I stared at the blinking dot. They could find me anywhere now. That was the point. That was the whole point of being here.
I pressed my thumb against the implant until the sting became pain, until the pain became real, until I could breathe again.
Finally, they gave us the ceremonial garments. White linen pants, loose and flowing. Fitted white shirts that buttoned at the throat. No shoes. We would run barefoot through the preserve, vulnerable and exposed, while alphas pursued us in boots and tactical gear.
The symbolism was not subtle.
Theo appeared at my elbow, dressed in identical white, his dark curls tamed into a semblance of order. "We look like sacrifices," he said cheerfully. "Very virgin-thrown-into-volcano energy."
"That's not reassuring."
"It wasn't meant to be." He bumped his shoulder against mine. "Stick close during the ceremony, yeah? Safety in numbers."
I nodded. It wasn't safety I was looking for. But the offer of solidarity was more than I'd had in a long time.
The great hall swallowed us whole.
One hundred omegas filed through the massive oak doors and arranged themselves in rows along the eastern wall. The space soared overhead, all vaulted ceilings and stained glass and dark wood beams carved with hunting scenes from centuries past. Morning light streamed through the windows in shafts of gold and amber, painting the stone floor in geometric patterns that shifted as clouds passed outside. The air smelled of beeswax candles and old wood and the sharp tang of collective fear rising from a hundred nervous bodies.
I catalogued the colors without meaning to. Habit.
On the opposite side of the hall, a second set of doors stood closed. Behind them, fifty alphas waited.
And between us, cameras. Dozens of them. Mounted on tripods, held by operators in black vests, hovering on drones that buzzed near the ceiling. The Chase was broadcast live to premium subscribers, I'd learned. A hundred thousand viewers paying to watch omegas tremble and alphas salivate.
I kept my head down. Focused on the cold stone beneath my bare feet, the white linen against my skin, the steady rhythm of my own breathing. I didn't want to see which alphas reacted to me. Didn't want to watch them scent the air and calculate my value. I just wanted to survive the next few hours and come out belonging to someone who wasn't Vernon.
The western doors swung open.
The alphas entered in a wave of expensive cologne and barely leashed aggression. The sound of their boots echoed off the stone, a rhythmic thunder that vibrated through my bare soles. They wore black to our white, tactical pants and fitted shirts that displayed muscle and wealth in equal measure. Someswaggered. Some stalked. All of them scanned the omega ranks with the assessing gaze of predators selecting prey.
The scenting began.
It was structured chaos. Alphas moved among the omega rows, pausing to inhale, to assess, to mark their targets. The air thickened with mingled pheromones, a dizzying cocktail of desire and fear and calculation. I could taste it on my tongue, could feel it pressing against my skin.
Some omegas preened under the attention, tilting their necks to offer better access to their scent glands. Others shrank back, eyes downcast, shoulders curved inward. The cameras tracked it all, zooming in on reactions, capturing the moment connection sparked or fizzled between strangers.
I stood frozen. Head down, hands clasped in front of me, every muscle locked against the urge to run. My bare feet pressed into the cold stone floor. My breath came shallow and controlled. I made myself invisible the way Vernon had taught me, the way I'd learned to survive.
A blond alpha paused near me, sniffed once, and moved on. His scent was all musk and aggression, nothing that called to me, nothing my body recognized. Then another approached, dark-haired and heavy-browed, who lingered long enough to make my skin crawl. His eyes traveled down my body with possessive assessment before his attention caught on Theo instead.
Theo met his gaze with a challenge in his smile, and the alpha grinned back, and I felt the spark of interest between them crackle through the air. Good. Let them circle each other. Let me fade into the background.
At least one of us would get a fairy tale.
I was so focused on not looking that I almost missed it.
A gaze settled on me. Heavy. Intent. A physical weight that pressed against my skin and demanded acknowledgment.
I kept my head down. Refused to look. Refused to give whoever it was the satisfaction of my attention.
The gaze didn't move. Didn't waver. It stayed fixed on me with an intensity that made my lungs forget how to work.
Against every instinct, I looked up.
Min-ho Irvin stood twenty feet away.
The world narrowed to a single point of focus, edges blurring into watercolor smears while he remained sharp and clear at the center. My brain catalogued the details without my permission. The way his black shirt stretched across broad shoulders that hadn't existed twelve years ago. The corded forearms, scarred in places from forge work. The stillness of his posture, controlled and deliberate, a man who had learned to contain his power rather than display it.
