Chapter 1
Survival was simple: three seconds. If an Alpha looked at you, wait before you breathed. If they spoke, pause, then disappear. If they struck, you dropped. For twenty-two years, Luka Lightwood lived like that, learning how to be nothing in Alpha Darius’s house.
Today, the clock stopped.
Luka went over a rotting log, the mud in the Ashlands making his hands slip. Behind him, silver-tipped arrows cut through the fog. He wasn’t just running from the fight; he was running because his own body had failed him.
He was a defective Omega who never fully developed, a mistake in the pack’s order. Because of that, he was denied suppressants, treated like nothing, and used as a scent shield for the others. But now, with fear closing in, that control was starting to break. His scent was leaking.
It wasn’t the sweet, inviting scent of a healthy Omega. It was a sharp, unstable scent with an ancient, destabilising energy. Every staggering step he took across the mud left a flare of panic that any predator could track.
Be nothing, Stay small, he screamed internally.
Luka hit the mud with a cry. He looked down, his vision narrowing as he saw the silver-tipped arrow stuck in his thigh. It didn’t just burn the silver; it sent sharp pain through his body. The shield he had lived behind his entire life was shattered.
His scent surged sharply and suddenly, like cedar and burnt earth, making the air feel heavy. It wasn’t normal. It felt like a warning.
He tried to crawl, his fingers digging into the cold ash. He was in Draven territory now, the enemy’s land.
The forest went silent, just the heavy, pressurised weight of an Alpha aura; it felt like iron pressing against Luka’s spine.
“You’re a long way from home, Lightwood,” a voice vibrated through the fog. It wasn’t a snarl; it was a low rumble that made Luka recoil and reach out all at once.
Luka forced himself to turn, his heart pounding. Standing five feet away was a man who looked terrifying. Xander Draven didn’t move. He stood with a terrifying look, his dark eyes fixed on the silver arrow in Luka’s leg.
But then, Xander’s nostrils flared.
The Alpha’s eyes shifted to gold, then darkened to black. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. Luka’s unstable scent hit him like a blow, testing the control Xander had held onto since the day his brother died in a heat cycle frenzy. Luka saw the change. He saw hunger in this Alpha’s eyes.
“Kill me,” Luka whispered, his voice cracking. “Darius said I’m a defective, just finish it.”
Xander stepped forward. He reached down, his fingers hovering inches from the wound.
“You’re not a defective,” Xander hissed, his voice strained as if he were fighting a war inside his own chest. “You’re a threat.”
Before Luka could scream, Xander’s hand closed around the arrow and snapped the head off. He didn’t kill him. Instead, he reached down and carried Luka into his arms.
Luka’s head fell back against the Alpha’s chest. The scent of cold metal hit him hard, briefly calming his body. The world began to fade, and Luka understood his three seconds were gone. The silence was over. The man holding him could either fix what was breaking inside him or destroy him completely.
