Chapter One #2
Profile: Romano Delgado is the technical brain behind the Rosetti Pack.
He demonstrates unmatched expertise in cybersecurity, surveillance systems, and electronic infiltration.
Romano can access virtually any digital system, rendering firewalls obsolete and erasing trails as efficiently as he leaves them.
He often projects a playful, youthful demeanor, but beneath lies a sharply analytical mind and a willingness to weaponize technology without hesitation. Surveillance has yet to uncover a network secure from his intrusion.
Personal Notes:
Skilled hacker; digitally proficient and strategically inventive. Displays an unexpectedly playful disposition that conceals lethal capabilities. Intensely loyal; uses humor as a shield.
Voss Harrington
Age: 36 Designation: Alpha Height/Build: 6’6”, imposing and muscular, lethal appearance Eye Color: Dark brown, unsettling intensity Hair Color: Black, typically secured in a bun or loose around shoulders Alpha Scent: Dark amber and spice Occupation: Senior Operative approach with extreme caution.
Overall Assessment: The Rosetti pack, individually and collectively, presents a formidable and uniquely dangerous threat. While loyalty seems unwavering, their capacity for violence, strategic manipulation, and intimidation is unprecedented.
The mattress creaks beneath me as I shift restlessly, the folder lying open across my legs, pages scattered chaotically around me like pieces of a puzzle I can’t quite put together.
My head aches from the sheer overload of information, but it’s my racing pulse and the warmth pooling in my belly that confuses me most. I'm supposed to be pissed—and trust me, part of me absolutely is—but intrigue is worming its way through my chest, unwelcome and persistent.
I never wanted this marriage. Four strangers chosen by my mother, thrust into my life or Gods knows what reason. It's absurd. But, as I study the faces staring back at me from their dossiers, my frustration is slowly eclipsed by curiosity.
Kingston Rosetti. His photograph stares back at me, intimidatingly confident.
Those piercing green eyes are dangerous even on paper.
Wealthy, powerful, ruthless—exactly the kind of alpha who should repel me.
So why does my pulse quicken at the thought of meeting him?
Of having those eyes look at me, really seeing me?
Then there’s Jace Calloway, whose confident smirk radiates charm and charisma.
Every detail in his dossier screams trouble wrapped in allure.
A smooth operator, persuasive and lethal when necessary.
Something in me stirs at the thought of unraveling the man behind that easy smile, even if I should know better.
Romano Delgado’s page nearly makes me laugh, and I find myself smiling despite my reservations.
His crooked grin and playful expression don’t match the description of a technological genius and cyber-warfare expert.
How does someone so dangerous look so disarming?
I’m both curious and wary about what lies beneath that easygoing exterior.
Finally, Voss. His eyes, dark and intense even in the grainy photo, send a shiver skittering down my spine.
Unhinged, volatile, dangerously lethal. Everything written about him screams at me to run, but instead, my heart pounds faster.
There's something compelling about his darkness, something that makes me want to reach into the fire, even if it means getting burned.
I'm so lost in thought, I don’t notice my bedroom door softly opening until my mother speaks. “Fallon, are you alright?”
I flinch in surprise, hastily gathering up the scattered papers, heart thumping guiltily as if she can read my inappropriate thoughts right off my face. “Fine. Just reading.”
Mom steps further inside, her eyes moving over the disorganized papers spread around me. Her expression is cautiously hopeful, worry shadowing the familiar amber of her eyes. “So…what do you think?”
“I think you’ve lost your mind,” I snap irritably, but my tone lacks real bite. I rub my temples, sighing. “I don’t understand why I have to marry. It’s ridiculous, Mom.”
She moves to sit carefully on the edge of my bed, tucking her caramel-brown hair behind one ear as she reaches for my hand.
Her fingers are soft and warm, grounding despite my annoyance.
