UTTERLY TRANSFORMED

A long shower helped me pull myself together. Then, I sat at the computer and saw an email from Mr. Ragu with contact information for all four clients—and a fifth, an alpha whose contract would expire in five weeks. I decided to leave that one for later; I had more time to deal with it.

I bit my lip as I analyzed the addresses. Two clients were local, but one—Salt—was in prison, and Star lived a few hours away. To make things worse, Star’s contract was expiring first, in just 11 days. Time wasn’t on my side.

I hesitated before picking up the phone, clearing my throat a few times to make sure I sounded more confident and professional.

Finally, I dialed Star’s number. He picked up after four rings.

"Go ahead," he said, his tone formal, like I’d just called an office receptionist.

"My name is Storm Nolan, and I’m calling on behalf of Fate’s Choice agency. I wanted to see if I could set up a quick meeting with you to discuss carrying out our part of the contract."

There was a short silence on the other end, and I couldn’t tell what it meant.

"Alright, if it’s necessary. You can come tomorrow at noon," he said, his tone all business.

I hesitated. Damien’s heat might still be an issue tomorrow.

"Okay, let’s plan for noon tomorrow, but if anything changes, could I call ahead and reschedule for the day after?"

"I’d rather not. I have mandatory training with my company on Thursday and Friday."

Right—Star worked as a consultant at Malden Pharmaceuticals now.

"Got it. I’ll do my best to be there by twelve o’clock."

I couldn’t keep putting this off, especially with the fair coming up on Saturday. It felt wrong to have this kind of conversation over the phone, so meeting in person was a must.

After hanging up, I sighed. The pressure was getting to me. The marital contract fair was creeping closer, and I still needed to convince the other three to participate—a tall order with so little time.

After staring absentmindedly out the window for a while, I went back to work.

The next file belonged to Salt Einarson. The last name gave me a little pause, but I had no idea why. Surprisingly, the beta’s case turned out to be the easiest to deal with. The contact information included a phone number for someone from the "Second Chance" agency handling his situation.

Based on the contract details, this person essentially called the shots. Salt himself didn’t have much say in the matter. Ah, the joys of being a criminal… I narrowly escaped this fate!

I made the call, and the conversation was surprisingly short. The handler, polite but formal, listened to my explanation about the fair and immediately said:

"No problem. We’re very motivated to find someone for Salt, so we’re open to exploring every possible option to broaden the search for a suitable partner. He’s a unique case, and we’re invested in his future."

Well, quadruple murder definitely counted as unique.

"But could Salt have any objections? I’d prefer to speak with him directly."

The handler’s voice stayed neutral. "I understand your concern, but individuals with cases of this magnitude don’t usually have much say, Mr. Nolan. He has two options: opt out of the program entirely and remain in prison indefinitely—or accept the terms and benefits that come with it."

It still made me uncomfortable, knowing how little choice Salt really had.

"Will you at least give him a heads-up before the auction?"

"Of course. Rest assured, we’re not forcing him into anything. Salt voluntarily joined the program and signed a contract granting us significant authority in finding a match for him. We’ll make sure he’s informed and shows up for the fair."

I hesitated, unsure if I should push further. "Salt’s also part of another program, isn’t he? To find the right match, I’d need details about that too."

The handler sighed. "Yes, we’ve shared all relevant information with Mr. Ragu. Salt is also enrolled in the Beta Activation Program. You can look it up if you need more specifics."

"Oh, I don’t have to. A guy I used to f—uh, I used to know told me all about it. It’s a pretty controversial program."

Yeah, Finn—my brother Winter’s ex that I hooked up with a few times in the past—had told me all about this government program. It was meant to make betas reproductively viable, but it was a PR nightmare.

The handler let out an awkward chuckle. "Well, yes. Beta Empowerment groups have called it a ‘beta annihilation program’, and it has sparked protests, riots, and even physical attacks on those involved in its creation. But that doesn’t concern us. Salt simply wants to avoid staying in prison, and this program, along with the Second Chance initiative, are his two paths forward—one or the other."

"Got it. We’ll see what we can do. Attending the fair could really help his situation."

"I agree. He’ll be there."

And that’s where the conversation ended, though I still felt a twinge of guilt. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I should talk to the guy. I even pulled up his photo. He looked like someone who valued independence, and I couldn’t help worrying this whole situation might feel humiliating for him—but I didn’t have much choice.

Something in my gut told me he needed to be at the auction.

At least the first two calls had gone smoothly.

The next one was even easier. Darien Ferro, the mobster's widower, agreed to meet me tomorrow afternoon without any fuss.

The surrogate, Day Sanderson, was a little less friendly, but like Ferro, he agreed to meet me one hour later. Thankfully, they only lived about fifteen minutes apart by car, so it wouldn’t be a huge hassle.

After a moment of hesitation, I decided to check out the profile of the alpha Mr. Ragu had included in the email. His contract wasn’t up for five weeks, so there was still time. But something about it made me curious enough to click.

When I opened it, my jaw nearly hit the floor.

I knew him.

It was Gabriel Nolan—one of my cousins.

What the fuck?

I blinked, staring at the picture on the screen, stunned.

We weren’t close.

Gabe was younger than me, still in college, and we didn’t really have much of a relationship. But he was family, no question. I knew he’d gotten into serious trouble recently with an eco-activist group. A few weeks ago, he’d been arrested after one of their protests spiraled out of control. Honestly, I hadn’t paid much attention to it—I wasn’t close enough to Gabriel, and I had my own mess to deal with. Plus, when I was in court over my issues, he didn’t bother to call me either.

Gabe had a background in martial arts, mostly kickboxing, so the group had used him as their muscle—a bodyguard or enforcer. As I read further, I was shocked to learn, he and his friends had destroyed one of Malden Pharmaceuticals’ labs. Millions of dollars in damages.

But that wasn’t the worst part. They’d started a fire in one section of the building, not realizing the cleaning staff were still inside. They’d endangered several people’s lives.

When it came to sentencing, Gabriel was given a choice: go to prison or join the Second Chance program. Just like Salt, this meant he could attend the marital contract fair, and if paired with someone, he’d be under house arrest with an ankle monitor for a few years.

I stared at the screen, trying to process it all. For some reason, my instincts told me this upcoming fair wasn’t right for him. The one in two weeks seemed like a better fit.

Still, the situation bothered me enough to call Nathaniel—he was always more in tune with family stuff than I was.

He picked up right away, and after I explained everything, he said, "Yeah, Gabriel’s situation was rough. Six people ended up in the hospital, some with serious burns. The property damage was no joke either. Uncle Van was able to get in touch with Blue Lowen, the CEO of Malden Pharmaceuticals, thanks to Winter's mediation. They practically begged him for mercy. Lowen surprised everyone by agreeing to let Gabe into the Second Chance program instead of sending him to prison. It saved his life, honestly. Now he has a shot at finishing his degree online. He’s only got a year left. If he’d gone to prison, it would’ve wrecked him. You know how sensitive and anxious he is."

Indeed, Gabriel was quite anxious. At family gatherings, he always stayed in the corner, avoiding attention. I rarely spoke to him—my energy seemed a bit much for someone as shy as he was.

After hanging up, I remained puzzled. My relationship with my family was rocky, especially with my brothers, who had intense personalities, some volatile, but Gabriel was different. He wasn’t the type to get into trouble. Quiet, timid boy, always in the corner? It didn’t add up. Why had he let himself spiral like that? Almost ruining his life and education?

As I stretched, I reminded myself that tomorrow would be even busier and definitely crazier. All things considered; I hoped Damien's heat wouldn't carry over into the third day.

Just as I finished closing all the files, I noticed Damien standing in the doorway, watching me. His expression made it clear he needed me.

"Tomorrow, I’ll need to head out for a few hours," I told him. "I’ve got to meet with the clients to convince them to join the fair. I can’t handle this over the phone—it’s too delicate, especially since they’ve signed contracts specifying, they wouldn’t participate in fairs or auctions. I need to figure out a way to… well, persuade them. No idea if I’ll even pull it off."

Damien nodded slowly, uncertainty written all over his face.

"But," I added hesitantly, "if your heat’s still going tomorrow, maybe you could come with me? When the wave starts, we'll figure something out on the way…"

His smile broadened, and he nodded again. "Sure. Thanks for thinking about that. I don’t want to mess up your work, especially since you’ve just started. I’d be happy to tag along if it comes to that."

I relaxed. At least that part was sorted.

"And now…" I stood and offered him my hand. "Shall we go to the bedroom?"

He blushed and nodded.

We spent the next hour tangled together, his heat wave still in full swing. At one point, I just lay on top of him, moving slowly, our eyes locked. It was intense, deeply intimate. Part of me so desperately wanted to say something—to confess that I wanted more than just this heat. But, of course, I held myself back once again.

When the wave eased up, I made us some lunch. Damien worked on his laptop in the meantime—coding. Over lunch, I noticed he was eating more than before, which made me think the heat was starting to taper off.

After that, we went back to the bedroom for another hour. This time, it was even slower, gentler, very tender. And yet again—I had to fight with all my strength not to ask him to be mine. It was getting ridiculous. The sex became kinda bothersome, I felt like I had a suffocating gag in my mouth, preventing me from declaring what my heart wanted.

Later in the afternoon, I decided to call Mr. Ren Ragu to update him on the planned meetings. But as soon as I picked up the phone, it rang.

It was Mr. Ragu himself!

Convenient timing.

The moment I answered, I knew something was up. His voice sounded raspy, and I could hear his breathing—it was quick, almost panicked.

"Storm, I hate to ask you this, but I need you to get here ASAP," he blurted out.

I blinked. "What?"

"Yes, yes, it’s urgent!"

"I told you I’m assisting a friend. You know what that means, right?"

"Of course, which is why I’m fine with you bringing him along. We’ve got resting rooms here—four of them in the administrative building. Bring him. You can stay with him almost the whole time, but I need you for a few crucial minutes."

"I don’t get it."

"Listen, you know the company’s trying to come up with better ways to identify if someone’s a Low Mate or incompatible. We’re about to sign a deal for an experimental testing program with Malden Pharmaceuticals. It’s groundbreaking. And confidential. If this goes through, we’ll be the first agency to filter out incompatibles during matchmaking. Every match would be at least Low Mate, if not higher. And Blue Lowen himself is arriving in… forty-five minutes!"

I yawned, losing interest. "What does that have to do with me?"

"A lot. Time’s tight, and Lowen’s safety is crucial. He’s probably the most targeted man in this country. He’s survived multiple assassination attempts. So many groups hate him—for his strong suppressants, for the Beta Activation program, and God knows what else. Last time, he barely made it out alive. He’s paranoid now—but with good reason. This meeting is top secret. Nobody knows about it. But here’s the problem… His condition for showing up was that we provide extra security. He demanded four people, but we only have three on duty, and now there’s… forty-two minutes left."

"You didn’t think to hire someone extra earlier?"

"I did! I hired three extras, just in case! But today, all of them mysteriously resigned. All of them. Do you get it?"

I blinked. "That’s… impossible. Someone got to them."

"Exactly. Someone threatened them, warned them, something like that. I’m sure of it."

"Then call the police! There could be an attack—"

"I can’t. Lowen won’t go public about it, the deal has to stay discreet. I’m already risking a lot just telling you this."

I rubbed my forehead. "This sounds like another assassination attempt in the making. You should contact the police. Is this deal really worth risking your lives for?"

"Not necessarily. It could just be sabotage. If we don't meet his conditions, he'll go away. That would be a win for our competition. And remember, he has his own bodyguards, and we’ve got three people here. Pulling off an attack with that much security would be crazy. But Lowen demanded four. No exceptions. If we don’t deliver, the whole thing falls apart. The man’s… eccentric! Brilliant, but weird. I need you here, Storm. You’re our bodyguard for now, remember?"

"For fuck’s sake, this is insane. We could all be in danger. And there’s only forty minutes left. It’ll take me twenty just to get there—"

"Then get in your car now! I’ve already called two other agencies. Nobody can get here in under an hour. You’re my only option! Just show up for a moment so Lowen sees you. Then you can stay in the resting room. When he's about to leave, you reappear. That's it."

"You’ve got to give me something for this, Mr. Ragu. This is a lot to ask. I’d be risking my life—and someone else’s."

"I’m ready for it! You can have your old job back with your previous salary, starting now. No proving yourself needed. And if you lock in at least three out of these matches I asked for, you get the raise we talked about—and… a fixed percentage of all future contracts you close. Deal?"

A percentage of all contracts? That sounded sweet. Almost like… a partnership deal!

"Alright. However, there are two more things—I’m officially still your husband’s employee till the end of this month, but I want to be permanently off the fucking Johansson commission, no matter what happens."

"Fine, I’ll talk to Jun and make it happen. What’s the other thing?"

