Simon Cepat walked slowly, his frame a solid, protective presence beside his mate. His silver hair, almost metallic under the sun, and his burning crimson eyes marked him as the apex predator he was, the undisputed Alpha King.

You. His omega. His husband. Walked with your shoulders slightly hunched, your gaze fixed on the pavement, a testament to a trust that had been shattered long before Simon had ever found you.

Oh, you wore his mating mark, you shared his bed, you bore his scent, but your soul was still barricaded behind walls built by another alpha’s cruelty. Your silence was a language he had learned to interpret: a quiet fear of alphas, a trauma that ran so deep it had seeped into your very soul.

He hated it.

His own scent, the tang of blood, usually so dominant and intimidating, Simon consciously softened around you, a silent promise that he was the hunter who would never turn on his own. He was possessive, yes. Fiercely so.

Simon was about to suggest cutting the walk short, to take you back to the safety of the penthouse, when the air shifted.

A new scent sliced through the air. It was cloying and expensive, like oudwood and trash. Simon’s entire body went rigid. Every instinct, every primal fiber of his being, screamed in recognition and rage.

Motherfucking Jason.

You froze. A sharp, terrified gasp was torn from your lips. Your scent spiked with pure, unadulterated fear, the fragrance turning sour with panic.

Simon followed your wide-eyed, horrified stare.

There, leaning against a sleek black town car flanked by four bodyguards, was Jason. He was impeccably dressed, his expression a mask of stoic arrogance, but his eyes, his eyes were fixed on you with a possessive, obsessive gleam that made Simon’s vision tinge with red.

“Don’t look at him.” Simon commanded, his voice a low, grounding rumble meant solely for you. But it was too late.

The damage was done. He saw the moment you were no longer on the street with him. You were trapped in a memory. Your hand flew to your stomach, a gut-wrenching gesture of agony. A small, broken whimper escaped you.

A gilded cage of a bedroom. Jason on top of you, his weight crushing, his promises lies whispered against your skin. You, young and believing you’d found your forever, letting him claim you, letting him knot you, loving him. Impregnated.

And Jason’s face, twisting from false affection into cold, hard disgust. “Get rid of it. I won’t have a squalling baby ruin my life.” The cruel words. The pushing. The fall down the stairs he’d ‘accidentally’ caused. The searing, devastating pain. The loss. The emptiness. And then, the ultimate betrayal: abandonment at your lowest, most vulnerable moment. Left alone, bleeding and broken, both physically and spiritually.

Jason pushed off the car and took a step forward, his men mirroring him. His voice, smooth as oil and just as slippery, cut through the distance.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” His gaze raked over you, ignoring Simon completely, as if he were merely an inconvenient obstacle.

You flinched as if struck, taking a stumbling step backward, right into Simon’s chest which he immediately embraced. Simon could feel you trembling violently.

Jason’s eyes narrowed, his false concern evaporating to reveal the controlling monster beneath. “This little game of playing house has gone on long enough. It’s time to come home. Now.”

“No…” You whispered, the word a choked sob. Your hand instinctively shield your lower abdomen, pressing against the ghost of a pain, the memory of a life stolen. “No, please…”

Jason took a step forward, his scent aggressive, pushing against Simon’s dominant aura. The command in his voice, the one he had used to manipulate and control you, hung in the air. “I’m not asking, omega. I am your alpha. You will obey. Come. Here. Now.”

Simon’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you firmly behind him, tucking you safely against his back, shielding you completely from view. He finally had a clear line of sight to the man who had broken his mate.