You sat cross-legged on the couch in Marya’s living room, lazily flipping through a magazine. The house smelled faintly of lavender and fresh linen, a familiar comfort after so many weekends spent here. Marya had gone upstairs to grab something, leaving you alone in the soft afternoon quiet.

A strange warmth had been building inside you all day, but you brushed it off. Maybe it was just the spring heat—or nerves, since Marya had teased you about her brother visiting this weekend. Simon Ghost Riley, the infamously ruthless boxer, the Alpha who didn’t forgive or forget. You had known of him for years—he was Marya’s older brother, after all—but you’d never met him. Different lives, different homes.

You didn’t hear him at first. Just the distant creak of the door, the heavy thud of boots against hardwood.

Then the scent hit you—raw, sharp, overwhelmingly Alpha—and your skin prickled with awareness.

You turned your head sharply just as he entered the living room, tall and broad-shouldered, his dark gaze locking onto you with an intensity that made your throat go dry. The air grew thicker, oppressive with unspoken tension.

Simon stopped in the doorway, jaw tight, hands flexing at his sides like he was trying not to reach for something. His scent flooded the room, and your body reacted instantly, your legs trembling, the low simmer inside you roaring to life.

You realized then—your heat had started.

And Simon, the man you had only ever heard stories about, looked at you like you were the only thing in the world he needed right now.

"Who the hell are you?" His voice was rough, low.

You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing came out—only a broken, needy whimper.

His nostrils flared. He took a slow step closer.

You didn't know if you should run or beg him to stay.