"I broke one of Dark Dream’s rules. I contacted one of the clients outside company work hours for his heat assistance—"

"Not important! That’s Jun’s problem, not mine. Now get your ass moving!"

"He may be angry—"

"He won’t. I’ll deal with it. Hurry up!"

"Fine. I’m coming—with him."

"Whatever. Just hurry!"

Feeling slightly dizzy, I turned around, and there was Damien in the doorway.

He must’ve heard everything—thanks to his sharp rose omega hearing.

His eyes were wide, but he was smiling. "Well, I guess we’re going! Sounds like quite an adventure. And a risky one."

I let out a breath of relief. "Crazy, huh? But listen, it could be dangerous if Ragu’s wrong, and this is an assassination attempt—"

Damien crossed his arms. "I could say the same about you. I’d rather you didn’t risk it, either."

"I’m hard to kill, Damien. Really hard."

"And I can defend myself just fine," he said, holding up his hand and letting little electric sparks flicker between his fingers. "Besides, I’ll be in a separate room, right?"

I blinked. "Still. I hate putting you at risk."

"He is my uncle, Storm. He's a good guy, and he doesn’t deserve these attacks. He has suffered enough. Maybe our presence can make a difference?"

"I understand, but you are not his bodyguard. It's not your duty to protect him. I’m putting you in risky—"

"There might not even be a risk. We don’t know. But one thing’s certain—time’s running out."

"You’re right!" I rubbed my forehead, groaning in frustration. As we argued, precious minutes passed. "Okay, fuck it. Get dressed. We’re going!"

We threw on our clothes and practically ran to my car.

Two minutes later, I was driving like a maniac, praying for green lights. Damien was next to me, staring out the window.

"Uncle Blue’s had a tough life, you know?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, desperately trying to overtake a truck on a double solid line.

"He didn’t get everything handed to him on a silver platter. Our family wasn’t as famous back then. When he was a teenager, he had an accident that left him infertile. Later, complications led to all his glands being removed. He threw himself into science after that, working on revolutionary methods of tissue regeneration and so much more. He’s a genius. Our family had only a few investments in Malden—Grandpa was just one of many shareholders for years. But Blue became CEO there only because of his own incredible accomplishments in regenerative biology."

"Is he married?"

"No, never was. He lives like a monk. Work’s his whole life."

"With no glands… did he even mature properly?"

"Well, he’s pretty small, around 5’3". He looks fragile. Without glands or a uterus, he can’t go into heats or have kids. I guess he decided to focus on his career and making a difference in the world."

I hesitated before saying this: "Funny thing? My second cousin, Gabriel, was part of an attack on Malden Pharmaceuticals. He’s just a kid—it was some kind of eco-activist group he got mixed up with. They saw your uncle as the enemy. A lot of groups hate him."

Damien’s eyes widened. "Wow, that’s insane! Are you serious? What a coincidence!"

"I probably shouldn’t bring that up with Mr. Ragu," I muttered. "He might think I’m not the best pick to guard someone who got my cousin arrested."

"Probably not. This whole situation is nuts. You were smart to push Mr. Ragu into rehiring you, though. This is risky, and you deserve some guarantees for showing up to work under these crazy conditions."

I exhaled softly. "Let’s hope he doesn’t backtrack later. I’ve got some weird ideas for matching clients, but it’s all based on intuition. Mr. Ragu trusts me for now, but what if something goes wrong?"

"Could something go wrong?"

"I hope not. I firmly believe in my… supernatural intuition." I winked, trying hard to sound casual.

Damien bit his lip, glancing at me like he wanted to ask something but wasn’t sure. He must’ve picked up on my self-doubt.

Let’s face it—I’d already messed up one crucial thing. I hadn’t realized right away if Damien was my True Mate. And I still wasn’t 100% sure, just… 99%. But I should have known. That could be considered a major fuck-up, right?

"So… how does your intuition even work?" he finally asked, slightly hesitant.

"It’s hard to explain. When I look at two people’s pictures, I see this… color spectrum. Like their energy lines up. It’s weird, but it works. I’ve matched a few High Mates using it."

"Could you use it to find True Mates too?"

This was risky territory, and I hesitated again. Sharing too much might change the tone of our conversation.

"Yeah, I think I can. I wouldn’t bet my life on it, but I feel like I can find True Mates for this group of clients."

Did I sound overconfident? Damien’s eyes widened.

"Really? That would be… incredible."

I thought about the nagging feeling I’d had lately. Should I mention it?

"Yeah. The more I focus, the clearer it gets. Sometimes, I even feel like I already know who their True Mates are."

Damien blinked, clearly shocked. His cheeks flushed. "Wait, you already know? Who are they?"

Yes, yes. Now we were firmly in delusional territory. Feeling sheepish, I added, "I think their True Mates are… my cousins."

Saying it out loud made me cringe like crazy.

Did it really have to sound so absolutely insane?

Damien stared at me, slack-jawed. Yeah, no surprise. I’d be floored, too, hearing something this wild.

Biting my lip, I muttered, "This whole thing feels… off. Like it’s not a coincidence. It’s like Fate is pulling the strings. Higher power stuff. I can’t believe it’s random."

"But your own cousins, Storm? That sounds like some kind of observer bias."

And… there it was. I frowned. This was exactly why I hadn't told anyone, not even the cousins in question. It just sounded too ridiculous, too wild.

Damien studied me as I fell silent, with a crease on my forehead.

"Hey, listen… I don’t doubt you, it’s just—"

"You wouldn’t be the first, that’s okay. Everyone doubts me." My tone came out more sour than I intended.

Damien huffed, letting out a protesting whimper. "Storm, I didn’t mean it like that! I know you’re special, different. And I know you believe in this. If anyone can pull off a miracle like finding True Mates, it’s you. Who else could? You’re purple, and… no man can be your equal , right?" He grinned.

I shrugged. "I guess we’ll see soon enough. Maybe some doubters will come crawling back on their knees, apologizing…"

"And maybe one of them will get on his knees for a different reason," he teased with a wink.

"I wouldn’t mind that," I shot him a knowing smile.

Truthfully, I didn’t know if there was anything to brag about yet. So far, it was just a gut feeling. A strong one, yes. Sure, I’d figured out one of my brothers’ True Mates before it was confirmed (and maybe one more!), but could I rely on just a few examples? Perhaps I still needed to keep my ego in check.

"I'm kinda going back and forth on this. But that would be the real test of my abilities," I admitted. "Before, I worked with a set database. Now I have to find people in the open pool. It’s a whole new level. And first, I need to convince these clients to even attend the fair. Everything depends on that."

As we neared the company building, I turned into the parking lot and checked the time.

"Fifteen minutes left. We drove for twenty-five. Damn it! Let’s go."

We got out of the car. The wind was sharp—September wasn’t bringing good weather. Damien’s bright red-pink hair whipped across his cheeks. For a moment, I found myself staring at him—his small nose, freckles, and full lips.

Then Damien circled the car and approached me in a few quick steps.

"Storm," he said, stopping in his tracks, his eyes fixed on my face. His small hand landed on my forearm, sending a pleasant shiver through me.

"Listen… I believe in you. I really do! You can do anything you put your mind to. I wasn’t joking when I said no man can be your equal . Not… in my eyes." He was slightly out of breath by the time he finished, a strange intensity in his whole body.

We stood there for a moment, caught in each other’s gaze. His energy, his strong aura—it all mesmerized me; he was enchanting me, making me… his.

"You’re perfect," I murmured, brushing my fingers against the birthmark on his cheek.

He blushed. "Me? Have you seen yourself?"

"Yes, you. I’m sorry all of this is happening during your heat. It must be awful being dragged around like this in your condition."

Damien laughed, waving it off. "Nah, not at all! Your life is fascinating. I’m glad to be a part of it. And I appreciate you thinking about my situation instead of leaving me out in the cold."

"Of course. I promised I’d be here for you."

He smiled sweetly, and, hand in hand, we headed toward the administrative building to the left of the main hall. There were more cars in the parking lot than I’d expected, considering it wasn’t an expo day, and for a while, I kept looking around.

We walked into the lobby. The receptionist didn’t stop us—he must’ve been briefed about the situation. We went straight to the elevator and rode up to the floor where Mr. Ragu’s office was located.

To my surprise, three security guards I didn’t recognize were standing outside the office. None of them had worked here when I was a guard. They must’ve been new hires. As they noticed me, one of them frowned slightly, like he wasn’t happy I was there. Clearly, they’d been informed of my arrival.

Their attention didn’t stay on me for long. A moment later, all three of them shifted their focus to Damien, and I saw their nostrils flare as they caught his scent. Of course. Damien’s pheromones weren’t being suppressed by blockers.

Immediately, I let out a low, warning growl from deep in my chest. All three of them instinctively stepped back a little.

Without saying a word, we walked past the guards. I knocked on the office door and heard Mr. Ragu’s nervous voice invite us in.

Mr. Ragu was in the room with only one beta employee flipping through a stack of documents spread out on the table. Mr. Ragu stood nearby, nervously wringing his hands. The atmosphere was thick with stress.

Only then did I recognize the beta—it was Jordan, Mr. Ragu’s lawyer, who handled contract reviews for the company. We never got along. He was a skinny guy in his mid-30s, and he gave me a sour look, clearly remembering our less-than-friendly past.

I smirked slightly. "Oh, hi there, Jordan. Nice to see you again. And good afternoon, Mr. Ragu—I came as requested."

Mr. Ragu, too preoccupied to notice my thinly veiled disdain for Jordan, immediately hurried over to shake my hand.

"Thank you, Storm. You’re saving my life here. I’ve been informed that Mr. Lowen is only running five minutes late, so he’ll be here in about fifteen minutes."

I frowned. "Why are the guards standing outside your office instead of securing the area? The parking lot is full of cars—have they all been checked? What’s going on? Do you even have a plan?"

Mr. Ragu waved his hands nervously, trying to explain, but Jordan interjected, his tone sharp. "Those idiots have been here for just a month. They’re complete rookies and don’t know what they’re doing. They need to be whipped into shape, or we’ll lose this contract. The other security team that backed out at the last minute was supposed to cover the open area, leaving our team to handle the inside. That’s why it’s a mess. Nobody is doing what he’s supposed to."

I muttered a quiet curse. "I’ll deal with it if I have time, but my priority is getting Damien to a designated room. I don’t want him hanging around near those guards." I gestured subtly toward Damien, who was quietly observing the conversation.

Mr. Ragu glanced at Damien, his nostrils flaring slightly—he was an omega himself, so it was unlikely he would react at all, except with a sour grimace. For most omegas, the smell of another person’s heat was rather unpleasant and pungent. But he held his face still. "Yes, yes, let’s take care of that quickly. Jordan, you’ll escort them, won’t you?"

Jordan grimaced, obviously annoyed. He wasn’t a PA but a senior attorney for the company.

"Where’s Robert?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Isn’t this supposed to be his job?"

"He suddenly called in sick and didn’t show up today," Mr. Ragu replied, exasperated.

I cursed under my breath again. Everything about this situation felt off. Mr. Ragu was here with only Jordan and three basically unknown guards. Even Robert, his usual right-hand man, was absent.

"Fine," Jordan grumbled, placing the stack of documents back on the table. "Let’s get this over with."

"I’d prefer the room to be close to where the meeting is happening," I said firmly.

"Of course. The conference room is one floor down. There are also two adjacent lounge rooms right next to it. I think it would be best to put him there. That way, you can move quickly if needed," Mr. Ragu said, gesturing for Jordan to grab a set of keycards from a cabinet.

"Let’s go, then," I said.

We all headed toward the door, leaving Mr. Ragu in the office. When we stepped outside, the guards were gone. Interesting. The chaos surrounding this situation made my unease grow even stronger.

"I’d like the keycard for Damien’s room to stay with me," I told Jordan as we rode the elevator down a floor.

Jordan nodded curtly.

The hallway was dimly lit, with pale lights overhead. Through large glass doors, I spotted a spacious conference room that took up most of the floor. But Jordan led us farther down the corridor to a quieter area with two additional doors.

"These aren’t really hotel rooms," Jordan explained. "They’re more like break rooms for guests attending long conferences. People can leave their belongings here, and sometimes we set up a buffet during longer meetings."

We stopped at one of the doors. "There’s a pull-out sofa inside," Jordan added, clearing his throat awkwardly, "and the cabinet has… supplies. You know, just in case."

Neither Damien nor I acknowledged the not-so-subtle suggestion. We all knew what he meant.

Jordan unlocked the door. The room was small but functional, with a stack of bottled water and packs of salty snacks in one corner. A decent-sized sofa, which could be unfolded, took up the opposite wall. There was also a desk and two chairs.

I turned to Damien. "Stay here. I’ll keep the keycard, and no one will bother you. I’ll be just outside the conference room for as long as I need to be, and I’ll come right back afterward."

