The rain hadn’t stopped for three days.

Neither had the pounding in River Hale’s head.

The sky over the city was a dull, unbroken gray, heavy with clouds that looked ready to burst all over again. Puddles pooled at the curbs, reflecting blurred streaks of neon from street signs. A cold wind slipped under his coat, biting at his skin, but it wasn’t just the weather making him shiver.

He stood at the foot of Vance Corp’s towering glass facade, the building so tall it seemed to vanish into the low-hanging clouds. The place was more than an office — it was a statement, a monument to wealth and dominance. And today, it was his personal lion’s den.

In his hands, he clutched a waterproof envelope like it was the only thing keeping him afloat. The edges were starting to crease from the force of his grip, and his nails dug crescents into the thick paper. Inside was everything he’d been dreading for the past month — a contract that had the power to rewrite his entire future.

Somewhere deep in his gut, a slow burn had begun to coil. His body’s cruel reminder: his next heat was near. The warmth was faint for now, just a simmer under his ribs, but it was enough to make his palms sweat. He cursed under his breath. Perfect timing. Nothing said power imbalance like standing in front of the most ruthless Alpha in the city while his own biology threatened to betray him.

The revolving glass doors spun open, spilling out a rush of cold, conditioned air. River stepped inside. The marble lobby gleamed under soft lighting, its air scented faintly with something sharp and clean — expensive, calculated. His steps echoed against the floor as he crossed the room, but the sound was swallowed up when he appeared.

Leon Vance.

Even standing still, the man commanded the space like he owned not just the building, but the ground beneath it. Six-foot-three, shoulders broad and unyielding, every inch of him wrapped in a tailored charcoal Armani suit that probably cost more than River’s yearly rent.

The first thing River noticed wasn’t his height or his looks — though both were unfairly perfect — but his eyes. Cold, assessing, and far too sharp. They swept over River from head to toe, slow enough to feel deliberate, invasive, like he was being catalogued, dissected, and filed away under mine.

“Mr. Hale.” Leon’s voice was a low, dangerous purr that seemed to vibrate in the air between them. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

River tightened his grip on the envelope. “Maybe because I don’t like being hunted.”

Leon’s mouth quirked, but it wasn’t a smile. He stepped forward — once, twice — each stride unhurried, a predator closing in on prey that had nowhere left to run. By the third step, River could feel it: the subtle push of Alpha pheromones. Not an overwhelming wave, but a calculated brush, enough to make his pulse thud harder in his throat.

“You think you can resist me?” Leon asked.

River met his gaze head-on. “Try me.”

The Alpha’s lips curled into something that almost resembled amusement. “Funny…” His tone dropped, silken and edged. “…I wasn’t asking.”

Before River could speak again, Leon’s hand moved — not fast, not slow, just deliberate — reaching for the envelope. Instinct flared, and River yanked it closer to his chest, like a shield he wasn’t willing to lower.

“This isn’t a negotiation,” Leon murmured, closing the remaining distance between them until River could feel the ghost of his breath along his ear. “You’re going to sign the contract, and when you do…” His gaze dipped briefly — sharp, assessing, knowing — to the hollow of River’s throat, then back up to his eyes. “…you’re going to be mine.”

The words slid under River’s skin, not just as a threat, but a promise. And as much as he hated himself for it, his heart stuttered in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

The elevator ride was silent.

Too silent.

River stood as far from Leon as the narrow space would allow, his back pressed against the mirrored wall. The faint hum of machinery filled the space, but it did nothing to drown out the steady thrum of his pulse. He could feel the Alpha’s presence — not just beside him, but pressing in, warm and suffocating, a gravitational pull he wanted to resist and couldn’t ignore.

Leon didn’t look at him. He didn’t have to. His reflection in the mirror was enough — sharp jawline, cold profile, the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth as if he were already savoring a victory he hadn’t officially won.

The elevator chimed at the top floor.

The doors slid open.

Leon stepped out first, his strides long and unhurried. River followed reluctantly, his sneakers muffled by the plush black carpet. The air here was different — warmer, richer, faintly laced with the scent of leather and something darker, something distinctly Alpha.

The hallway led to double glass doors that opened automatically as Leon approached. His office wasn’t just a workspace — it was a throne room. A wall of glass overlooked the city, rain sliding in rivulets down its surface, blurring the neon lights beyond. Lightning flickered in the distance, briefly illuminating the room in silver.

At the far end sat a desk of black walnut, broad and gleaming, bare except for a slim laptop, a fountain pen, and a crystal tumbler half-filled with amber liquid. Behind it, shelves lined with hardbound books and a few carefully placed pieces of art gave the room an air of cultivated intimidation.

Leon gestured to the leather chair opposite him. “Sit.”

River lingered for a heartbeat too long. One eyebrow lifted in silent command, and River’s legs moved before he could overthink it. The chair was soft, but it felt like a trap.

Leon took his seat, leaning back slightly, his fingers steepled. His gaze didn’t waver. “Open it.”

The waterproof envelope suddenly felt heavier in River’s hands. Slowly, he tore it open and slid out a sheaf of thick, cream-colored pages. The Vance Corp letterhead was embossed in silver at the top. His eyes skimmed the first few lines—

—and stopped.

