Chapter 1
Otto watched the Explorers’ training floor from the upper-level balcony.
Beyond the armored glass, V-4 drifted through the darkness, one of the last four stations still capable of sustaining human life.
Earth was nothing more than a ghost of a memory now. Humanity had scattered across the cosmos after horrors from another star system had devoured their homeworld. Colonies had followed, then fleets, then the desperate search for habitable worlds.
But humanity had carried one problem with it: the omegas were disappearing.
He was a man of imposing proportions, pushing fifty, but his heavy build didn’t detract an ounce from his elegance. Always perfectly groomed, not a hair out of place, he wore an impeccably white lab coat. As a beta, his mind was a sanctuary of logic and precise calculations.
Behind the lenses of his glasses, his dark eyes tracked a single target among a sea of uniformed recruits.
Callan.
The young beta was striking the simulator with flawless precision.
Otto tapped his datapad, pulling up the boy’s genetic blueprint. He was searching for the key to unlock dormant recessive chromosomes, forcing a beta’s body to biologically transition into omega physiology.
And Callan possessed the perfect code. He wasn’t just a future Explorer; in the eyes of Station V-4′s Chief Scientist, he was the first step toward saving the Stations.
Otto instantly recognized the footsteps echoing behind him. The Regent of V-4 embodied her alpha nature with unyielding, ruthless authority.
“Reports, Doctor.” Jillian stopped beside him.
To the Regent, biology was an unbending destiny, though she was giving Project Omega a chance entirely because of the Chief Scientist’s persistence.
“We are making progress mapping the recessives, Regent,” Otto replied, his mild tone a stark contrast to her harshness. “The omega shortage will be solved. It’s just a matter of aligning the right genes.”
Jillian shifted her gaze to the vast, starry expanse beyond the courtyard’s armored glass ceiling. Her mind often drifted into a private abyss. She was accustomed to taking and discarding the omegas brought to her quarters to sate her instincts. The omega shortage plaguing all four space stations had never been an issue for her, but none of them possessed Freya’s warmth.
The memory of the omega she loved was still an open wound.
Freya had fallen in love with Andreas, the current Commander of the Explorer Corps, and married the alpha, only to die shortly after giving birth. She took with her the only vulnerability the Regent had ever allowed herself to feel.
“You can’t play God with what’s left of our species, Otto. Just make sure your little experiments don’t disrupt the order of V-4,” Jillian ordered, turning her back on the scientist and leaving the balcony.
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Hours later, the corridors of the military wing were dead quiet, bathed in artificial light that simulated twilight. Jillian was walking aimlessly when the sound of heavy breathing and fists pounding against the impact simulator caught her attention.
Inside the empty gym, lit only by the dim glow of emergency lights, a nineteen-year-old boy was pummeling the equipment with raw fury.
Jillian paused in the doorway.
He was just a beta under Andreas’s command. Yet, as she watched the boy wipe the sweat from his brow, something rooted her to the spot. The shape of his face, the dark hue of his eyes when the light caught them...
Jillian stepped forward, revealing herself in the light.
“Mandatory training ended three hours ago, recruit.”
Callan jumped, instantly snapping to attention.
“Madam Regent. My apologies,” he replied, keeping his eyes lowered, his respect laced with intimidation. “I usually keep training after hours. I have Commander Andreas’s authorization.”
Jillian slowly walked up to him. She couldn’t detect the sweet scent of an omega on him, only the neutral scent of a beta, but the pull drawing her toward the young man was undeniable. She could see the striking features she had never forgotten reflected in his face.
“Don’t apologize for having discipline,” she said. Jillian stopped, studying his face up close. “What’s your name, recruit?”
“Callan, ma’am.”
In the silence of the gym, the name struck something deep in Jillian’s chest.
The moment, however, was shattered by the heavy thud of military boots approaching down the hall.
Jillian stiffened. Her alpha instincts recognized the approach of a rival even before he crossed the gym’s threshold.
Andreas stopped dead in the doorway. His narrowed brown eyes swept the dimly lit gym until they locked onto Jillian. The surprise on his features lasted only a split second, masked by a veneer of cynical military politeness.
“Regent Jillian.” Andreas dipped his head in a curt nod. “It’s not every day you see the leader of V-4 wandering the bowels of the military training grounds at this hour.”
“Commander Andreas. I was just passing by when a recruit still training long after curfew caught my eye. That isn’t exactly an everyday occurrence either.”
Callan looked back and forth between Andreas and Jillian, trying to grasp the invisible storm brewing between them. To him, it was just the clash of two alpha leaders; to them, it was Freya’s ghost standing right in the middle of the gym.
Andreas finally tore his eyes away from the Regent, shifting his gaze to the boy.
“Done with your training, Callan?”
“Yes, sir,” Callan answered promptly. He turned, grabbing his canvas duffel and the jacket tossed over the bench. “I was just leaving.”
Jillian didn’t look away from Andreas, holding her ground in their silent duel.
“The recruit is remarkably dedicated, Commander. Finding him punishing the impact simulator three hours after mandatory training ended is... impressive.”
A flicker of pride shone in Andreas’s eyes as he watched the boy sling the duffel strap over his shoulder.
“Dedication runs in the blood, Regent,” he shot back. “I’d expect nothing less from my own son.”
Jillian blinked. The impact of those words knocked the air right out of her lungs.
As Callan hurried past the Commander with a quick nod toward the corridor, Jillian stared at the recruit’s retreating silhouette. Those eyes, the subtle bone structure of his face, the ghostly magnetism that had pulled her into this dark gym minutes ago...
That disciplined beta wasn’t just the son of her rival.
Callan was the son Freya had bled to death giving birth to.