Damien blinked, then murmured so quietly that only I could hear, "The wave hasn’t started yet…"

"Doesn’t matter. We don’t know how soon it might happen. Just call me if anything comes up."

He nodded, then suddenly stepped closer and wrapped his arms around me, pressing his head to my chest. The simple gesture filled me with warmth and protective instincts. I leaned down and kissed the top of his head, but it didn’t feel like enough. Tilting his face upward, I gently held his chin and kissed his soft, pouty lips.

"I’ll be back soon," I promised.

"Take care of yourself," Damien whispered. "My intuition—it’s not as sharp as yours, but I’ve got a bad feeling. Something weird is going on."

"We’ll see. I’ll stay vigilant."

With that, Jordan and I left the room. I locked the door behind us, scanned the hallway, and then turned to him.

"What’s in the second room?"

Jordan pulled out another keycard, unlocked the door, and showed me the room. It was almost identical to the first one.

"I’d like the keycard for this room as well," I demanded.

Jordan handed it over, his expression sour as usual.

Just then, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and looked up in alarm.

"He’s here! We need to get downstairs right now!"

We rushed to the elevator, and thirty seconds later, we were already on the first floor. Mr. Ragu stood in the lobby, looking extremely frazzled. One security guard was with him, but the other two were nowhere to be seen.

"Let’s go meet him outside," Mr. Ragu muttered, gesturing toward the security guard. All of us exited the building. Only then did I notice the other two guards standing on either side of the entrance, scanning the area, though they didn’t seem particularly focused.

Right at that moment, Mr. Lowen’s limousine pulled up in front of the main entrance. A black car in front of it came to a stop first, and three men—evidently his personal security detail—stepped out.

They approached the limo and positioned themselves strategically, completely shielding Mr. Lowen from view as he exited the vehicle. Another man followed him out of the car.

The group of five began walking toward us. As they got closer, I finally laid eyes on Mr. Lowen for the first time, after hearing so much about him.

The powerful CEO of the biggest pharmaceutical corporation in this country was very short—as Damien mentioned, not more than 5’3", small even for an omega. His hair was strikingly unique, styled in a straight, navy-blue fringe that fell over his eyes, with the back reaching his shoulders. The strands were absolutely smooth and even. Small, sleek glasses perched on his nose—clearly not regular lenses. They looked electronic, possibly synced to his phone.

When his pale sapphire-blue eyes locked onto mine for a brief moment, I knew immediately. People always looked at me like that, with that distinct mix of recognition and unease. He could tell I was a purple alpha.

Although Mr. Lowen was around forty years old, his appearance was ageless. To anyone unfamiliar with his background, he could easily pass for a man in his mid-twenties! No doubt, his youthful looks were thanks to his immense wealth—he could afford the best rejuvenation treatments money could buy. His delicate build and boyish hairstyle only amplified that impression.

As I studied him, a realization hit me like a freight train…

At that moment, I knew exactly who his True Mate was. The clarity of it was absurd, and I had to stifle a laugh at the irony of it.

So, definitely, my talent was taking off. I was just getting started!

Mr. Ragu stepped forward to greet Lowen, but the omega waved him off impatiently, his high, piercing voice carrying an icy tone. "Let’s go inside. I dislike open spaces."

Mr. Ragu nodded fervently, and we all moved into the lobby.

Only once inside did the formal greetings take place. I noticed, however, that Lowen didn’t shake Mr. Ragu’s outstretched hand, completely ignoring it. Behind us, another man entered—a beta in his fifties, probably one of Lowen’s lawyers.

We headed toward the stairs instead of the elevator, as per Lowen’s pre-arranged instructions. Apparently, he had been very specific about his preferences for this visit, and I’ll admit, I felt a bit out of my element. I didn’t know the protocol, nor what the exact security requirements were. Mr. Ragu’s guards seemed equally clueless, following no clear plan.

We climbed the stairs to the floor where the conference room was located. During this time, Mr. Ragu chatted with Lowen, whose responses were sparse, but I wasn’t paying attention. An unsettling feeling had taken root in my chest and was growing stronger by the second.

When we entered the conference room, that unease exploded into full-blown alarm. It took everything I had not to yell for everyone to leave immediately.

The area was set up with a podium near one wall—likely a spot where the company’s CEO typically delivered speeches. My eyes were drawn to it with inexplicable intensity.

In front of the podium was a long table surrounded by chairs, with snacks and water bottles neatly arranged on top. Mr. Ragu and Mr. Lowen sat at the table, with Jordan and Lowen’s other lawyer taking seats beside them.

The suffocating sense of wrongness in my chest was building to a breaking point. My ears picked up on something—a faint, barely audible beeping. It was rhythmic, like an old digital timer or stopwatch.

No one else seemed to notice it. The guards outside the room, along with Lowen’s one guard stationed by the door, showed no signs of alarm. It wasn’t surprising, though. As a purple alpha, my senses were far sharper, and even I could barely hear it.

Unable to stand it any longer, I took a step toward Mr. Ragu and said firmly, "We need to leave this room. Right now. Something’s not right."

Mr. Ragu shot me a look of disbelief and irritation, clearly annoyed at my interruption. But Lowen’s reaction was entirely different. His sharp, light sapphire eyes locked onto mine, and I could tell he believed me.

Without a word, he shot to his feet and rushed toward me.

What happened next defied my imagination. I reached out, grabbing Blue Lowen around the waist and turning my back to the podium.

"Get down!" I roared, feeling a little bad about leaving the others, especially Mr. Ragu, who was my boss and an omega, but there was nothing I could do.

In two powerful strides, I lunged toward the far end of the room, flipping over a snack table with a forceful kick. Diving behind it with Lowen, we tumbled to the floor just as a massive explosion ripped through the air…

The building shook violently.

The deafening blast nearly knocked me out, and debris rained down on us—splinters of furniture, shattered ceiling panels, glass, loose wires.

But all I could think about was Damien. The conference room was separated from the room where he was staying by just one wall. If the explosion had come from the podium, the blast had been dangerously close to it.

In my head, I felt a strange, schizophrenic tug-of-war. On one hand, I knew I should protect Lowen—both as his bodyguard, even if only for one day, and because he was a petite omega—so my deeply ingrained instincts spiked off the charts. But on the other hand, I was certain Damien needed me too. Judging by the state of the room—ceiling panels in shreds, metal beams dangling precariously, and the air thick with smoke and dust—it was clear this was a dire situation. I could barely see, and all I could hear were groans, likely from Mr. Ragu and the others. I wasn’t even sure if everyone was alive, though the faint sound of pounding hearts gave me some hope.

For a moment, I was paralyzed by indecision. Was it safe to leave the cover of the table? Was the bomb the main attack, or was there more waiting for us? If I stepped out now, I had no idea what I’d face. But I had to get to Damien. He was the priority.

I looked at Lowen, unsure how to even begin explaining the presence of his own nephew here, so the words tumbled out just like that, pure instinct:

"My boyfriend’s in the next room—I have to go to him! I don’t want to leave you here, but I do have to check on him. The wall might’ve collapsed; he could need my help."

Lowen’s face was pale, his expression a mix of despair and disillusionment. Was he thinking about how his people had failed him yet again? He lay on his back, half-pinned under me, his eyes meeting mine with startling clarity.

"Take me with you. Only you can save me."

Why would he assume that? I was a stranger to him. Yet for some reason, he trusted me, so I nodded.

"Alright, but it’ll be riskier for you. Are you sure?"

"Yes. I won’t stay here alone."

That’s when I noticed something odd—my voice sounded different. My glands tickled, and I realized my fighting mode was activating. That didn’t happen often, but under these circumstances? Totally justified.

My entire body felt like it was burning and tingling, a sensation that told me the bony spines hidden in my body were about to emerge from the purple streaks along my limbs. I couldn’t risk Lowen being pressed up against me any longer.

Clearing my throat, I groaned out, "Listen, I’m going into fighting mode. When I transform, I… change. I lose control over the spikes, you know, the bone protrusions that will come out of my body." I explained awkwardly. "Stay behind me, but keep a safe distance, alright?"

His eyes widened in shock, but he nodded. Every purple alpha had unique abilities. The spines and bone plates were pretty standard, but how they formed, where they emerged, and their size varied from one person to the next.

He glanced at my shoulders, probably noticing how my suit strained against the changes taking place. I had to get rid of my clothes, and I did, while he stared at me. I left only my boxers on. Then, carefully, I peeked over the edge of the table. The room was a dense fog of smoke and debris—visibility was nearly zero.

"Stay close!" I barked, my voice almost unrecognizable, deeply low.

I rose, feeling my body morph in real time. Pressure built in my chest and abdomen as bone plates shifted under my skin, sliding into place to shield my vulnerable organs. The sensation was sharp and piercing, like being split apart from the inside, but I pushed through the pain, adrenaline helping with that.

Guided by instinct, I made my way toward the door. Lowen followed, his presence quiet behind me. As I emerged from the dust cloud, my foot nudged something. I realized it was a body—one of the guards. Lowen must’ve noticed him too because he murmured, "Jason? Jason, are you alive?"

Silence. I couldn’t even hear a heartbeat. The grim reality hit me—this wasn’t just a dream. People were dying. Up until now, it had felt somewhat surreal, like a scene from an action movie. But now? This was a nightmare we couldn’t wake up from.

The glass doors leading out of the conference room were shattered. I stepped through carefully, scanning the smoky hallway beyond. The visibility was still terrible.

Suddenly, I heard it—the pounding of footsteps. Four pairs, closing in from two directions.

"Get down!" I yelled to Lowen.

Then came the gunfire. The first burst struck me in the solar plexus, the second just below my collarbone.

The impact knocked the wind out of me for a moment, and blood sprayed across my face. My adrenaline surged even higher, and in an instant, all the spines erupted all over my body…

Time slowed. My reflexes heightened. With a single leap, I covered nearly six yards, crashing into one of the attackers like a battering ram. Through the haze of smoke, I saw he was dressed entirely in black, his face obscured by a mask. My forearm spines tore through the fabric around his neck and shoulder. He screamed as blood sprayed from the gash.

The second man behind him hesitated, dropping his gun in favor of a taser. He pressed it against my naked torso, sending an electric charge straight through me.

But… nothing happened! No pain, no paralysis—nothing. I was… immune? The realization was as shocking to him as it was to me.

To be fair, I’d never tested my resistance to electricity before. I wasn’t one of those kids who stuck fingers in sockets or licked battery terminals for fun. And yet, here I was, resisting electricity. It was almost funny—Damien, with his ability to generate electrical discharges, paired with me, who could withstand them. Talk about complementary powers!

That thought lasted all of a second. My claws—yeah, I had those too!—slashed across the second man’s face, leaving him screaming and clutching at his wounds as he fell to the floor. The first man was already on his knees, blood gushing from his shredded throat.

But it wasn’t over. I felt another round of bullets slam hard into my back. The bone plates there absorbed most of the impact, but the force was like being hit with a sledgehammer. I gasped, the air driven from my lungs.

A guttural, inhuman roar tore from my throat. Spinning around, I saw two more attackers charging down the hall. I leapt, covering eight yards in a single bound, and collided with them. The spines on my thigh and shin pierced one man’s chest, while the elbow spines ripped into the other’s leg, slicing an artery.

Blood sprayed everywhere, and I knew these men wouldn’t survive long. A part of me recoiled at the thought of killing them, but I had no choice. They wanted me dead—and Lowen too. And maybe Damien. That, I couldn’t allow.

One thing kept bugging me—where were the other guards? Had Lowen’s security team been wiped out? What about Mr. Ragu’s bodyguards? Where were the bodies?

But for now, the most important thing was getting to Damien.

I grabbed the weapons dropped by the attackers and hurled them far into the conference room, well out of reach. Blue Lowen was still curled up near the wall by the exit, staring at me through the dusty air, his eyes wide. Surely, he had never seen a real monster standing right in front of him.

I walked closer to him and said, "Don’t get too close to me, or you’ll get hurt. I have to get to the next room. Four attackers are down, and they’re unarmed, but it’s still not safe here. I’m sorry I can’t stay to protect you, but he’s the priority for me, please understand it."

Lowen stared at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.

"I’m going with you," he said. "I’m not staying here. No way."

"Your call, but if you’re in the hallway, you’ll be a sitting duck for anyone who shows up with a gun."

"I’ll take that risk."

I shrugged. "Then let’s go."

Without waiting for a response, I turned and headed for Damien’s room. A heavy metal beam had fallen across the entrance, blocking the door. Grabbing hold of it, I yanked, causing more debris, metal pieces, and plastic panels to rain down from the ceiling. Cables dangled ominously as Lowen flinched and pressed himself against the wall.

