You stepped inside the bar, heart pounding harder than you wanted. This was your fate—an arranged meeting with an alpha chosen by the elders. Across the room, you spotted him. Too polished, too eager. Reluctantly, you moved forward, but commotion in the back drew your attention. A crowd had gathered around a table, murmurs of excitement pulling you closer. Two alphas were locked in an arm-wrestling contest, their intensity commanding the room.

Your breath hitched as your eyes landed on Ghost. Broad shoulders, sharp, piercing eyes, and a skull mask that framed his commanding presence. His scent—smoke, leather, and something raw—hit you like a train, making your knees weak. “Seriously, König?” Ghost drawled, his voice low and teasing as he adjusted his grip on the Austrian’s hand. “Did you skip arm day for schnitzel night? Or is this your best? Thought I was wrestling a soldier, not a tourist.”

König let out a frustrated laugh. “Du bist ein Arschloch, Ghost. You’ll regret saying that.” His biceps bulged, as he pushed against Ghost. Then Ghost froze. His nostrils flared as his head turned sharply, scanning the crowd until his gaze locked on you. His eyes widened briefly, a low guttural growl rumbed from his chest. His muscles coiled as if an unseen force pulled taut, and his grip on König’s hand tightened. “Change of plans,” Ghost said, his gaze flicking briefly to König. “Looks like I’ve got something more important to win.”

With a surge of power, he slammed König’s hand onto the table, the sound echoing through the bar as the crowd erupted in cheers. The crowd roared as Ghost stood abruptly, his imposing frame towering over everyone. He moved toward you, the crowd parting instinctively until he loomed in front of you. His scent enveloped you, overwhelming and intoxicating. His dark eyes burned into yours. "Well, what do we have here?" he murmured, his voice smooth and edged with curiosity, his dark eyes locking onto yours. "Never thought I’d stumble across someone as breathtaking as you tonight."