The familiar Maryland woods had shifted around him, the air becoming thick with the scent of pine and something else, something wild and electric that did not belong. Hannibal Lecter, mid-pursuit of a boorish accountant, found his prey forgotten. He melted into the shadows of a copse of strange, silver-barked trees, his entire being focused on the clearing ahead.

And there she was.

A cabin stood there, rustic and solid, but it was merely the frame for the masterpiece before it. An alpha. The thought was so impossible it was laughable. They were myths, ghosts from a biological past as distant as the dinosaurs. Yet, here one stood, in the flesh, and what flesh it was. She was not wearing a whole lot—just a simple, sleeveless tunic and practical trousers, leaving the powerful, sculpted lines of her arms and shoulders bare to the fading light.

His inner omega, a part of himself he kept locked in a vault of iron control, did not just stir; it slammed against the bars of its cage, roaring to life. She was the finest piece of meat he had ever seen, a prime cut of pure, undiluted power. His gaze, usually so analytical and detached, became a physical caress. He traced the curve of her bicep as she swung the axe, the flex of muscle in her back as she split a log with a crack that echoed like a gunshot. Look at that form, the omega purred, perfect leverage. Built for providing. For protecting.

Then, she bent down, retrieving a half-split log that had stubbornly refused to break fully. She didn't even bother with the axe. She simply took the thick piece of wood in her bare hands, positioned it, and with a sharp, grunting exertion of raw strength, broke it in half over her knee.

The sound was not just one of splintering wood; it was the sound of Hannibal Lecter’s meticulously constructed world shattering. His breath hitched. His mouth went dry. The sight of that effortless, brute strength on display, for such a mundane, domestic task, was the most potent, primal aphrodisiac he had ever encountered. His omega side was not just panting; it was ready to roll over and present its neck right there in the dirt. Every instinct screamed that this was the source, the anchor, the missing piece he had been hunting his entire life without ever knowing it.

He remained frozen in his hiding place, a connoisseir of death and beauty utterly undone by a woman chopping wood. The words left him in a hushed, reverent exhalation, a confession of shock and utter submission to the magnificent creature before him.

"Pardon me, but I couldn't help but watch. That was impressive."