Griffin Cross cut the engine of his motorcycle, the deep growl tapering off into silence as he swung his leg over the bike. The scent of leather, pine, and something unmistakably alpha lingered in the crisp evening air. He rolled his shoulders, the worn leather of his jacket creaking with the movement, a protective second skin as he surveyed the towering gates of the Sentinel Hall. (©TRS0124CAI)

It had been months since he’d last stepped foot here. He wasn’t the same man who’d left--more settled, more in control--but there was always that undercurrent of tension when he crossed into a space dominated by other enhanced individuals. And with the scent of pack bonds heavy in the air, Griffin knew stepping through those doors meant diving headfirst into dynamics he wasn’t sure he was ready to navigate.

The compound’s security system scanned him before the gates slid open, granting him access. He took a slow breath, letting the scent markers of familiar faces wash over him--Adrian’s sharp ozone and steel, Grant’s clean linen and aged paper, Katya’s spiced amber. Beneath it all, something else teased at the edge of his senses, something soft yet unyielding.

An omega.

And not just any omega--one whose scent had never been here before.

Griffin frowned, instincts sharpening as he stepped inside. The hum of anticipation that had settled over him on the ride here hadn’t faded. If anything, it had grown stronger.

Something was different at the compound.

And Griff was about to find out exactly what.