“Fallon, I didn’t pick them randomly. These men…
they’re strong. They’re powerful. They’ll protect you, keep you safe. ”
“Yeah, but at what cost?” I mutter, glancing back down at Kingston’s intense stare from the dossier, heat climbing my mind drifts back to what else the four of them might do. I clear my throat, shaking off the traitorous thoughts. “This is all just…a lot.”
“I know, sweetheart.” Mom’s voice is gentle as she squeezes my hand. “But I wouldn’t put you in harm’s way. Trust me, please. These men might be fierce, but they’re honorable—at least when it comes to those they care about.”
She brushes my tangled blue hair off my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Give them a chance. You might find more than safety, Fallon. You might find happiness.”
She rises gracefully, heading to the door. “Think about it, sweetheart. Give them a chance before deciding to hate them.”
Fallon
February 9th
2:45 P.M
“You’re getting married… to the Rosetti pack?” Odette is staring at me. Mouth slightly open, brows furrowed, pure disbelief.
We’ve been best friends since we were kids—her family lives just two houses down from mine, so I understand why she’s struggling to process this. But still, the way she’s looking at me, you’d think I just told her I was sacrificing myself to a pack of rabid wolves.
Her fingers twitch like she’s fighting the urge to shake me. Or strangle me. Hard to tell.
Odette is gorgeous, a textbook ethereal omega with her long, fiery orange-blonde ombré hair twisted into her signature space buns.
Her warm brown eyes are narrowed at me, scanning my face like I might be joking.
At 5’6”, she’s taller than most omegas, her willowy frame making her look like she floated down from the heavens to judge me better.
Of course, anyone outside our circle sees her as the refined, always polished, always perfect one of our group. But I know better.
This woman could out-sass a room full of politicians and cut a man down verbally before he even realized he was bleeding.
And even though we’re going to try on dresses, she’s still in her usual power outfit—pencil skirt, high heels, looking like a damn CEO.
I don’t even have to ask why. She always says she likes the way her ass looks in them.
Before I can respond, my second-best friend Violet chimes in, voice flat but full of judgment.
“What the fuck is that about?”
She’s not even looking at me, just peering into a compact mirror, fluffing her short, vibrant purple hair like my potential demise is just another minor inconvenience in her day. Her blue eyes flick to me as she checks her black lipstick, unimpressed.
Violet is pure chaos in gothic form. Today, she’s wearing a dark purple blouse with black lace sleeves that stop just before her wrists and a flowy teal skirt that barely brushes her knees. Long black socks. Calf-high platform boots.
She looks like a gothic fairy, only 5’1”, but with the balls of a 7ft Alpha.
“Exactly what I said,” I sigh, fiddling with a hole in the knee of my jeans. “Mom really needs me to do this. She won’t tell me why, but she’s exhausted, and I’d do anything to help her.”
Odette crosses her arms. “Fallon.”
Violet smacks her lips together. “Fallon.”
They say my name in the same tone at the same time. I pointedly avoid looking at them.
Instead, I focus on my boyfriend’s jeans, loose, comfy, and cuffed at my ankles because I’m not tripping over fabric today.
At 5’4”, I refuse to become a victim of my pants.
My chunky blue sweater, covered in little yellow hearts, is my go-to for days when I want to feel cute but not like I’m trying.
Also, not washing my hair for two days was a choice. It’s past my ass, okay? That’s a lot of hair to deal with. I tied it up in a messy bun and called it a day. Nobody needs to know. The car rolls to a stop, and Henry, my driver-slash-bodyguard, steps out first.
As usual, he does his security check—which consists of glaring at everything that moves until the air feels uncomfortable—before finally opening the door.
Odette and Violet gracefully step out like royalty. I barely make it before Henry practically yanks me out of the car.
I stumble, my slip-on shoes barely keeping up with the force of a man built like a linebacker.
“Damn it, Henry!” I huff, catching my balance. “What did I tell you about your strength?”
The man dares to chuckle and then ignore me entirely. “Get inside, kid.”