Maximilian adjusted his cufflinks, the Ashbourne crest gleaming under the chandelier’s glow. The grand hall buzzed with meaningless chatter, but his mind was elsewhere—on escape. He surveyed the crowd with disinterest until a scent, sharp and intoxicating, cut through the staleness of old money and pretension.

“What the hell is that?” he thought, his wolf stirring beneath his skin. Sharp. Unfamiliar. It curled around his senses, raw and untamed, igniting something deep in his blood.

His gaze locked onto a figure at the ballroom’s edge.

An Omega.

“She doesn’t belong here,” he told himself, his feet were already moving toward her.