Marriage Contract.

He blinked, certain he’d misread. But flipping through the first few pages only confirmed it. The words were cold, legal, binding.

• Legally binding union for a minimum of five years.

• Full public acknowledgment as Leon Vance’s Omega spouse.

• Relocation to Leon’s residence within seventy-two hours of signing.

• Exclusive claim — no other partners permitted.

“This is—” His voice caught. “This is insane.”

Leon’s smirk was slow, deliberate. “It’s efficient.”

River’s pulse kicked up. “You think I’m just going to marry you? Out of nowhere?”

Leon’s tone was calm, almost bored. “Not out of nowhere. We’ve been circling this for weeks.”

“We’ve been circling a business deal,” River snapped. “Not—whatever this is.”

Leon rose from his chair, smooth and deliberate, walking around the desk until he stood beside him. The faint brush of his scent — warm cedar, smoke, and something heady — slid under River’s defenses before he could block it.

“You need protection,” Leon said quietly. “My protection. And I need…” His gaze dipped briefly to River’s throat, lingering where his scent glands pulsed faintly under the skin, betraying the early signs of his heat. “…someone who won’t crumble under pressure.”

River’s throat worked. “And if I refuse?”

Leon leaned down, his hand braced on the armrest, closing the space between them until River could feel the subtle warmth of his body and the dominance threading through his pheromones. “You won’t.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Leon’s smirk didn’t fade. “It’s the only one you’re going to get.”

River pushed back from the desk, the chair’s wheels gliding an inch across the carpet. His mind screamed at him to walk out, to tell this overbearing Alpha exactly where he could shove his contract. And yet… part of him, deep down, already knew Leon was right.

Because the moment he’d walked through those doors, some invisible line had been crossed — and Leon Vance was not the kind of man who let go once he decided something was his.

River didn’t bother waiting for a reply.

He shoved back from the desk, his chair rolling back sharply on the plush carpet. His heart thundered, a chaotic drumbeat that echoed the storm raging outside. His breaths came fast, shallow, and each step toward the door felt like a battle—between the instinct to run and the sick pull that kept his feet planted.

“I’m not signing,” he spat without looking back.

Leon’s voice followed him, calm but cold as steel. “You don’t get to decide.”

River’s fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he pushed the door open. The hallway swallowed him, sterile lights flickering overhead, but River barely noticed. His mind was a storm of confusion and anger, a tempest of things unsaid and fears unacknowledged.

He didn’t stop until he was outside the building, the rain lashing at his face like a cruel baptism. The city was a blur of lights and shadows, but all River could see was the contract — the prison — waiting for him in that office.

He ran.

The pounding of his sneakers on wet pavement was the only sound until he slipped into the dim safety of his apartment building. The door slammed shut behind him with a finality that should have brought relief — but didn’t.

Inside, silence pressed in, thick and heavy. River’s chest heaved, muscles trembling with adrenaline and the remnants of fear.

He thought it was over.

He was free.

Until the knock came.

Three sharp, deliberate raps echoing against the door.

River froze, every instinct screaming at him to ignore it, to pretend it wasn’t there. But the knock came again, more urgent this time.

Heart hammering, River peered through the peephole.

Leon.

His eyes met River’s through the tiny glass, unreadable and fierce. Without a word, Leon’s hand lifted, fingers tapping once against the doorframe — a silent promise, or a warning.

River’s breath caught.

He opened the door.

Leon stepped inside before he could think better of it. The scent of cedar and smoke filled the small space, wrapping around River like a shackle.

“Did you really think walking away was an option?” Leon’s voice was low, a dangerous edge threading through the calm.

River backed up, but the narrow entryway offered no escape. “What do you want?”

Leon’s eyes gleamed with something fierce, something unyielding. “Compliance.”

River shook his head, voice trembling but defiant. “I won’t be your pawn.”

“Pawn?” Leon laughed, dark and mirthless. “You’re far from that. You’re the key.”

The Alpha stepped closer, closing the distance until River could feel the heat radiating off his skin, the intoxicating weight of his presence.

“There are terms, River,” Leon said, his voice a whisper now, but every word landed like a hammer. “This isn’t a game. You can’t run from this contract. Not from me.”

River’s knees felt weak, but his voice was steady. “Then what? Threaten me?”

Leon’s gaze dropped briefly to River’s throat, eyes narrowing. “This isn’t a threat. It’s a promise.”

He pressed a folded piece of paper into River’s hand. The words “Personal Guarantee” were scrawled across the top.

“You sign this,” Leon said, “or you’ll learn what it means to cross me.”

River swallowed hard, the weight of the ultimatum sinking deep. His mind raced — the contract, the power, the inevitability.

Some part of him wanted to fight. Another part knew he’d already lost.

Leon’s smirk returned, slow and victorious.

“Choose wisely,” he said, turning on his heel and walking toward the door.

River’s fingers clenched the paper as the door clicked shut behind him.

And in the silence that followed, the storm outside finally seemed to quiet.

But inside, River’s world was only beginning to unravel.