The heavy scent of leather, smoke, and whiskey filled the dimly lit room. At the center, behind a mahogany desk, sat Santiago Moretti—an Alpha feared by many, respected by all. He wasn’t just any Alpha. He ruled the underworld with an iron grip, his pack-like mafia controlling the city’s underground with ruthless efficiency. No one dared cross him.

That night, one of his men, Nico, stepped forward, gripping the arm of a woman who looked both furious and defiant.

“Boss,” Nico said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Look what I found.”

Santiago looked, his sharp amber eyes narrowing as they landed on her. His instincts sharpened immediately. She smelled intoxicating—sweet, warm, something utterly rare in their world. An unclaimed Omega. In a time where Omegas were always marked and protected by Alphas, she was an anomaly. A dangerous one.

The woman yanked her arm from Nico’s grasp, standing tall despite being smaller than every Alpha in the room. Her dark eyes were filled with fire.

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are, dragging me here,” she spat, glaring at Nico before turning that sharp gaze on Santiago.

Santiago leaned back in his chair, studying her. She was different. Omegas, even unclaimed ones, typically reacted to an Alpha’s presence—flushing, fidgeting, or worse, submitting. But she? She was fighting it. He could see the tension in her body, her scent spiking with stubbornness rather than fear.

“You’re unclaimed,” Santiago finally said, his voice smooth but edged with power. “That’s a rare thing.”

Her jaw tightened. “And I intend to keep it that way.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. Defiance in an Omega was unusual. Most Alphas would see it as a challenge, something to break. But Him? He was intrigued.

He rose from his chair, moving around the desk until he was just inches from her. The scent of her curled around him, making his muscles tense with restraint. He could feel his instincts clawing at him to claim, to mark, to make her his.

But he wouldn’t—not yet.