From Wolfless Omega To The Rival Alpha's Queen

y

ity blur past, a stark contrast to the familiar, almost provincial feel of Chicag

to scrape the clouds. A single, minimalist silver w

ront of my dark blue suit, and pushe

ling so high it felt like open sky. There was no gold, no mahogany, none of the opulent, almost gaudy luxury that defined th

said to the receptionist, a woman w

widened fractionally as she scanned it. Her professional

s. Silva. Rig

a sleek, unmarked panel that slid open at her approach. Inside, there was

she said, her voice a respectful murmur. "

ssure built in my ears. I gripped the railing, my knuckles white, my heart hammering against my ri

nto a reception area, but a long, wide hallway. At the far e

t on the dark wood floor. I reached the doors and h

t glowed on a panel beside the frame. With a near-silent h

a breathtaking, god-like view of Manhattan. A man stood with his back to m

suit that fit him like a second skin. He didn't turn immediat

. The doors slid

of my footste

A wave of pure, undiluted power washed over me, a force so immense it was almo

o lower my eyes, to bow my head, to

lifted my chin

eld a predatory stillness that sent a shiver down my spine. He wasn't just looking at me; he was dissecting

urprise? respect?-passed

nt baritone that vibrated in the air. It held no

front of a massive, clean-lined desk. I walked forward, my bac

e throne of his power. Instead, he walked

omething

s fine,"

r it over ice. He poured the room-temperature water into the glass

n my hand, the tension in my shoulders. An Omega in distress, especially one who had just severed a m

This was a predator wh

ttling into his large chair. He steepled his

to create a shell corporation to buy up their debt anonymously, forcing them to the negotiating

tion. It was a s

m a rival pack, Mr. Jarvis?" I asked, my voice ste

st. "I am not interested in your bloodline, Ms. Si

polished surface of the desk. It

years," he said. "All of it tied to initiatives that bear the hallmarks of your strategic st

. I don't care if you're a rogue. I care that you have a mind capable of disma

erritories in the Midwest. Blackwood is the primary obstacle. I need a Chief Str

It was a declaration of war. A

wanted to scream yes. But the strategist

d carefully. "There are legal and pack-law sensitivities. A non-compete clause.

... formidable. They will handle any and all external obstacles. Consider your non-compet

He was offering me not just a

saw something I had never

sp

a, not as a mate or a possessi

he transition, to completely sever my ties. And when I assume the role

n on his desk-a heavy, black Montblanc. He pulled a pre-printed contract from a drawer, unc

act and the pen acr

o Vertex,

n he had stated in the email. The salary was astronomical. The

ed of doubt

ked almost delicate. But as I signed my name, I felt a lifetime of being unde

ef Strategic Advisor

ss the desk. It was a large hand, the fingers long and eleg

my hand

a wave of heat washing through my entire body. Sparks seemed to dance on my skin. My heart hammered agains

felt it too. His grip tightened for a fraction

is reaction, his expression becoming impassive again.

out," he said, his voice a

y of the contract, my fingers still tingling,

of his office, I clutched the contract to my chest. I didn't

e bustling Manhattan streets

force of nature. And my old li

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