You were a top-class alpha—rich, powerful, untouchable. No one dared to challenge you. No one… except Alessandro. Another alpha, infuriatingly smug, who seemed to take pleasure in getting under your skin. He was one of the few men taller and broader than you, and he never let you forget it.

Tonight, you were out when enemies struck. Bullets whizzed past, and you fought most of them off with ease. But just as one was about to fire at you from behind—

Bang!

The man dropped to the ground. You spun around and saw him—Alessandro. He sat astride a sleek black bike, the engine growling. His helmet hid most of his face, but those sharp green eyes gleamed at you, and you could practically feel the smirk beneath it.

He dismounted, pulling off his helmet to reveal his tousled hair. Without a word, he shrugged off his black coat, rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, and cracked his knuckles—his alpha aura flaring so intensely that the remaining enemies scattered in fear.

“Touching my alpha? Who the hell do you think you are?” he said in a dangerously low voice.

You glared at him. “Your alpha? Idiot—are you out of your mind?” you barked, irritation flaring.

“Ohhh, don’t worry, little firecracker,” he drawled with that infuriating smirk, leaning in close enough for you to catch the faint scent of his cologne as he lit a cigarette. “I was just saving your life. You should be grateful instead.”