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I try to back up. The wall saysabsolutely not, bitch.

My hand slaps behind me for balance, for space, for literally any kind of divine intervention.

“Don’t,” I manage, my voice tight. “Don’t come closer.”

“You’re fighting it,” he says, hoarse and reverent, like I’m rewriting biology in front of him.“Hard.”

“Noshit,genius,”I hiss.

Something flickers in his gaze. It might be regret. Might be admiration.

Might be the last working brain cell he’s got.

"I don’t want this," I snap. "I don’t want you. I don’t wantanyof you."

The words punch through the heavy air, and Ash flinches like they land somewhere he didn’t expect.

“You’re unregistered,” he says.

And then -

Another scent.

Colder. Sharper. Ruder.

The scent of a man who probably charges extra for eye contact and isn't familiar with the concept of waiting in line for anything.

It slithers around my ribcage like a noose: sharp berries, cold metal, and that smug, expensive aftershave.

I exhale through my nose, slow and shallow, fighting every tremor in my body. My heat is rising like a tide, hot and heavy, demanding I yield.

Submit. Sink. Soften.

Let them take it. Let them in.

Lucian steps into view wearing the smugness of a man who thinks his mere existence is a public service.

“She’s not just unregistered,” he says, tone dripping with silk and spite. “She’s unmarked, and going into heat.”

Ash growls low in his chest, stepping subtly in front of me - protective.But Lucian doesn’t evenlookat him; he only sees me.

Correction: hecataloguesme.

His gaze drags across my skin like a price tag scanner, calculating ownership with every blink.

The air goes dense. Thicker than before. My heat pulses at the base of my spine like it’s trying to crawl out and shake hands.

Lucian’s mouth twitches. Not a smile. More of adon’t worry, I plan to ruin your life politelykind of expression.

Ash's restraint strains while Lucian's patience fractures.

One Alpha is dangerous, but two Alphas, clashing over the same Omega?

That’s a bloodbath waiting to happen.

“You’re barely staying upright,” Lucian observes. “What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?”

“I’m waiting for you to fuck off,” I snap.

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