Gritting my teeth, I heaved at the beam again. The effort was immense, and several ceiling panels dropped onto my head, but finally, I managed to shove it aside with a roar. I didn’t have time to fumble for a key, so I kicked the door open with all my strength.

The room beyond was thick with dust. The walls looked warped and deformed, likely made of flimsy plastic panels that had bent from the force of the blast.

"Damien!" I shouted.

My heart clenched with fear, but my hearing saved me from panic—I caught the sound of a rapid heartbeat. Damien was alive! He was curled up under a desk, but sprang to his feet as soon as he saw me, running in my direction. Relief hit me like a tidal wave.

"Stop!" I yelled. "Don’t get too close—my spines might hurt you."

He halted just a step away, staring at me with wide eyes. I could only imagine how I looked to him: a beast covered in sharp spikes along my neck and limbs; hands, arms, and legs. Even my face wasn’t remotely human anymore. The protective bone plates above my eyes had slid down, leaving only narrow slits for vision. I must’ve been unrecognizable.

The CEO of Malden Pharmaceuticals had also followed me into the room—staying in the hallway apparently wasn’t an attractive option.

"Damien?!" he blurted out.

Well, I could imagine his shock; seeing his nephew here must have been quite an unexpected sight.

My beautiful omega bit his lip and shrugged his shoulders. "Hello, Uncle Blue. Nice seeing you… Yeah. I’m here with Storm. I’m in my… heat."

Lowen didn’t answer; he adjusted his slightly skewed electronic glasses and just stared at his relative with raised eyebrows. Damien turned toward me, coughing slightly due to the ever-present dust.

"What happened? Are you hurt? I see blood on your stomach," he finally managed to ask.

"I’m fine. The bone plates under my skin absorbed the hits—it’s just surface scratches. I’ll heal in no time."

"That explosion… what was it?"

"Another assassination attempt on your uncle. But he’s alive, as you can see…" I made an awkward gesture toward Lowen. "But I can’t say the same for the others. I suggest both of you stay here while I deal with what’s left of the attackers in the hallway before they bleed out. And there could be more in the building."

Lowen stood next to us, seemingly calm, almost like this was just another day at work. But I could only guess it was his defense mechanism. He's been through so many similar situations that he's probably had to work out some survival strategies.

"Yes, they need to be able to testify. Make sure at least one of them survives." His voice was quite commanding, like that of a person accustomed to exercising authority. "I think this time we’ll catch him—before he buys out another bunch of my guards."

"Him?" I asked, but he didn’t elaborate.

After a brief but heavy silence, I repeated my plea. "Please, both stay here. Hide behind the table. I’ll be back soon."

Stepping back into the hallway, I scanned my surroundings carefully. The dust had somewhat settled, giving me a clearer view down its length. Only the attackers remained. One was trying to stand, and another was sitting up. The two more severely injured required immediate medical attention—their heartbeats were slowing.

I didn’t see any other guards. Where the hell were they? Had they all really been bribed? Lured away somehow?

Whoever Mr. Lowen's enemy was, he seemed quite powerful and determined.

Well, but that wasn’t my problem right now. I grabbed the belt of one of the men and used it as a tourniquet on his leg to stop the bleeding. The other was in worse shape—his carotid artery was damaged. I pressed down on the torn area, unsure of what else I could do.

The two conscious attackers glanced at me, their expressions unreadable beneath their masks.

"You—come here!" I barked at one of them. He didn’t move.

So, I yanked him over and dragged toward his bleeding companion. "Believe me, helping him will work in your favor. Press on that wound, or he’ll bleed out."

"Where the hell did they find a purple alpha?" the man sputtered, sounding genuinely baffled.

The other attacker, in better condition, tried to hobble away. I wasn’t about to let that happen. He limped, but I had no mercy to spare. I knocked him to the ground and landed a swift punch, knocking him out cold. Only then did I notice what fell out of his ear. It was some kind of communication system.

Were there more of them?

Returning to the conference room, I passed the body of a dead security guard. Near the table lay Lowen’s lawyer, also motionless. No signs of life there, either.

However, Mr. Ragu and Jordan were farther from the explosion’s epicenter. They were under a table and still alive. Ragu appeared to be in better shape, even conscious. Jordan was lying on his side, half his face smeared with blood, but his pulse was steady.

"Storm…" Ragu croaked. "Is Mr. Lowen alive?"

I knelt beside him. "Yeah, he’s alive. He’s in the next room. Oh, and by the way, I managed to take down four attackers who came running down the hallway—"

"You left him alone?! There may be more!"

What the fuck? Mr. Ragu could really be obnoxious. "Sorry, but I can’t be in two places at once! I wanted to check on you! "

After a deep breath, he seemed to come to his senses. "They were shooting! Are you hurt?"

"They didn’t get through my bone plates. I’m fine. My regeneration’s pretty fast."

"For fuck’s sake, you really are an alien."

"And one you’ll hire."

Ragu snickered, but then coughed. "No question about it—you’ve got the job. The important thing is that Lowen is alive."

"I’m not sure he’ll be too happy. The building wasn’t secured like he requested, and now there’s been another attack. That’s a pretty big breach of contract."

"Hey, I almost died too!" He pouted his lips. "I can’t predict everything. He’s the one who brought trouble here; why should I be punished? It was my bodyguard who saved him—his own were useless!"

I chuckled. "You don’t need to justify it to me. But I wouldn’t bet on him signing a deal with you after this. Still, isn’t it more important that you’re alive? Business is secondary."

Suddenly, a noise from the distance caught my attention.

"Some people are approaching fast!" I hissed, leaping to my feet.

"Fuck!" Ragu cursed, scrambling deeper under the damaged table.

Footsteps thundered closer, growing louder and more chaotic by the second. I rushed out of the conference room door, heart hammering in my chest. What the hell was this? Did they bring a whole SWAT team? My mind raced, half-expecting one of them to roll in with a bazooka or some other high-powered weapon. If that happened, I’d be in serious trouble.

The sheer number of them was unnerving. I darted into the room where Blue and Damien were huddled and yelled, "There are more of them—brace yourselves!"

Then, I turned to face the doorway, planting myself there like a human shield. Whatever was coming, I wanted to stop it from reaching Damien and Blue.

My adrenaline surged as shadows moved into view down the corridor. About ten of them appeared, their heavy armor glinting under the flickering lights. This wasn’t just another ragtag group—they were better equipped and clearly trained. Some kind of rescue team sent to help their colleagues?

Some of them indeed paused by their fallen comrades, checking something. But six of them pushed forward, charging straight at me.

I realized if I stayed in the doorway, they’d see Damien and Blue behind me. There was no way I was going to let that happen. Gritting my teeth, I made the split-second decision to draw their attention away.

It was going to hurt like hell. I dove into the hallway, fully exposing myself as a target. A deafening burst of gunfire erupted instantly. Bullets slammed into my chest and stomach, the force staggering me. One round grazed the side of my head, just above the temple—a searing, disorienting pain that nearly knocked me out. I staggered, blood running hot down my cheek, but I couldn’t stop.

Through the haze, my gaze flicked back toward the room behind the broken door. Damien’s eyes locked onto mine, wide with sheer panic as he saw the blood pouring from my head.

But I didn’t have time to reassure him. Another volley of bullets tore into me, the impacts nearly toppling me. My body screamed in pain, but I clenched my jaw, got my shit together, and prepared to charge. If I didn’t act now, we were done for.

I leaned forward, coiling myself in preparation for a leap, ready to launch myself into their formation—and then something extraordinary happened.

A blinding light burst from the center of the room behind me, so bright it seared through my vision. I froze mid-step, stunned, as a massive sphere of electrical energy expanded outward, crackling and humming with raw power. The bubble surged through the corridor, engulfing everything in its path.

The attackers never stood a chance.

They were thrown off their feet, weapons clattering to the ground as the discharge rolled over them like a tidal wave. Even I staggered, the force pushing me back a step.

In shock, I turned toward the source of the explosion. Damien stood at the center of the bubble, arms outstretched and eyes closed, long arcs of electricity radiating from his chest like living tendrils.

Blue lay crumpled on the floor nearby, unconscious but otherwise unharmed.

The attackers shared his fate. They were all sprawled out on the ground, motionless.

The lights throughout the building flickered, and darkness fell. My night vision, however, allowed me to see what was happening.

I stared at Damien, my heart pounding with disbelief. Slowly, he opened his eyes, their sapphire glow shimmering faintly in the dim light.

And then he smiled. I couldn’t help but grin back.

"And now we have an answer," I said, still grinning. "No man can be YOUR equal! You just knocked down the whole quasi-SWAT team!"

Damien winked.

Just as relief washed over me, a new sound filled the air—the distant wail of sirens.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath. "The cops."

He cursed too and groaned, "This could take hours, and my heat…"

He was right. This whole mess could seriously disrupt our plans. My eyes landed on Blue Lowen.

"Maybe Blue can help us? He can vouch for us or something? They might let us go… Is he going to be all right?"

Damien knelt beside his uncle, checking his pulse. "Yeah. Everyone’s just knocked out. They’ll wake up soon, unless one of them has a pacemaker—but I doubt it. Guys like that wouldn’t be part of an assault unit."

"Wait—Mr. Ragu mentioned heart problems! We should check on him."

We hurried back to the destroyed conference room, leaving Blue still unconscious on the floor, but it was safe to say that there was no more danger.

The boss of Fate’s Choice lay unconscious, just like the others.

Damien dropped to his knees beside him, shaking the man lightly. When that didn’t work, he shook him harder, but Ragu didn’t stir.

"Try zapping him a little," I suggested with a grim smirk.

Damien let out a short laugh and did exactly that. A small jolt, and Mr. Ragu jerked violently, his eyes flying open.

"What the hell?!" he groaned.

His gaze darted to me, and his eyes widened even more.

"You’re covered in blood…"

"They’re just grazes—bullet wounds. I’ll heal. But we have a problem," I said, nodding toward Damien.

"I’m in heat," Damien muttered, his cheeks coloring slightly. "I need to get out of here. And the police are coming."

"That could mean hours of interrogations," I added.

"Relax," Ragu said, sitting up with a wince. "They’ll understand. You can probably give your statement later, but they’re definitely going to want to talk to you. You’ve done a hell of a job here."

"I only did half the job. Damien took care of the rest," I said, glancing at my perfect omega.

Damien flushed deeper. "We were a team!"

Ragu stared at him in shock. "That electric thing that hit us… was that you?"

Damien nodded hesitantly. "Are you a rose omega?"

"Hey!" I interjected sharply. "That’s not exactly a tactful question!"

It was rude to ask something like that, especially since rose omegas weren’t as instantly recognizable as purple alphas. Prying into their private traits was considered highly inappropriate.

"Sorry," Ragu muttered, rolling his eyes. "Just curious."

I gave him a long look. He didn’t seem seriously injured, but I asked anyway. "How are you feeling? The blast from the bomb wasn’t exactly gentle."

Ragu exhaled heavily. "Like I got hit by a train. Luckily, when I saw you running, I dove under the table. Jordan followed right after me."

We all looked at the lawyer. Damien zapped Jordan as well, and the guy groaned before almost immediately letting out an ugly curse.

Mr. Ragu snorted. "Well, and the others… let’s just say they didn’t trust the purple alpha." He gestured toward Lowen’s lawyer and the dead guard nearby.

"That’s on them," I said grimly. "But tell me—who’s trying to kill Lowen? This wasn’t just a random hit. A full-on attack like this? They were prepared. There must be serious leaks among Lowen's people. And those bodyguards who conveniently disappeared? They had to be in on it."

"Yeah, those fuckers," Ragu spat. "They’ll pay for it. I’ll sue them into oblivion and make sure they rot in prison. As for Lowen’s enemies…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "I’ve heard it’s the local mafia. This’ll be all over the papers tomorrow."

Then, unexpectedly, Jordan groaned and hissed, "I read about Lowen’s trouble with assassination attempts before we set up a meeting with him. Supposedly, the capo of the local mafia is a big enemy of the Malden company. Anzo Ferro. The guy’s a legit psychopath. He’s a deeply insecure beta, obsessed with this Beta Empowerment ideology. He takes it as a personal insult whenever someone brings up the Beta Activation program. Suggesting that betas should be ‘changed’ in any way? That’s like declaring war on him."

Damien nodded and muttered quietly to me, "Yeah, I heard that from my uncle too."

Ragu snorted grimly. "That program’s set to launch this month. Beta activists are losing their minds. And if this guy’s as sick as they say, yeah, I could see him pulling off something this insane. Ideologically motivated people are always the craziest." He shook his head in disapproval. "But anyway… now our collaboration with Blue Lowen is going public—the last thing he wanted. I need to call Jun ASAP. This whole thing is a disaster. A catastrophe! It was supposed to be discreet, not turn into this… mayhem!"

