The underground fight ring reeked of blood, sweat, and smoke. Cracked concrete walls echoed with the roars of the crowd, each voice hungry for violence, for something raw. Somewhere above the haze of torchlight and shadows, money changed hands like silent thunder.
Kai kept his head down, hood up, bare feet scuffing the ash-stained floor. The collar of his coat was frayed. His knuckles were raw. And his heat was coming on early.
He couldn't afford that. Not here. Not tonight.
"Don't burn," he whispered under his breath, the words more ritual than request.
The scent of alphas was thick — wild, hot, layered with aggression and desire. But Kai's own scent, suppressed with suppressants stolen from back-alley clinics, was dull. Muted. A secret buried deep in fire.
Across the ring, his opponent stepped in — a broad, snarling man, half-shifted with glowing eyes and claws. Not quite wolf. Not quite human. He cracked his neck and growled, flashing his teeth.
Kai didn't flinch.
Let them see a poor, low-born omega.
Let them underestimate him.
He glanced upward, just once, toward the balcony above the ring where the highborn watched like kings. And that's when he saw him.
A figure in a tailored coat, lit from behind by violet flame and cold firelight. Lean, tall, still. Sharp eyes locked onto Kai with an intensity that didn't belong here — not among blood and bets.
Lucien Vale.
Heir to the Vale Syndicate. Alpha of alphas. And, if the rumors were true, more cursed than Kai could ever hope to be.
Their eyes met. The world stilled. Close