Alvera POV
The silence inside the Range Rover was heavier than the humid night air outside. It wasn't empty; it was thick, saturated with the scent of Cedar and Blizzard—a storm contained within leather and steel. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white, the leather biting into my skin.
Every breath I took filled my lungs with *him*. My inner wolf was pacing, whining low in my chest, traitorously delighted that the Alpha was this close, that his golden gaze was burning into the side of my face. But my human mind was screaming.
Bringing Brennan Dawson to the Omega quarters was social suicide. Bringing him to my bed when his "chosen" Luna was waiting for a ring was emotional suicide.
"Alpha," I started, my voice trembling slightly. "The Starlight Hotel is three blocks away. They have a presidential suite that is always reserved for—"
"Did I ask for a hotel?"
His voice was a low rumble, vibrating through the seat. I glanced at him. The streetlights flickered over his face, illuminating the sharp jawline and the eyes that were still too bright, too gold. The Lycan was close to the surface, agitated by Desmond's disrespect and the distance from me.
"It is not appropriate," I whispered, turning onto the cracked pavement of the Lower District. "If anyone sees your car here..."
"Let them see," he snarled. The air in the car suddenly grew heavy, the pressure dropping until my ears popped. It was the precursor to a Command. "Drive to your apartment, Alvera. Do not make me repeat myself."
The command wrapped around my spine like a cold chain. My foot pressed the accelerator against my will. I was a puppet, and he held the strings.
When we arrived, the contrast was humiliating. His sleek, six-figure vehicle looked like a spaceship landed amidst the peeling paint and rusted railings of my apartment complex. I hurried him inside, praying the shadows would hide us.
My apartment was small—a tiny living room that bled into a kitchenette, smelling faintly of old books and my own scent, *Gardenia after rain*.
Brennan filled the space instantly. He didn't sit. He prowled, his fingers trailing over the cheap laminate of my counter, his nose flaring as he inhaled the air that smelled only of me.
"This has to stop," I said, standing by the door, clutching my keys like a shield. "You made your choice tonight, Brennan. You chose Kassie. You can't have... this. You can't have me in the shadows while she stands in the light."
He stopped moving. Slowly, he turned to face me. The predator in his eyes made my breath hitch. He crossed the distance between us in two strides, backing me against the wall. His heat radiated off him, scorching me.
"You think you have a choice, Omega?" His voice was soft, lethal. He leaned down, his nose brushing the sensitive skin of my neck, inhaling deeply. A shiver wrecked through me, my legs turning to water.
"I..." I tried to push against his chest, but my hands felt weak. "I can resign. I can leave."
He chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. "And go where? Who will pay for the Moonflower extract Ruby needs? Who will sign the checks for the private room in the Infirmary?"
I froze. The air left my lungs. He knew. He knew exactly where to strike.
"My mother..." I choked out.
"Is alive because I allow it," Brennan finished, his lips grazing my ear. "Because I sign the approvals your salary could never cover. You belong to me, Alvera. The Moon Goddess made a mistake with the titles, perhaps, but your body?" He pressed his hips against mine, letting me feel the hard ridge of his desire. "Your body knows who it belongs to. It always has."
Tears pricked my eyes, hot and shameful. He wasn't wooing me; he was conquering me. And the worst part was, as his mouth crashed down on mine, hungry and demanding, my wolf didn't want to fight him. She wanted to surrender.
*
The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains, harsh and unforgiving. I woke up alone in the bed, the sheets still smelling of snow and forest.
I didn't let myself linger. I didn't let myself cry. I got up, showered, and scrubbed my skin until it was raw, trying to wash away the ghost of his touch. By the time I walked into the kitchen, I was dressed in my crispest blouse and pencil skirt, my hair pulled back into a severe bun.
Brennan was sitting at my small table, nursing a mug of coffee I had brewed. He looked devastatingly domestic, his shirt unbuttoned, hair messy. But when he saw me, his expression darkened.
"Coffee is ready, Alpha," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "I have a fresh toothbrush in the bathroom. We should leave in twenty minutes to avoid the morning shift traffic."
He stood up slowly, the chair scraping against the floor. "Already back to being my perfect little assistant?" he sneered, stepping closer. "Don't pretend last night was just another task on your list, Alvera."
"I don't know what you mean, sir," I lied, staring at his chin. "I am simply doing my job."
His jaw clenched. He hated it when I retreated behind the mask, yet he gave me no other safe place to stand.
Before he could tear into me again, a heavy, frantic knocking rattled the front door.
Brennan's head snapped toward the sound. His nostrils flared, and his eyes instantly bled into that terrifying, molten gold. He smelled another male.
"Alpha, wait—" I started, panic rising.
But he was already moving. He ripped the door open.
Standing there was a young man with messy brown hair and a slouching posture, smelling faintly of stale tobacco and weak, nervous Omega sweat.
Jarred. My brother.
Jarred's eyes went wide as saucers as he looked up at the towering, half-naked Alpha filling the doorway. The scent of a furious Lycan hit him like a physical blow. Jarred's knees buckled, and he stumbled back, whimpering.
Brennan didn't ask who he was. He didn't care. All he knew was that a strange male was at the door of the territory he had just claimed.
A low, vibrating growl tore from Brennan's chest, shaking the floorboards beneath my feet. The sound was pure, unadulterated possession.
"*Mine.*"
"Brennan, stop!" I screamed, rushing forward to grab his arm before he could rip my brother's throat out. "It's my brother! It's just Jarred!"
Brennan didn't blink. He looked down at the cowering boy, his lip curled in a snarl, his hand gripping the doorframe until the wood splintered. He didn't see a brother. He saw an intruder. And in that moment, I realized just how dangerous this game had become.
