glass in his hand. His gaze flicked to me again—and this time, he lingered.

Still not hungry.

Still not cruel.

Just... curious. Unsettlingly so.

“She doesn’t even look afraid,” Nicolaus observed.

“She’s been taught not to show fear,” my mother said, smiling like it was a compliment.

Julian stood slowly. “We’ll need to talk privately.”

“Of course,” my father said, rising with him. “We’ll send you everything we’ve prepared—documents, references, and her full personal file.”

My mother came to my side and placed a manicured hand on my arm.

“Come, darling,” she murmured, her voice honeyed and false. “We’ll leave the men to speak.”

I moved with her, my body remembering the script even as my stomach twisted. I didn’t look at the Alphas. I didn’t speak. But I could feel it—Julian’s gaze trailing after me like a breath of winter down my spine.

There was no judgment in it. No desire.

But something else…Like he was watching a fuse and wondering how long it would take to burn.