Then we heard voices in the corridor—police, loud and authoritative. Damien shot me a panicked look.

"It’s going to start soon, Storm. The next wave," he whispered, almost ashamed. "The police will be here any second. It’s going to be chaos."

"There’s another room that’s still intact," I said, remembering the second lounge room.

Damien’s hand grasped mine as if seeking reassurance, and at that exact moment, I felt my spikes retract. It was also a good time to grab my clothes, abandoned in the corner of the room, as his touch had a certain effect on me.

My eyes flicked to Ragu, and I let out a huff. "I came here with Damien as a favor to you. You promised us accommodations in case of a wave. We need your help."

Ragu coughed, trying to sound more confident than he looked. "Well, that was before the whole floor exploded, but I’ll do my best. When they come, I’ll ask them to let you move to the other room. But, uh… I’d recommend using the bathroom first." His gaze dropped pointedly to the blood splattered across me.

"They’re here," I murmured, hearing the heavy stomp of boots drawing closer.

Damien cursed softly under his breath, his cheeks reddening deeply. I understood perfectly—being exposed like this wasn’t ideal, but there was no time to fix it…

We were surrounded by police a few seconds later.

***

The next half hour was pure insanity.

The police were hostile and didn’t seem inclined to let either of us leave, no matter how much I insisted we weren’t involved. I explained we were here at Mr. Ragu’s request and didn’t know the details of what had gone down.

Meanwhile, Damien huddled in a corner, fighting off the effects of his heat wave. His scent filled the air, putting some of the officers visibly on edge. I felt awful for making him endure this.

Fortunately, Blue Lowen came through as soon as he regained consciousness. One call to someone on the city council, and things finally started moving. The lead officer took the call, and after a tense conversation, they begrudgingly allowed us to leave.

We made a quick stop in the guest bathroom to rinse off the blood, then moved to the second room, locking the door behind us.

Damien was flushed and breathing hard, the heat wave fully taking hold.

"Crazy, crazy day," he muttered, laying paper towels over the sofa.

I draped my suit over a chair. As I did, Damien's eyes drifted to my chest. "The wounds," he murmured. "We should clean them. Could we ask them for some disinfectant?"

I looked down. A dozen or so dark purple bruises were spread across my chest, near my solar plexus and collarbones, each with a bloody puncture mark in the center.

"There's no need, they're closing up already. I regenerate quickly, so the wounds don’t even have time to get infected."

Damien approached me, his face full of concern. His delicate fingers brushed over one of the wounds, barely grazing the skin.

"Does it hurt?" His dark graphite-and-sapphire eyes lifted to mine.

"Not much," I said softly. "I can handle it." I placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and Damien trembled at the touch. Like I’d cast a spell, he leaned forward, resting his forehead against my chest near the injuries.

"Are you tired? After such an adrenaline rush?"

"Not really, the rut helps to nullify the exhaustion."

"No regular alpha would survive this," he whispered. "They would be dead on the spot."

"I told you—I’m pretty hard to kill."

"Is it painful when the bone plates shift under your skin?"

"A bit," I admitted with a faint smile. "But it happens quickly, like an explosion. The pain doesn’t last long."

"I can't help but be amazed at how those bones can take it. I mean… the bullets are fast, and the points are sharp."

"Well, they aren’t like regular human bones, as you surely know. Neither are yours, by the way. They’re made of dense mineral prisms and collagen fibrils. Very tough, very resilient."

"We really are different, aren’t we?"

"We are." I paused, letting my gaze soften. "I’m glad you weren’t scared when you saw me like that—in my… monster form."

Damien tilted his head up, meeting my eyes. "No. Not in the slightest. And… you're not a monster on the inside. That's the only thing that matters."

For a moment, we just stared at each other. Then my gaze dropped to his mouth, naturally pouty in its soft curve. Slowly, I let my finger brush against his lower lip.

"You're such an electrifying, cute little omega," I murmured, smirking.

"Are you gonna stick your dick in this electrifying omega?" Damien asked playfully.

"Wow, straight to the point! You bet I will. Let's put this…um… plug into the electrical outlet."

The cringy talk was back in full force, but Damien loved it, and not only that…

***

An hour later, when the wave was finally under control, Damien and I left the room.

Unfortunately, the police were still on-site, securing the crime scene. There was also a team collecting—probably—explosive residue samples, at least that’s what I guessed they were doing. They wore specialized suits and were combing through the rubble in the corner of the conference room.

Mr. Ragu was still there, sitting on a stretcher and talking to an officer while a medic tended to his scratches. Thankfully, they weren’t too many or too serious.

In the background, I spotted Jun Ragu discussing something with one of the officers.

Jordan was nowhere to be seen, but Blue Lowen was still present, his pale sapphire eyes locking onto us as we approached.

"How’s it going, Uncle?" Damien asked.

"How do you think?" Blue replied with a sigh. "The whole team that attacked us has been apprehended. Thankfully, Detective Arnold is on the case now. We might have something solid to work with. During the previous attacks, the perpetrators always slipped away—it was all done very professionally and very… remotely," he added with a tinge of bitterness.

"But surely there were leads—some evidence pointing to the Ferro family?" Damien pressed.

"There were," Blue admitted, "but the police were dragging their feet, collecting evidence too slowly. This time, though, they have witnesses. Those guys will definitely talk. Not all of them are mafia soldiers—some will want to save their own skins by throwing the others under the bus."

"Why’d they choose this place?" Damien glanced around.

I snorted in amusement. "Even I can answer that. Mr. Ragu underestimated the seriousness of the situation, thinking that since the meeting was secret, the secrecy alone would be enough to keep them safe. I warned him it could be an assassination attempt, but he shrugged it off, thinking the worst that could happen was sabotage aimed at his business."

Blue grimaced bitterly. "Well, once again, I’ve learned the hard way that I can’t trust anyone in my security detail. Evidently, my bodyguards were bought off too. No one knew about this meeting—I didn’t inform anyone. I arranged everything directly with Mr. Ragu, but clearly, some of them got an offer… they couldn’t refuse."

He waved his hand dismissively, the bitterness still saturating his tone. "Sooner or later, they’ll get me anyway."

"Maybe not," Damien said softly, his voice full of empathy. "If this detective of yours has solid evidence, the police could raid that mafia boss’s headquarters and finally arrest him. The charges would be pretty sound!"

Blue still looked unconvinced. "Maybe. But when it comes to this mafia family, their leadership is so spread out. Anzo’s nephews all have their own operations. Even if you cut off one head of the organization, the others won’t go down so easily."

"Then you need better security," I said, spreading my hands.

Blue let out a dry laugh. "Volunteering? A purple alpha like you might actually get the job done."

"Sorry, not my line of work," I said with a smirk, coughing meaningfully. "I'm in the business of finding True Mates."

Blue made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. "Good luck with that. I’ve been in the business of True Mate hunting for years, and it’s not as easy as you think. There are no clear genetic markers."

I grinned triumphantly. "I'm not talking about genetics, but about intuition."

Blue gave me a look I couldn’t quite decipher—disbelief, irritation, or maybe even amusement.

"That’d have to be real magic to pull something like that off," he said in a tone that tried to sound diplomatic but didn’t quite hit the mark.

"Sometimes, I even manage it on the spot," I shot back, my gaze boring into his.

The number of skeptics I dealt with on a daily basis was getting a bit old.

Damien glanced at me, curious, as if he wasn’t sure what I was getting at.

"You trying to tell me something?" Blue raised an eyebrow.

"All I’m saying," I replied, "is that you might want to show up at the next open fair hosted by Fate’s Choice in two weeks."

"I don’t attend events like that. And I’m not looking for my TM. I’m a skeptic about the whole concept. Relationships aren’t everything. There are plenty of other fulfilling things in life," Blue said, his tone haughty.

I gave him a pointed look. It sounded like he was trying to rationalize his situation, but that wasn’t my business.

"Well, suit yourself. But I’ll just say this—you might find someone there who could also help you with your security issues."

I froze for a moment, blinking. Where had that come from? It felt like I’d been in a trance.

Blue and Damien both stared at me, as though I’d suddenly started speaking another language.

"Right. Well, I think it’s time for us to go," I said quickly, attempting to smooth things over. "Of course, we’ll show up for questioning at the scheduled time."

Blue adjusted his glasses. "Most of what happened is already recorded. Thankfully, that electrical surge didn’t fry the circuits in my glasses. Everything is uploaded to the cloud, and the police will have access to it."

"You were recording all this?" I asked.

"Of course. I record everything around me—it’s just common sense when you’ve survived over a dozen assassination attempts." And he winced.

"Fair enough," I muttered, suddenly feeling like my life was a breeze compared to his.

"I hope you catch that mafia boss," Damien added sympathetically.

"Me too," Blue said with a sigh. "Detective Arnold is new, but he’s thorough—unlike the others, who I suspect were bought off. He’s digging in hard, so maybe we’ll finally see some results."

"I wish you luck, Uncle. We’ll be on our way now."

"Thank you," Blue said with a faint smile. "I’m sorry my problems dragged you into this, but I appreciate your help. You’ll see soon enough—I know how to show my gratitude."

Whatever that meant.

***

Later, Damien and I headed to the parking lot and climbed into my car.

We talked briefly about the whole situation, but I could see he was exhausted. That got me thinking—his heat might be tapering off. Omegas often grew sluggish during the final phase.

At home, we ate a hearty dinner before settling in front of the computer to watch a live broadcast from Fate’s Choice headquarters.

Various people—likely low-level employees—were giving statements. Mr. Ragu appeared with his husband, Jun, a few bandages on his face, and made an official statement on behalf of the company, assuring everyone that everything was fine —better than fine , even. The journalist asked him about Blue Lowen, but Ragu skillfully dodged every question.

He repeatedly emphasized that the attack had nothing to do with his business, making sure that message came across loud and clear. I think he mentioned it at least five times.

Eventually, we’d had enough of the talking heads on screen and went to bed.

After making love, I spent a while holding him in my arms, gently stroking his back. I allowed myself this moment of intimacy, though perhaps I shouldn’t have pushed it because I sensed some growing confusion from him.

That evening, the breaks between our sessions were much longer. It wasn't until 8 pm that another wave came, and when we went to sleep, it wasn't until about 3 am that I felt his movements again and plunged into him. After that, it was quiet and we slept peacefully until morning.

I woke up at 7 am, knowing we had to leave by 8 am at the latest to reach the town where Star lived by noon. When I sat up and touched his arm, Damien turned to me, and I realized he wasn’t asleep! He looked awful—pale, with restless eyes.

"Damien, what’s wrong?" I asked.

He replied in a gloomy tone, "My heat is over. I don’t need to go with you today for those client visits."

Silence fell, and I have to admit, I was stunned it had ended so abruptly. Could yesterday’s situation have sped it up even more? Even though we came out of it physically unscathed, we’d both been under a lot of stress.

"How do you know? Are you sure?"

"Yes. I feel like I’m having a depressive episode."

I knew exactly what he meant—my ex used to feel the same way after every heat.

"What about the dryness… there? It's a telltale sign that the heat is coming to an end."

"Yes, I have that too."

There was a long pause. I didn’t know what to say. I felt… deeply disappointed, though I couldn’t explain why. Was this really it? The end of this wonderful time together that I’d enjoyed so much?

Finally, I managed to say, "Stress shortened it. You’ve had a lot of it lately."

"Yeah." He stared at the ceiling, his cheeks pale. Did he regret it too?

I bit my lip and stayed quiet, thinking. Damien still wouldn’t look at me.

"The next few hours won’t be easy," I started, "you’ll feel down and tired. I should be here with you—"

But he cut me off immediately. "You don’t have to. I know you’ve got work to do, and it’s urgent. It can’t wait."

"But—"

"Go. I’m not in any shape to travel right now. My head would explode—"

"Damien—"

"I’m serious. Go! Time’s ticking, and you’ll be late for the meeting with Star. Who knows how bad traffic is—you need a time buffer."

I nodded slowly, feeling foolish. We needed to sit down and talk, but because of this trip, I just didn’t have the time for a proper conversation.

The worst part was not knowing how long I could be gone. It was a new development that felt unsettling—suddenly, I found myself without a Plan B. Before, I’d hoped we’d spend more time together on the trip, growing… closer. That was no longer an option.

"Damien, it really sucks leaving you alone like this. Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?"

"Yeah. I’ll probably sleep through most of it anyway."

He looked away again, stubbornly avoiding my gaze. Something was wrong.

Since I was still sitting next to him, he sighed impatiently. "You really should go already. I want to get back to sleep," he murmured, turning onto his side. I felt even more stupid.

I didn’t want to push him or force a conversation right now. Especially since he was right—I had no idea what the roadwork situation was like on the way to Star’s town. I had to get going.

So, I got up and reluctantly went to the bathroom, washed up and changed into my street clothes.

