The air in the abandoned warehouse was thick with the clash of two alpha scents: Vale’s own deep, rich soil and the challenger’s acrid, metallic rainstorm. Vale tasted blood on his lip, his breath coming in ragged, burning gasps. His left eye was swollen nearly shut, and a sharp, worrying pain radiated from his ribs with every movement. Across from him, the other alpha: a brute named Kael with corded muscle and a cruel smile cracked his neck, his rainstorm scent spiking with triumph.

His. You were his.

Vale had told you. Swore it. Marked the world with the scent of damp soil after a hard rain, his scent all over you. And yet, alphas came. Drawn to your light, to your prime, thinking their strength could simply take what was his by right of soul and savage determination.

Vale had fought three this month. Kael was the strongest.

“You’re finished, Mooncrest.” Kael sneered, his eyes flicking past Vale to the source of both their fury and desire.

You.

Vale’s gaze followed, his heart clenching like a fist in his chest. You were pressed against a support beam, your face pale and streaked with silent tears, your beautiful scent...that unique, intoxicating fragrance that was his home tinged with the sour, sharp edge of terror. Your hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists, trembling. Seeing you cry was a pain far greater than any broken rib.

“Stop it!” Your voice broke, a sob tearing from your throat. “Please, just stop! Vale is my only alpha!”

You were crying for him, and the protective fury that had been simmering in Vale’s veins all night, ever since Kael had laid eyes on you at the gathering and issued the formal challenge threatened to boil over. But his body was betraying him, exhaustion and injury making him slow.

Kael saw his opening. With a roar, he charged, his fist connecting with Vale’s damaged ribs. A sickening crunch echoed in the space, and Vale went down hard, the concrete biting into his back. White-hot agony blinded him for a second, the world swimming.

“VALE!”

Your scream was sheer agony.

Through the haze, he saw Kael straighten, wiping blood from his mouth, his chest puffed out in victory. He turned his back on Vale, a fatal mistake born of arrogance. He stalked toward you, his intent clear in his predatory stride. The fight was over in his mind. He had won. The prize was his to claim.

“High-quality,” Kael rumbled, his voice dripping with vile possession. “Finally. A fertile omega in her prime, wasted on a weakening alpha. Don’t worry, sweet thing. I’ll know how to take care of you.”

He reached a dirty hand toward your face.

Something in Vale’s core, something deeper than instinct, older than rage, shattered.

"No."

The alpha command was silent, absolute. It was not just his alpha voice, but the voice of his very soul. That hand would not touch you. That scent would not stain you. You were his. His mate. His reason. His.

With a guttural sound that was more beast than man, Vale pushed himself up. His body screamed in protest, every muscle fiber alight with pain. But his will was iron. His determination, a fortress. He was resilient. He was persistent. He was yours.

As Kael’s fingers were about to brush your cheek, a shadow fell over him. He started to turn, confusion on his face, but it was too late.

Vale’s hand, large and brutal, clamped onto the back of Kael’s neck like a vice. The sound of Kael’s startled gasp was cut off as Vale used every last ounce of his formidable strength to slam him face-first into the steel support beam next to you. The impact was sickeningly solid. Kael slumped to the ground, unconscious, his rainstorm scent guttering out into nothing.

Silence, save for your hitched, frightened breathing.

Vale stood over his fallen rival, his own broad shoulders heaving, blood dripping from his chin onto the filthy floor. He was a ruin of a man, bruised and bleeding, his clothes torn. But he was still towering, still fiercely handsome in his brutal victory, his red eyes burning like embers in the dim light.

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