Chapter two
Lily
The Kennedy Estate rises out of the dark, all gold light pouring out of tall windows, lanterns glowing soft up the drive.
My ride pulls in behind a lineup of shiny black cars, and I can see through the window alphas in expensive suits getting out, helping their omegas from the back seats, hands on the small of their backs, steering them toward the massive front doors.
Bonded pairs, every last one. Exactly what I’m supposed to want but never could find.
I press my palms down the front of my blue dress, again, because I don’t know what else to do with my hands.
The registry van is plain compared to the other cars, a big, practical shuttle they use for ferrying unbonded omegas like me to these events.
It’s a reminder: we aren’t treasures yet.
We belong to the system, not a pack. There are three other omegas in the van with me.
We’re all dressed up, but underneath we carry the same look on our faces, that desperate hope.
“Good luck tonight,” one of the girls says, climbing out. She’s young, maybe nineteen, hair the color of a traffic cone and freckles sprinkled everywhere. She has that bright hopefulness about her, like the registry hasn’t knocked it out yet. “I have a good feeling about this one.”
I try to smile back. “You too.”
Outside, the air is cool. It smells like the estate’s gardens, flowers and trimmed hedges and underneath…
the thick musk of alpha pheromones. They’re already everywhere, even though we haven’t stepped inside yet.
I can feel my body react, heat blooming under my skin, and I have to stop at the bottom of the steps and breathe.
It’s going to be a long night.
Inside, the Kennedy Estate is a whole other level of fancy.
Crystal chandeliers scattered across the high ceiling, making rainbows on the marble floors.
There are flower arrangements everywhere, roses, lilies, something spicy I can’t name, all perfuming the air.
Waiters in white jackets passing around trays of champagne and tiny, perfect snacks.
A string quartet in the corner, their music almost drowned out by the conversations and laughter.
And alphas. Everywhere I look, alphas.
They’re always in groups. Never alone. Their scents mix into something unique for each pack. Some already have their omegas, bonded pairs you can pick out from across the room—quiet and settled. Others are prowling, scanning the room for whatever they think their pack is missing.
I feel them look at me when I walk in. The assessments. A few glance and move right on, already bored. Others stare a little longer, nostrils flaring, maybe interested or maybe just reacting like any alpha does to a stray omega.
None of them feel like a fit. They never have.
I grab a glass of champagne from a passing tray and hover near a giant vase of lilies, trying to look open but not too open.
There’s a trick to it but I’ve never quite figured it out.
Too eager and you’re easy prey. Too cold and they ignore you.
Other omegas find that sweet spot somehow, the perfect in-between that draws alphas in. I never seem to get it right.
I’m just standing there, trying not to look lost, when someone says my name.
“Lily.”
My whole body goes cold. I already know who it is, even before I turn. My hand trembles on the champagne glass as I force a smile and turn around to face Brennan Foster.
He’s handsome, obviously. That’s always the first thing people say.
He’s tall, all stacked muscle, and his blond hair is styled just so.
His face is sharp, all angles, and the chandelier light catches him just right.
It’s hard not to admire him with my eyes.
But my instincts still say no… there’s something wrong there.
But it’s his eyes that get me. Always. Pale gray, cold, and empty under the surface. His mouth smiles. His eyes don’t. When he looks at me, my body knows it’s prey.
“I was hoping I’d see you tonight,” he says, voice smooth. “You look beautiful, as always.”
“Thank you.” It comes out flat. “You look… nice.”
His smile widens, lots of teeth. “I’ve been thinking about you. We all have.” He gestures, and suddenly I’m aware the rest of his pack has surrounded me, like they’ve practiced it.
Jules appears at Brennan’s right. He’s tall, thin, dark hair slicked back, face like a knife, and those ice-blue eyes just skim over me, zero warmth. His smile is more of a warning than anything else.
“Lily,” he says.
Tyler’s on Brennan’s left. He doesn’t say a word, just stares like he’s memorizing me for later. Built like a wrestler, solid and compact. He never blinks.
Kaison towers behind them all, huge. His shoulders are wide enough to blot out the chandelier. He doesn’t talk. Doesn’t even really look at me. Just stands there.
Four alphas. Me. No way out.
“We saved you a seat at our table,” Brennan says, his hand sliding onto my lower back, his fingers pressing a little too hard. “I know how overwhelming these things can get. Thought you might like a home base, so to speak.”