When I peeked into the bedroom, he was lying on his side with his eyes closed. But I knew he wasn’t asleep.

"Damien—" I started, but he interrupted me again.

"Just go already, okay? There’s no need to drag this out."

That didn’t sound right. I clenched my lips. I wanted so badly to say more—to explain, to promise—but my mind was swirling. I couldn’t figure out what to say.

"Take care. I’ll be back this evening…"

And then he said it, "You don’t have to. The heat’s over. Your job’s done. Thanks for everything—we’re done here. Tomorrow, I have to get back to class. My life will go back to normal."

Wow…

I felt like I’d been hit over the head. So that’s how he saw it? This was just over? Was I right before, not bringing up a relationship between us because he wasn’t interested after all?

Or… was that heat recovery talking through him?

Damien pulled the covers tighter around himself, clearly signaling that he didn’t want me there or to discuss it further. I felt like an intruder.

But I knew I couldn’t just leave without saying anything—just walk off in silence. I hated the childish miscommunications I’d often had with Tom, so I said firmly, "Damien, I told you I keep my promises. I will be back so we can talk."

He stayed silent, so I could only hope my words were enough reassurance for him.

In a daze, I grabbed my things and left his apartment, feeling bad. My stomach tightened as if I had just drunk vodka—it was nauseous and heavy.

If it weren’t for this damn trip, I would’ve stayed and tried to talk to him—but time was running out.

Gritting my teeth, I made my way to the car, started the engine, and joined the traffic.

As I drove, a bitter throbbing pounded in my head, and a crushing pain weighed down my chest.

Was he afraid of my rejection and preferred to reject me first? I knew that tactic from my past—I’d used it myself many, many times.

Sure, I knew before that he didn't want someone who worked for a company like Dark Dreams, but that wasn't an issue anymore. Had I already tainted myself forever in his eyes? He'd made it clear before—a person with such a controversial job wasn't boyfriend material.

Boyfriend… that word.

That’s exactly what I wanted to be for him. And even more.

We didn’t know each other well yet, but what drew me to him was so powerful it didn’t matter—I believed with all my heart that we could make it work.

***

The drive to Star’s town felt like a hazy nightmare. I barely remembered anything except the road signs and numbers. I turned on the GPS and let it guide me, stopping only once for coffee, hoping it would clear my head. It didn’t.

When I finally arrived, Star’s place turned out to be a tiny studio apartment in a modest condominium. I wasn’t ready for this conversation—not in my state of mind. I felt like I was failing at everything; with Damien, with my commitment to Fate's Choice clients, with my life in general…

When I knocked, the door opened, and a rather tall omega greeted me.

He looked different from his photo, where he’d been wearing makeup, but his beauty was still striking. His smooth, pearl-like skin and full pink lips stood out, and even without makeup, his dark, thick lashes framed his eyes. Objectively, he was very attractive—but he wasn’t Damien. His blond hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, and he wore a plain gray sweatshirt.

Star didn’t look like the stereotypical sex worker; his energy felt more ‘office clerk’ than someone involved in the entertainment industry. But I remembered from his personal info in the database that he'd quit the strip club a year ago and was now working as a phone consultant from home. His outfit made sense.

What struck me most was his expression—it was completely still, almost mask-like. His eyes seemed nearly black, boring sharply into my face. "Storm Nolan," I introduced myself, shaking his hand. His grip was faint, his hand dry and stiff, like wood. With that kind of attitude, could he even attract a client? Or had something changed him?

Without a word, he stepped back, letting me into the room, which served as both his bedroom and living room, with only a small kitchenette off to the side. "So, what brings you here, Mr. Nolan?" he asked sternly, his expression indifferent.

Star's eyes were somewhat disturbing—completely motionless, like a shark's. Up close, I could see they were a dark navy blue, not black as it could seem. They reminded me of a starry, polar night, and they sent a shiver down my spine.

People froze to death under such a sky, right? Many times!

"Yes, well…" I swallowed, feeling like I shouldn’t be here. I should be with Damien, holding him in my arms and helping him through his recovery.

It was awful, like I had post-heat recovery depression myself, even though it didn’t affect alphas. Some felt physically tired from the hormone flood, but mood swings weren’t typical.

"To be honest, I came here to have a conversation with you about additional options for finding you a perfect partner, but I—" I paused, clearing my throat once, then again. Fuck. This was bad. "I’m in a difficult situation, so forgive me if I come across as unprepared. I had to leave my partner in recovery, and I’m really struggling…" I blurted out with unnecessary honesty, looking away.

Yep. I was behaving like an idiot—totally unprofessional. He couldn’t care less about what was happening to me. But I just couldn’t stop thinking about Damien! I wanted to break free, run out of the apartment, and rush back to my little redheaded omega… My ball of cuteness!

Star stayed silent, his eyes as still as a statue’s. He didn’t even blink. Of course. I shouldn’t have expected any sympathy from him.

I shook myself out of that miserable state. "I apologize for this. It’s not your concern. Please forgive me. I’ll get to the matter I came here to discuss so you can make a decision."

"I hope it’s a good proposition because, for the past six months, I haven’t received a single pairing from you guys," he said, his tone consistently cold, completely ignoring my earlier emotional outburst and my embarrassing confession.

I blinked nervously because he was absolutely right. "I apologize for that too. I wasn’t employed at the company back then, but now I’m here, and I have a plan that includes you—"

"Go on then. I hope it’s a really good plan," he said crudely.

For a moment, I wondered how someone with such unapproachable mannerisms could work in any kind of service—whether as a consultant or an escort. Then again, maybe he played a completely different person in those roles, putting on a fake persona for clients. Was he living some kind of… double life?

Well, he wouldn’t tempt me, that was for sure. Despite his striking looks, he wasn’t my type. I preferred petite redheads—chubby ones with rose-shaped birthmarks!

"On Saturday, the fair begins—"

"No."

Hearing his sharp tone, I froze. "But you don’t even know what I’m going to say."

"I refuse to participate in any auction, fair, or expo—whatever you want to call it. I made it clear during my first meeting with your company. No shows. I’m not a horse or cattle to be sold."

He definitely viewed these events in a very old-fashioned way. I stared at him for a moment. Why did I even bother coming here? What a waste of time.

So, I glanced out the window at the neighboring building. Its gray wall loomed close, dull and uninteresting. Mindlessly, I stared at it… and my mind went blank.

Damien… I wanted to see him. I needed to see him.

The silence stretched on. Star didn’t move, his sharp eyes fixed on my face, waiting.

"Unfortunately, this is the only proposal we have at the moment," I barely pushed it out, lowering my gaze.

"Then get ready to pay a fine. Not only have I not received a single pairing, but now you’re trying to force me to participate in an open fair when I specifically stated I didn’t want that."

With clenched eyelids, I managed to blurt out, "There’s also a general company policy you accepted, separate from the contract you signed. It includes a clause stating that if we can’t find another pairing, the last resort is an open auction combined with a fair."

I pulled out my tablet and showed him the policy in question on the screen.

Star’s lips twitched slightly in a grimace of anger and irritation. His mask wasn’t indestructible, after all.

"So my signature means nothing?"

"The signature is on the main contract. You first filled out the form on our website, where you selected the option not to participate in an open auction or fair. But the form wasn’t legally binding—it was just a questionnaire to gather preferences. When you created your profile, you accepted our general terms of use, which include this clause." I pointed to the paragraph in question. "It applies in situations where a pairing doesn’t work out," I explained robotically, the words barely making it past my lips. I knew how unfair it sounded, forcing him into this no-choice situation.

"Even in the main signed contract, there’s a paragraph explaining that every client must have a valid profile on our site—even if it’s publicly hidden, as in your case. And to create that profile, accepting the general policy is mandatory."

Star sighed angrily. It was the only time I saw any stronger emotion on his face, though even then, it barely cracked his icy mask.

"It’s really audacious of you to pressure me into a no-deny situation! Is this some example of fine print trickery? Deceiving customers into signing unfair contracts?"

I sighed. "At this point, there’s not much I can about it. You need to participate in the fair to fulfill your obligations. However, if you still can’t find a pairing there, your obligations to our company will end, and you’ll be entitled to compensation. If you don’t show up, the company could appeal, and then you’d get nothing."

I could see he wasn’t convinced, but he glanced down at the tablet screen, then back at me.

"Alright. I’ll go to that damn fair! But I assure you, I’ll leave your company the worst reviews imaginable. If you had issues with accepting my preferences, you should’ve told me instead of luring me in with promises of great pairings!"

I felt foolish because, first of all, he was absolutely right. Second, I wasn’t the one who made those promises. Mr. Ragu had really gone overboard with his sales pitch.

"Please… accept my apologies," I stammered. "I’ve only been working on your case for three days. I was just put in charge of these matters. I’m sorry you were treated this way, but I had no say in how the contract was written."

"Yeah, I’m in customer service myself, so I get it. It’s not your fault. But unfortunately, the people who work in these types of services have to deal with all the complaints. It’s just part of the gig. Still, the company really fucked me over. I was promised plenty of pairings to choose from, but I haven’t seen a single one in almost six months. And now this? Humiliation is exactly what I wanted to avoid."

I felt for the guy. The company had truly let him down. But I promised myself to do everything in my power to find him his perfect mate.

"I’m sorry about that. Fate’s Choice ran those crazy promo ad campaigns back then. Not to make excuses, but you know how it is with young companies—they tend to be overly optimistic."

Star clenched his jaw and stood up, signaling the end of the meeting.

"We’re done here. You should be with your omega instead of running around meeting clients. Some people don’t have anyone waiting for them at home, you know," he said, his tone vaguely hostile, but his words hit me hard.

"Ain’t that the truth," I murmured, nodding as I gathered my things. "I’m sorry again for how this turned out."

As I headed for the door, Star followed.

Before leaving, I paused for a moment. What he said about ‘someone waiting at home’ lingered in my mind, exposing a glimpse of his deepest wish and vulnerability. Even if he presented himself as a literal frozen icicle, I was certain there was more to him.

So, I added, "Best of luck at the fair, Star. I’ve got a good feeling about it. My intuition is usually spot on—I think you’ll find someone special there. Trust me, it has worked before. Please, keep your hopes up."

His eyes, before appearing so aloof, seemed different up close as we stood in the narrow hallway. They weren’t hostile anymore, but rather… simply guarded.

My well-wishes were genuine, I wholeheartedly wanted him to find someone who could appreciate his beauty and look beyond his past.

Star glanced away and gave a slow nod. "Alright, I’ll be there."

"I’ll be there too, keeping an eye out for potential matches and sending them your way," I said, shifting to a more professional tone.

He snorted softly and swung the door open. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Leaving his apartment, I felt even worse than when I’d arrived. Sure, I’d managed to sway him—or, more accurately, coerce him—but at what cost? Let’s face it: I’d cornered the guy without making any genuine effort to persuade him more amicably. My mind just wasn’t focused on the job.

But I hoped that my redeeming act would be to find him his match, and… I had a strong hunch about who his True Mate might be.

Sadly, there was a catch—I wasn’t sure this person would even agree to come. The reasons were complicated, and just thinking about it made my headache worse. The pressure to fulfill my obligations was piling up.

Plus, I still had two more meetings lined up, and I’d have to approach them in the same way, but… I felt mentally drained already. Glancing at my watch, I realized I had three hours to spare before my next appointment. Maybe I could visit Damien, even for a few minutes? Hope surged in my chest as I got into the car and hit the road.

Unfortunately, an hour and a half later, I found myself stuck in a massive traffic jam caused by an accident. Only one lane was open, and cars crawled at a snail's pace. I cursed under my breath as frustration bubbled over.

By the time I finally made it into the city, I realized I didn’t have enough time to visit Damien. I had to head to my next appointment with Darien Ferro instead.

Darien lived in an elegant villa on the upscale outskirts of the city. The house was pure luxury, which again made me wonder why he was looking for a new husband through, let’s face it, a mediocre matchmaking agency. With a fortune inherited from his late ex-mobster husband, he seemed set for life.

I pressed the intercom on the high wall surrounding the property, and he buzzed me in immediately.

The pathway leading to the house was lined with perfectly round white stones. Through the large glass doors, I entered a space that could only be described as a modernist dream.

And then I saw him.

Darien was nothing like Star, who was tall and fit. Darien was very short and almost frail, with long black hair tied back in a thick ponytail. His stunning face was as striking as Star’s but in a different way. His large, bright green eyes and sweetly contoured lips gave him an almost ethereal look. Despite his age, his beauty was intact, untouched by enhancements. The only thing that dulled his radiance was his pale complexion and the dark circles under his eyes, which hinted at sleepless nights.

"Good morning, I’m an employee of Fate’s Choice—"

"Yes, yes, please come in," he said, gesturing toward his spacious living room.

