CHAPTER 1

The soft morning light filtered through white curtains, filling the Martins’ household with a quiet warmth. The air smelled faintly of lavender and fresh bread from the kitchen.

Remy Martins sat at the small wooden table, hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea. His omega mother, Liam, hummed softly as he plated breakfast. It was peaceful—almost fragile, like a dream that could shatter with the wrong touch.

Remy had always been quiet, gentle by nature. At twenty-two, he still carried a softness in his features, the kind of innocence that made people instinctively want to protect him. His shy smile, his downcast lashes—he was a soul untouched by cruelty. Or at least, that’s what he wanted to believe.

“Remy,” Liam said as he set a plate in front of him, his voice tender but carrying a weight Remy couldn’t quite name. “Eat before it gets cold.”

“Yes, Mama,” Remy replied softly, picking at his food.

Liam sat across from him, watching his son with eyes that had seen too much, eyes that carried secrets. He knew today was not like any other day. For years, a promise had lingered between him and a woman long gone—a promise that would soon pull his son into a world far different from the gentle one he had built here.

“Remy,” Liam began carefully, fingers curling around his teacup. “There’s something you need to prepare yourself for.”

Remy looked up, puzzled. “What is it?”

Before Liam could answer, the heavy sound of cars stopping outside broke the morning calm. Through the window, black vehicles lined the street, their presence commanding, suffocating.

Remy’s heart skipped. He didn’t recognize them, but instinct whispered danger.

Moments later, a knock echoed at the door—firm, final.

Liam’s face softened, but his voice was steady. “It’s time, Remy.” He reached across the table, holding his son’s hand tightly. “Remember what I always told you—no matter where life takes you, no matter who stands before you, never lose yourself.”

Remy’s brows furrowed in confusion, fear curling in his chest. “Mama… what’s happening?”

The door opened, and men in dark suits filled the small space with their looming presence. They bowed slightly—not to Remy, but to Liam.

“Mr. Martins,” one of them said. “We’ve come to escort your son.”

Remy’s pulse raced. Escort? To where? His wide eyes turned to his mother, silently pleading for answers.

Liam squeezed his hand one last time. His smile trembled, but his voice was firm. “To where he belongs. To the one he was promised to.”

The words hit Remy like a thunderclap. His breath caught in his throat.

Promised?

To who?

Before he could form the question, one of the men stepped forward, his tone clipped, respectful but unyielding.

“You are to be married to Tyrone Russo. The preparations begin today.”

The name was unfamiliar to Remy, but the dread it carried was unmistakable. He felt the walls of his safe little world closing in, crumbling with each heartbeat.

Remy’s tea cup slipped from his trembling fingers, shattering on the floor.

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