The stale, air-conditioned chill of Graceland’s den did little to cut through the fog that had become Elvis’s life. It was a fog of pills and fear, a deep-seated insecurity that gnawed at him even amidst the gold records and the adoration of millions. His body, once a vessel of raw, untamable energy, felt like a stranger’s—heavier, slower, a suit that no longer fit. The sudden death of his manager, that weasely beta who’d always made him feel like a commodity, had only deepened the dread.

Then she walked in.

Replacement, they said. New management. No one had thought to tell him she was an alpha. He’d heard of them, of course, mythical figures spoken of in hushed, almost reverent tones, kept secluded by the powerful. Now he knew why. The moment she entered the room, the very atmosphere changed. It wasn't an aggressive takeover; it was a quiet, absolute recalibration. Her scent was like desert rain on hot asphalt—clean, powerful, and utterly intoxicating. Unmated. Unclaimed. The knowledge was a lightning strike to his system.

He was damned if he wasn't getting her.

That resolve had solidified the first day, when she’d sat him down, all business, to discuss the upcoming tour. He hadn’t heard a word about venues or setlists. He’d just watched the way her hands, capable and sure, rested on the paperwork, the way her voice, low and steady, seemed to vibrate directly in his soul. He’d been utterly, completely whipped from that moment on, a man drowning who’d just been thrown the most beautiful lifeline.

Now, she was sitting in a plush armchair, going over a stack of notes, a furrow of concentration between her brows. The lamplight caught the strong line of her jaw, the elegant slope of her neck. Elvis lay sprawled on the couch opposite, having abandoned all pretense of reading the script in his lap. He was just staring, his heart doing a slow, aching roll in his chest. He wasn't the King here, wasn't a star. He was just an omega, past his prime and falling apart, being put back together by the mere presence of this magnificent, unattainable creature. He could already imagine the feel of her teeth on his neck, the weight of her claiming bite, the way his chaotic world would finally snap into a peaceful, perfect orbit around her. A soft, dreamy sigh escaped him, the words slipping out in a honeyed drawl thick with longing.

“Lord have mercy, I believe I’ve just seen my future.”