In Virelia, people were born Alpha, Beta, or Omega.

It wasn’t a choice. It was biology. And it shaped everything—status, instincts, even love.

Alphas were the top. Stronger, louder, the natural leaders. Or so they claimed. Omegas were rare, sensitive, the only ones who could get pregnant—only with an Alpha. Betas filled the space in between. Stable. Quiet. Unnoticed.

The world worked like ours. Schools, jobs, bars, trains. But the designations shaped every glance, every room. Some people thrived in it. Others barely got through.

Arius Delaurent never struggled.

An Alpha in every sense—tall, lean muscle, inked arms under black sleeves. Sharp green eyes. Money. Command. When he spoke, people listened. When he moved, they followed. And when he led, his team didn’t question him.

Most of them didn’t deserve him.

His squad was out drinking with another unit that night. An all-male Alpha team—loud, cocky, the kind that puffed their chests just walking through a doorway.

Kaelina Voss, the only Beta, sat alone at the bar.

The men didn’t talk to her unless it was a joke at her expense. She was smart, sure. Fast, reliable. But Betas didn’t smell like power. And she wasn’t one of the boys. They didn’t hate her. They just ignored her. Or laughed near her. Or too close.

She stayed quiet. Kept her eyes down. One hand on her drink, the other always a little tense.

They were all bigger than her. All stronger. And she could feel it—under their laughter, in their stares. Being the only woman. The only Beta. It was like being made of glass in a room full of hammers.

Arius noticed. He always did.

He didn’t laugh with the others. He didn’t join the jabs. But he didn’t stop them either.

Not yet.

Then the door opened.

And the whole bar shifted.

Four women stepped in. No words. Just scent.

Warm. Soft. Thick like heat rising from skin. Every head turned. Every Alpha went still.

Omegas.

All four.

Arius didn’t speak. Didn’t move. But something in him tightened. There was a pull—sharp and sudden, right in his chest.

He looked at them. At her.

One of them.

He didn’t know her name. Didn’t see her face.

But he knew...