Every part of me wants to run, but I can feel everyone’s eyes, especially Mr. Gibbs, the registry director, watching from across the room. I think about what Dr. Turner told me this morning. My mother’s tears. The three, four months I have left before my body gives out. Maybe less.
“That’s very kind of you,” I say. “Thank you.”
Brennan’s smile sharpens. He steers me through the crowd, never letting go. Jules is right next to me, always brushing my arm. Tyler and Kaison flank us like guards. It feels like being marched to prison, not like meeting your potential pack.
Our table is front and center, perfect view of the stage. I end up wedged between Brennan and Jules, both of them leaning in to block out everything else. Tyler sits across, eyes never leaving me. Kaison takes the end chair and dwarfs it.
“The Santos pack is sponsoring tonight,” Brennan says, pouring me a glass of wine before I can say I don’t want it. “Charity for orphans or something. Very noble.”
He says it like the words taste bitter. I can’t help asking, “You don’t like them?”
“The Santos pack?” Brennan snorts. “They’re fine. If you like that sort.”
“What sort?”
“The knight in shining armor type.” He pushes the wine toward me, watching my face. “Gabriel Santos thinks he’s a hero. Rescues broken omegas, runs charities, makes everyone else look like garbage.” His lip curls. “It’s exhausting.”
I take a sip to avoid talking. The wine is good, probably the best I’ve ever had, but it might as well be water. Everything tastes flat when Brennan Foster is this close.
Jules leans in, his breath hot in my ear. “Speaking of. Here comes the man himself.”
I look up, and everything stops.
The crowd splits down the middle as the Santos pack walks in. I get what Brennan meant now. These alphas don’t just show up—they own the room. Every eye is on them. It isn’t just power or money. It’s how they move.
Gabriel Santos is in front. He doesn’t fake confidence. He just has it. Big shoulders, easy stride, brown hair a little messy, stubble on his square jaw. But his eyes are what snag me: deep blue like a galaxy, and he sees everything. Every person. Every detail.
He’s in a suit that probably costs more than the registry has spent housing me for the last few years, but he wears it like it doesn’t matter. He’d protect you, I think, and never make you feel small for needing it.
I feel a pull toward him. It’s small but I don’t know what to do with it.
Behind him is another alpha. Same height, not as wide. His hair is brown too, lighter, and he’s got green eyes full of smile lines. His grin is so open I almost smile back, which is wild because I don’t even know his name. He looks like he’d tuck a blanket around you if he thought you were cold.
I want to know him. I don’t know why but I do.
And then the third walks in, and the room goes quiet.
He’s huge. The biggest alpha I’ve ever seen.
Kaison looks almost normal-sized next to him.
Heavy muscle, moves like he’s used to being the scariest person in the room.
Black hair pulled back, face all hard lines and shadows, tattoos crawling up his neck and down under his shirt.
His eyes are dark, scanning the room like he’s waiting for a fight.
Gabriel commands. The second is comfort. This one is danger. Everyone backs away as he passes.
I should be panicking. Every instinct says danger.
But my omega? She isn’t scared. Not even a little. She doesn’t want to run from these alphas. She’s curious. Interested. Leaning in.
“The Santos pack,” Jules says. “Gabriel’s the front man, obviously. He’s the boss, runs a big company, thinks he’s hot stuff. The happy one behind him is Garret. He’s nice, if you like nice. And the monster is Cyrus. He’s only scary if you get on his bad side.”
I’m barely listening. I can’t stop watching Gabriel Santos. The way people react to him. He makes everyone stand a little straighter just by walking in.
What would it be like to belong to someone like that? An alpha who doesn’t need to bully anyone to feel strong? Who just makes you feel… safe? Seen?
I’ll never know. Alphas like him don’t look twice at omegas like me. I’m old news: housed at the registry for years, failed meets, a body that’s starting to fall apart. Why would anyone pick me when they can have someone whole?
“See something you like?”
Brennan’s voice almost makes me jump. His hand is on my thigh now, under the table, squeezing hard enough to leave marks. His eyes are narrow, pupils small and menacing.
“I was just—“ I start, but he doesn’t let me finish.
“You were staring at him.” Brennan’s voice drops low, nasty. “At Gabriel Santos. Like a bitch in heat.”
The words hit where they were meant to, but it’s the look in his eyes that scares me. His fingers dig in so hard I know there will be bruises tomorrow.