The place was breathtaking: leather-upholstered furniture, sleek metal and glass surfaces, and enormous modernist paintings on the walls. Through the glass windows, I caught a glimpse of a beautifully landscaped garden beyond the terrace.

I hesitated before sitting down, introduced myself, and launched into my explanation with my tablet in hand.

But mentally, I wasn’t fully present. My thoughts kept stubbornly drifting to Damien. I wanted—no, needed—to get back to him as soon as possible.

The whole time, Darien’s big green eyes stayed locked on me, drawing my attention back. Focus, Storm, focus! I scolded myself.

This omega was indeed stunningly attractive—so much so that I might have been interested if not for the fact that he wasn’t Damien. Darien didn’t have those amaranth-red curls, the sweet round cheeks, the soft love handles… nor did he smell like my perfect omega. I took a deep breath to calm the ache of longing threatening to overwhelm me.

Pushing those thoughts aside, I continued, "Sir, I’m sorry that none of the pairings have worked out so far. I know we promised you better matches, but this time we have a rather unusual offer. It will allow you to apply for compensation if nothing comes of it…"

His green eyes studied my face intently, but my diplomatic phrasing seemed to land well.

"I admit, I’m quite selective," he said, spreading his hands in an apologetic gesture. "But I have the luxury of being so. Nothing is pressing me to find a partner except the longing in my heart. I hope to meet someone I’ll truly love, as strange as it sounds, I’ve never had that in my life."

"Oh," I murmured, feigning interest even though I already knew his story. His late ex-mobster husband had purchased his contract when Darien was just eighteen—a sixty-year-old billionaire and this gorgeous young omega. What a travesty. It wasn’t hard to guess that romance had been absent from their arrangement.

"Water? Something to drink?" he asked in his melodious voice.

"Uhm, water, thank you," I muttered as he poured me a glass out of a crystal bottle.

"So," he continued, "what’s this unusual offer?"

Clearing my throat, I glanced at the table. "This Saturday, Fate’s Choice is holding an open fair. I know you didn’t want to participate in something like that, but—"

"I agree."

Wow. I froze. I wasn’t expecting that.

"Wait. You agree?"

"I do."

"But on the form you filled out, you specifically said you didn’t want the auction or the open fair."

Darien smirked. "No, actually, I never did. Or if it was marked, it might’ve been by mistake. I actually have my reasons for wanting to be there."

"It’s not really my business, but… can I ask what those reasons are?" I reached for a glass, feeling my throat dry as sawdust.

He hesitated, glancing to the side with a strange expression.

"Well, let’s just say I’m hoping to meet someone at this fair. I tentatively believe he could be my True Mate."

I almost spat the whole sip of water from my mouth. Wow. That got my attention, for sure.

"Your True Mate?! Please, tell me what’s going on. That sounds like some serious premonition."

Was there someone else out there who could figure out a person’s True Mate?

Darien shook his head, smiling almost shyly. "Let's just say that someone who might really have a special talent told me this. Even though people would not recommend believing him, I kind of do."

"Really? That’s intriguing. Is this person, like, in the matchmaking business or something?"

I didn't say it out loud: Any competition of mine?

He chuckled quietly. "Don't worry, he's not a threat to your business. For one reason mostly, he’s no longer with us."

With my eyes widening, I asked, "Oh, so… he was some kind of fortune-teller?"

Darien laughed—it sounded like silver bells.

"Definitely not. He was a husband of my husband’s nephew. Sadly, he had… an addiction. It was the reason for his demise. But when he was in his more lucid moments, he told me something that lets me believe I should agree to attend a fair."

It sounded like some hallucinations of a heroin addict, but who was I to doubt that? Maybe it was worth at least asking a question?

"Interesting. Was he perhaps… a purple alpha or a rose omega?"

"Indeed, he was, a rose omega. A very sweet person, but deeply troubled. One day, I expressed to him that my husband’s health was deteriorating, and he said, ‘Don’t worry, you’ll find your True Mate one day.’ When I laughed, he doubled down, saying, ‘Laugh all you want, but I have this… burst of intuition. It doesn’t always work—it’s fleeting—but I saw it for you. You need to sign up with a matchmaking agency and accept when they offer you a spot at a fair.’"

"That’s… oddly specific!" I said, raising my eyebrows.

"Right? And now here you are, offering me a spot at the fair. Almost like a fairy-tale coincidence, wouldn’t you say?"

"So, you were just waiting for me?"

"He told me to be patient, that the opportunity would come, and I should grab it when it did. So this feels like that chance. A big crowd, lots of candidates… Who knows? I’m willing to give it a shot, no matter how silly it might sound to you."

I nodded, feeling a wave of relief. "I get it. And honestly, it doesn’t sound silly at all. I have to say, I’ve got a good feeling about you too."

I narrowed my eyes, a strange thought crossing my mind. Was Fate seriously aligning True Mates for three of my cousins? Crazy. But I didn’t say anything.

"I’m really glad you’re on board. It takes such a huge weight off my shoulders. I was worried you’d be against it."

Darien smiled, his expression warm and genuine.

"I would be, under normal circumstances. But honestly, what do I have to lose? It’s worth a try."

His wide smile lit up his face, and despite being almost double my age, his beauty was still breathtaking. It was almost hard to look away—though, to be fair, it was easy when all I wanted to see was a certain redhead. No one else came close.

"I’ll be there too," I said, grinning. "I’ll keep an eye out for you and cross my fingers for a True Mate candidate!"

He laughed softly and nodded, seeming more at ease. Darien definitely had a different energy than Star. He was approachable, kind, and more easygoing. He had a solid chance of finding someone who would truly love him. And who knows? Maybe I could help.

Was one phone call all it would take?

As I stood up and said goodbye to Darien, my mind was full of swirling thoughts.

What Fate had planned for me was absolutely nuts. Was it seriously lining up True Mates for so many of my family members? It seemed almost like magic, something unbelievable.

Wait.

Could someone be behind this?

Some vague, foggy memory surfaced in my mind.

I was a kid back then, maybe seven years old. Three of my brothers—Winter, Rain, and Skye—were doing what they loved most: playing their favorite game, ‘hunt the alien’.

I was running through the dense grove behind our house, trying to escape Winter and the rest. He was the oldest and the quickest, already sixteen at the time. Suddenly, I stumbled into a small clearing in the bushes and found my brother Snow sitting there on the grass. I blinked because there was this faint rainbow glow around his hands—or maybe it was just an illusion? He looked at me. Snow barely ever spoke, if at all.

"Snow, help me hide! They’re hunting me again," I panted, struggling to catch my breath. I was way heavier than a normal kid my age because of my dense bones, so sprinting was definitely not my forte.

Snow stared at me with his strange pale violet eyes, still sitting on the grass.

"Please, these jerks will be here soon enough. They’ve got a plastic BB gun! But it fucking hurts!"

Snow didn’t answer. Slowly, he just pointed to the space behind him.

I frowned. Snow was thirteen at the time and had just barely started showing alpha traits, so he wasn’t much bigger than me. As a purple alpha, I looked more like I was ten, not seven.

"I can’t hide behind you, dumbass. I’m too big!"

He just kept staring. So, with a sigh, I crouched behind his back. I couldn’t help but giggle a bit—it was a terrible hiding spot, and there was no way they wouldn’t see me. But I hoped Snow’s presence might at least save me from getting hit by too many rubber bullets.

He stayed silent, and I noticed a small butterfly perched on his hand. It was fascinating, so I stared at it for a while.

Then I heard it—sounds of people trudging through the undergrowth, the crackle of twigs and rustling of leaves. Soon enough, my three brothers showed up: Winter, Rain, and little Skye, who was barely five.

"Snow! Did you see the cosmic beast anywhere? Big, purple one! Humanity is endangered; we need to eliminate the hostile presence!" Rain yelled, quoting a popular cartoon.

"Monster hunt!" Skye giggled, raising the plastic BB gun he held.

Snow stayed silent.

"He won’t answer you, idiots. Snow doesn’t talk to muggles like us," Winter snorted.

I couldn’t believe it—they were acting like they didn’t see me! Were they pretending? I was tempted to say something, but for some reason, I didn’t.

"He’s been compromised by an alien spy, his mind infiltrated , it’s a hostile infestation! " Rain was getting heated, randomly repeating phrases from the cartoon. Then he glanced at Winter. "Should we shoot him in the head too, colonel Frost?"

"C’mon," Skye grumbled, looking bored. His eyes were fixed on the butterfly. "Let’s check by the lake and then head home. I’m hungry!"

Winter rolled his eyes. "Really, Skye? Fucking little shit. No fun with you around," he hissed, and Skye angrily threw the BB gun to the ground, where it was quickly picked up by Rain.

The three of them stomped off toward the edge of the grove—Skye sniffling, Rain shooting into the air and screaming something along the lines of, "Alien commando semper fi!"

Shocked and in disbelief, I watched them disappear into the bushes. There was no way they didn’t see me! No fucking way! I was literally crouched behind Snow’s slender back, and Winter, being the tallest, should’ve spotted me instantly! I wasn’t exactly tiny. I stood up.

"How’s that possible? Is this… magic?"

Snow tilted his head and smirked slightly but didn’t answer.

"What else can you do?"

He just shrugged, stood up, and walked away; the butterfly still perched on his hand.

After that, I pestered him about it for years, begging him to explain what kind of trick he did, but he never answered.

Except this one time…

It was years later—I was nineteen or maybe twenty, still deep in my rebel phase. I’d been messing around with my brothers’ exes, and had just learned that being a purple alpha meant I’d have trouble finding my own True Mate. Apparently, we had lower chances than normal alphas. It made me pretty bitter and spiteful, and kind of not caring about other people's feelings.

That summer, I’d come home after fucking Skye’s ex, David, for three hours straight. It was around 11 pm when I snuck into the house, only to find Snow sitting on the terrace, playing his harmonica.

Noticing a few cans of soda near him, I plopped down on the rattan sofa.

"Revenge is sweet. Truly the delight of the gods," I said.

Snow didn’t respond—of course not. He only stared at me over his instrument.

"I just fucked David! Skye’s gonna lose his shit." I chuckled, leaning back on the sofa. "David’s such a sweetie. No wonder Skye dated him all through high school." And I burst into laughter.

Pale violet eyes stayed fixed on me, and for some reason, I felt a little embarrassed. There was something in his energy that made me feel like a twisted bastard.

"What? Don’t you dare to judge me. You’re not exactly a saint yourself! They were all assholes to me. Now I’m done with the revenge thing," I said, because it wasn’t just David. I’d fucked Finn—Winter’s ex—a year earlier. Hooked up with Larry, too. Though Rain was surprisingly chill about it. I guess he was over Larry by the time I got into his pants.

Snow kept staring.

"I know what you’re thinking—that I’m the asshole now. But who cares? They’re not together anymore. I just wanted to test them. I heard if someone’s a half match for your brother, they might be a high match for you. Genetics or whatever." I grinned mockingly. It wasn’t like I really believed that.

When he didn’t respond, just stared, I rested my head on the back of the sofa and muttered, "Don’t look at me like that, you’re not better than me. Still screwing Theo?"

Snow blinked. He probably thought it was a secret, but I was a purple alpha—I heard everything.

"It’s not healthy, you know? He’s married. With kids. Are you sure you want to be that guy?"

He lowered the harmonica, and I continued mercilessly, "Theo’s hot, I’ll give you that. But c’mon, a married guy? That’s more messy than what I did."

"It’s just sex," he said, his voice quiet.

I flinched—Snow actually spoke.

"Yeah, I get that. But sex has a way of turning into more. Feelings creep in. Be careful. Don’t you want better?" I tilted my head, but since he stayed quiet, I pressed, "Aren’t you a wizard or something? I remember that invisibility trick when we were kids. Can’t you just conjure your True Mate out of thin air?" And I wiggled my eyebrows.

Snow sported that strange, mysterious smile of his. "I could."

"So why don’t you?"

"I need to learn more. Train more."

Wow, he said it. Snow was actually having a conversation with me about… magic.

"Could you bring True Mates for the rest of us too? I’d love that. Being a purple is a shitshow."

He shrugged. "Perhaps one day. When I've mastered it, my True Mate will come to this house. And you'll all meet yours. One by one."

Then he stood up.

"Wait—are you kidding?"

But Snow didn’t answer—just walked away.

He never brought it up again, and neither did I, but for some reason, the whole thing about Snow’s magic came back to me now.

If it were just talk, if that weird thing with him hiding me hadn’t happened, I’d never have believed him.

But it did happen.

He actually did some kind of strange enchantment on them. Did he finally master whatever it was he’d been training himself to do?

Why, all of a sudden, were all of us meeting our True Mates, one after another? Rain, Skye, now most likely me. Who was next? Our cousins? The rest of our brothers?

