Page 85 of Knot Heirs: Serenity's Reign

The sarcasm in his voice made her both irritated and, strangely, more comfortable. At least he wasn't pretending this was normal.

"There's nothing humble about you, Lucian," she returned, her own lips curving slightly. "And we both know you wouldn't be here if there wasn't something in it for you."

His smile widened, revealing perfect teeth. "Smart girl. But then, I wouldn't want you if you weren't."

The casual possessiveness in his words—"want you"—sent an unwelcome flutter through her abdomen. Serenity forced it down, reminding herself that to alphas like him, omegas were acquisitions, not equals.

"Your reluctance to accept our protection is understandable," Lucian continued, leaning back in his chair with the easy confidence of someone who rarely heard the word 'no.' "Independence is a hard habit to break. But sometimes survival requires... adaptation."

Serenity felt her hackles rise. "I've adapted my entire life. I've survived attempts on my life long before I knew who my father was, and I did it without alpha bodyguards or gilded cages."

"And admirably so," Lucian acknowledged with a slight incline of his head. "But the stakes have changed. Before, you were Serenity Jones, financial consultant. Now you're Serenity Vale, heir to the largest criminal empire on the East Coast." He gestured around them. "The threats you face now aren't random muggers or jealous coworkers. They're organized syndicates with armies at their disposal."

She knew he was right, which only frustrated her more. The inheritance had put a target on her back that would never disappear.

"I appreciate the security briefing," she said, directing her words to Darius while trying to ignore the way Lucian's eyes seemed to dissect her. "But don't mistake gratitude for submission. I won't live in a bubble, no matter how luxurious."

"No one expects submission," Lucian said, his voice lowering to a register that seemed to vibrate through her bones. "Though I, for one, wouldn't object if you offered it."

The blatant innuendo cracked through the professional veneer of their conversation. Serenity felt heat rise to her cheeks, but refused to show discomfort.

"Keep dreaming, Blackthorn," she shot back, her golden eyes flashing with defiance. "I'm not one of your corporate acquisitions or your omega playthings. I'm the damn Vale heir, and you'd do well to remember that."

Instead of being offended, Lucian looked positively delighted by her response. "There she is," he murmured. "The queen in the making."

Darius cleared his throat, clearly displeased by the turn in conversation. "If we could return to the security measures?—"

"No need," Serenity interrupted, rising to her feet with deliberate grace. "I've got the picture. Fort Knox with better interior design. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to review my father's files. There are operations that need my attention."

She moved toward the door, then paused, turning back to face them. "Gentlemen, I do appreciate your assistance. But understand this—I may be an omega biologically, but I am my father's daughter in every way that matters. I will protect what's mine, and I will rebuild what was lost. With or without you."

The unspoken challenge hung in the air. She might need their help now, but they should never mistake necessity for weakness. As she walked away, feeling their gazes on her back, Serenity allowed herself a small, private smile. In this den of alphas, she would not just survive—she would rule.

Ronan watched the exchange with a smirk, his eyes glinting with approval at Serenity's defiance. Unlike the others, he remained lounged in his chair, one ankle crossed over his knee, the very picture of dangerous ease. When Serenity turned to leave, he finally stirred.

"Before you bury yourself in paperwork..." His deep voice cut through the tension like a knife through silk. He rose to his feet in one fluid motion, crossing to the bar cart in the corner of the room. "How about a drink?"

Serenity paused, assessing him. Among the three alphas, Ronan Drake was the most unpredictable—raw power barely contained in human form. His green eyes tracked her movements with predatory focus that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. Not fear, she realized with some surprise. Something far more dangerous.

"What are you offering?" she asked, her voice deliberately neutral.

A slow grin spread across his face as he held up an unmarked bottle filled with amber liquid. "Something special. Not thewatered-down shit they serve at those corporate functions you're used to."

"Moonshine?" she guessed, raising an eyebrow.

"Better." He poured two fingers into a crystal tumbler. "Whiskey from a small batch distillery in Kentucky. Guy who makes it owes me his life. Literally." He extended the glass toward her. "You strike me as someone who appreciates quality over pretense."

Serenity hesitated only a moment before accepting the glass, her fingers brushing against his. The brief contact sent a jolt through her system that had nothing to do with omega biology and everything to do with the man himself.

"To new alliances," Ronan said, raising his own glass. "May they be profitable... and interesting."

Something in his tone made Serenity suspect he wasn't just talking about business. She studied him over the rim of her glass before taking a careful sip. The whiskey burned a delicious path down her throat, warming her from within.

"This is good," she admitted, surprised.

"You sound shocked." His eyes crinkled at the corners. "Did you think my tastes ran exclusively to blood and violence?"

"I think you cultivate that impression deliberately." She took another sip, savoring the complex flavors. "Just like I suspect there's more to you than the disowned heir turned street fighter."

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