Driving back from Darien’s place, I was in a surprisingly good mood. For once, I didn’t have to twist someone’s arm to agree to the fair. No manipulative contract tricks this time—just a genuine agreement. It felt like a win.

And another thing—I was starting to feel weirdly optimistic about the whole ‘finding True Mates’ thing. Was this actually going to work for real? Was it about to happen for all of us ?

Why the hell not? I couldn’t afford to be a doubter now. I’d always hated that in other people. I chose to stay optimistic.

So I stopped at a gas station and grabbed something to eat. While I was there, I pulled out my phone and typed a quick message:

"Did you actually master that thing with ‘attracting’ True Mates to the guys in our family? Because I might’ve lined up three TMs for three of our cousins. And I still think Skye’s TM is that beta guy who broke his heart. Oh, and I’m pretty sure I found mine too. Weird how it’s all happening at once. Should I thank you? And did you find yours too?"

A few minutes passed in silence before my phone beeped.

"Possibly. My True Mate will be here in a few days. I should probably thank you for this. Something you were involved in yesterday set off a chain of events that will save one of our brothers and bring my True Mate to me. So… I guess we’re even."

I blinked, staring at the screen.

"I won’t even ask for details. I just have to trust you," I replied.

"Don’t ask. Enjoy your redhead."

I blinked again, even more shocked.

What the fuck? Was this guy a real deal wizard?

So I wasn’t the only one in our family with unusual abilities after all…

Snow might not be a purple alpha, but he was also a child of True Mate parents. Who knows? Maybe he also had a little more alien DNA than the rest of the regular alphas.

Gulping down my coffee, I headed back to my car, feeling strangely elated and even more impatient to get back to my perfect redhead.

The thought of seeing Damien again filled me with this quiet sense of excitement. What made it even better—I had just one last visit to make, and then I’d be free to go back to him.

With that thought driving me, I headed toward the surrogate’s house.

***

The drive took me about fifteen minutes—Darien’s house wasn’t that far off, and Day Sanderson also lived in a good neighborhood. He was the last one on my list—I had this ambitious plan to bring all four of them to the fair.

When I got there, I was surprised to find that this guy, at thirty-four years old, still lived in a single-family home with his parents.

The door was opened by an older alpha who eyed me suspiciously. "What?" His greeting was far from friendly.

"I have an appointment with Day Sanderson."

"And who’re you?"

"Storm Nolan. I'm a representative of the company Day works with," I said, unsure how much his parents knew. Maybe they wouldn’t approve of their son attending a marriage contract fair?

The alpha frowned and yelled, "Day, someone's here for you!"

A thin omega came down the attic stairs. Out of all three clients, this one was definitely the least attractive. He was medium-tall height, probably about 5’9". Holding a cigarette in his hand, he walked past me without inviting me inside, his expression making me feel like a hated repossession agent—and I’d met quite a few of those.

"What's the matter? You're really screwing this up, you know? I've been waiting another month for pairings, and nothing's come of it," he snapped, taking a deep drag of his cigarette.

I studied him closely. Day Sanderson looked older than his age. His complexion was unhealthy, almost grayish, and his lips were pursed in anger. He looked far worse than forty-two-year-old Darien Ferro. Small wire-frame glasses perched on his thin nose didn’t do him any favors either.

His facial features weren’t particularly striking. His overall thinness made his cheeks appear bony and sunken, and his nose sharper. The only redeeming feature was his cloudy gray eyes, framed by long eyelashes, but even they held a hostile unease. His mousy brown hair, slicked back into a tight, high knot at the nape of his neck, added to the unfriendly aura.

Day’s piercing gaze felt like steel blades cutting into me, his brows furrowed so deeply that a long vertical wrinkle creased his forehead. Honestly, it wasn’t surprising he struggled to find pairings. From what I knew, all his contracts had been related to surrogacy—never a typical marriage contract.

"We are aware that your contract is nearing its end, so we have one final proposal: participating in the open fair and auction. These events attract many interested parties, even outside our client base, so the selection is much wider…" I said in my most professional tone. Sure, it sounded scripted, but there wasn’t another way to present it.

Day narrowed his eyes. "I don't feel like sitting in a glass booth to be ogled like a showroom exhibit," he exclaimed, and I almost felt relieved. The tablet under my arm already had the open contract prepared. No need to drag this out.

"Unfortunately, for the contract to be fulfilled on our side—and for you to receive the agreed compensation—participating in one open fair is mandatory."

I knew my tone was colder and less patient than it had been with Star or Darien. But I was tired, missing Damien like crazy, feeling desperate to just finish this meeting and leave.

Day rolled his eyes, snatched the tablet, and stared at the screen.

Then he exploded, "You bastards! A bunch of sneaky fuckers, that's what you are! I told you from the start I didn’t want those damn open fairs—they’re for desperadoes!"

"Your situation is quite difficult—"

He growled angrily, his temper flaring. "It’s outrageous! You accepted my conditions, took my money, and promised miracles! Damn scammers! I only got two pairings, and one of them was with an eighty-year-old!"

"That’s why we’re trying a different approach now," I said calmly, attempting not to antagonize him further. "A fair is a good opportunity to meet someone. I know it’s not the most discreet option, but, honestly, our main service is fairs and auctions of marital contracts. The majority of pairings happen at these events, not through our matchmaking agency."

"I signed your damn form to—"

"I understand, Mr. Sanderson. But if you wanted to completely avoid this possibility, you should’ve signed up for a regular online dating service. Auction and fair houses offer a broader range of services, and in some cases, attending a fair is an obligatory part of the contract. We use every possible method, which is why we’re more efficient and why people continue to choose us. When traditional processes don’t work, fairs are often the only solution."

Day tilted his head and hissed, "You’ve got the talk down, don’t you? How long did you practice that official spiel? You call yourselves expert matchmakers, huh? To me, you sound like scammers. Efficiency? My ass! I only got two pairings—two!"

I pressed my lips together and stayed silent. He had a point.

Day furrowed his brows. "And what if I don’t find anyone there, huh?"

I was tempted to suggest he quit smoking—it made him look ten years older—but I bit my tongue.

"I’m asking you! What if the fair fails?"

"Then we’re obligated to pay a fine. That’s obvious."

That quieted him a bit. A strange, almost sinister smirk crossed his face, and I had a bad feeling he was planning to sabotage the event.

But what should I say? I couldn't predict exactly how the fair would go. Day was the only one about whom I didn’t have a clear premonition. Nothing came to mind—no match, not among my cousins, for sure. Yet, I still had this vague feeling that he should attend the fair.

I sincerely hoped he wouldn’t be the only one without a happy ending, after all…

Day kept that smirk on his grayish face. "Fine. Since you’re putting it that way, I’ll show up," he said wryly. "Let’s see if there are any candidates out there for me."

He took another drag from his cigarette, exhaling smoke into the sky.

"I’d advise you to stop taking pheromone suppressants," I said, pursing my lips slightly. "It might help in your case."

"Oh, why’s that? Can’t I rely on my looks? Am I not fabulous enough?"

"I just… think it might help. Some people benefit from infusing their cards with Allure—it can attract the right person."

"‘Some people, huh? What kind of people are we talking about?"

"Just… many people may have better chances when—"

But he snapped, "Say it out loud, coward! Ugly people, right? That’s what you really meant! I need to lure them in with Allure because I lack in other departments?"

Wow, this escalated way too fast. This guy needed some serious anger management therapy. Day’s hands were trembling, and his annoyance seemed to be only increasing.

"Hm? Is that a problem? I wish that was a repellent factor for all alphas, but yes, I see how you’re looking at me, with that disgusted little look on your pretty face. I’m too ugly for your standards, huh? Is that it? They send me a poster boy who dares to hint I can’t attract a mate based on looks alone!"

Now I had had enough; my patience had reached its limit.

Before I could stop myself, I retorted, "I can't say anything about your appearance; the thick cigarette smoke prevents me from observing you more closely…" I waved my hand to dispel the gray cloud. And made a loud theatrical cough.

No! Wait! Did I really do that and… say that? Out loud? Sadly, yes, I had.

My professionalism had been crumbling ever since I started working at this company.

The omega froze and shot me a sharp look.

"Oh, you bastard… Don’t worry, cigarette smoke won’t blur my vision when I file a complaint about the rude employee of Fate’s Choice! And now, fuck your fair—I’m not showing up! You’ll pay me the fine—"

Oh, no, no. Fuck this guy. I didn’t need him anyway. Ragu had already promised me a job!

So I rudely interrupted him, "I’m here to convey information about the fair attendance obligation, as this is how the company intends to fulfill its part of the contract with you. We want to ensure you find the best partner, and that’s all that matters. My remark was simply a suggestion—smoking is no longer seen as attractive by many people, presentation wise."

"Get out of here before I sic my dogs on you!"

His anger was almost tangible, his eyes like twin lightning bolts.

Okay, right, I admit it—I could’ve been more courteous.

Feeling disturbed, I turned to leave but froze mid-step.

Something he said stuck with me. "I wish that was a repellent factor for all alphas." What did he mean? That he wasn’t entirely undesirable after all? There was something dark behind those words, heavy and almost palpable, like a storm cloud.

With a sigh, I slowly turned around, my conscience nagging at me.

He was still standing there, trembling, pale as a ghost, his energy all over the place, strangely… vulnerable.

Unhurriedly, I walked back toward him and said, "I apologize—"

"Get out!"

"I shouldn’t have said that. It was inappropriate. Please, come to the fair. I promise I’ll do my best to find a good match for you—someone who will love and accept you as you are. I have a special… ability. I might really be able to pull this off for you, but you have to come to the fair. I was hired because of my high success rate in matching people. Please, Day, give yourself a chance at happiness." I hesitated and added, "And practically speaking, you can only claim the fine if you attend. So please, consider it."

If nothing else would work, this would.

He stayed silent, his eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a hard line.

Then, without a word, he turned on his heel and walked back to the house, slamming the door behind him.

Phew.

The only thing I could do now was contact Mr. Ragu before a formal complaint reached him. As soon as I was far enough from the house, I pulled out my phone and dialed my boss.

"I’ve got good news and bad news," I said as soon as he picked up.

Mr. Ragu sighed. "Start with the good. After yesterday, I’m tired of bad news."

"All four clients will be at the auction and fair."

Yes, I said it—all four. Because somehow, I knew Day would come. The potential compensation was too tempting for him to pass up.

"Wow, that’s a big success. I’m glad you were so convincing… Including the fifth, the alpha?"

Oh yeah. My cousin, Gabriel. Almost forgot.

"No, I didn’t talk to him, but I hope he’ll be at the next fair. And as for the others—"

"Yes?"

"Well, things got a little out of hand. I think I overdid it with the last case—the omega involved in surrogacy."

"Sanderson? I remember our initial conversation. He seemed bitter."

"He is. Which isn’t surprising, considering he’s spent years giving birth to children for other people."

"So what happened? Tell me."

"He said he was filing a complaint because I criticized his smoking. He read too much into my suggestion that he should stop using suppressants."

Mr. Ragu sighed. "Well… considering what happened yesterday, that's really small in comparison—he’ll come around."

"I hope so. To be fair, though, he called the company a bunch of scammers."

"It’s his defense mechanism. He’s angry about his poor life choices and wants to pin it on us. It’s easier to blame someone else for his problems."

"I think it’s deeper than that. I read his initial questionnaire—he mentioned a relationship in college. It was good, but the alpha left him for a high mate. It crushed him and pushed him into surrogacy."

"Everyone has their story. But he’s dragged the surrogacy thing out for too long. It’s going to be tough to find him a mate when he looks so emaciated and unhealthy."

"Yeah… Anyway, I know I shouldn’t have made that comment. It’s been a rough day—three meetings earlier, a personal situation, and I’m just exhausted."

"Don’t stress over it. Our company already has its fair share of bad reviews—one more won’t make a difference. That’s just how this industry is."

I sighed heavily. "Anyway, it’s settled. They’ll be at the fair. Also, I’d like to request one more day of remote work to handle a personal matter. But if you need me to review more contracts, send them over."

"These are the last four with guaranteed-match, plus the young alpha case. But the problem is that after yesterday’s chaos, Blue Lowen isn’t returning my calls, so we’re back at square one. We’re working on a high-end program for demanding clients willing to pay a fortune for perfect matches. Big bonuses. Top secret , of course. So don’t worry, there’ll be plenty to keep you busy."

Sure. Everything was ‘top secret’ with Ragu until someone inevitably spilled the beans and blew up his ass. Whatever. I needed to see my omega.

The call ended, and nothing could hold me back. I rushed to my car and drove straight to Damien’s apartment.

My entire body ached with longing—I craved to see him. My soul demanded it. I hadn’t texted him all day amidst the madness, and he hadn’t texted me either. But I couldn’t leave things like this. Seeing him was the most important thing in the world.