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“I was unaware the Bloodbound employed so many Omegas that they’re forced to stay on suppressants even in their own home,” I snap, making it clear just how fucking irresponsible that is—especially surrounded by hundreds of unBonded Alphas.

Daxen smirks. “Actually, Idril’s the only Omega here.”

His tone puts me on edge—my Beast paces, growling in agitation.

Kane turns and leans closer before whispering, “Why do I get the feeling they’re keeping something from us?”

“I agree,” I murmur. “Something’s… off.”

The squeal of the doorknob slices through the room. My heart starts pounding wildly. I shoot to my feet without making the decision to move, spinning to face the door.

The first thing I see is a male's hand, reaching out and wrapping around the edge of the door to push it open. My own hands shake, and I curl them into fists to keep from reaching for the Omega about to walk through that door.

This is it. The moment I’ve dreamt of for eighty years.

The door opens wide. A short, delicate figure appears, stepping warily into the room. Behind her is an Alpha, tall and firm, just like his friends.

Unlike the other two, this male looks less like a battle-hardened warrior and more like a fucking male model. If I gave a shit about him, I’d probably be shocked by the otherworldly beauty of his dark auburn hair and perfectly symmetrical features.

As it stands, I don’t give a shit about him.

It’s only because he’s in my direct line of sight that I spare him even a glance before my attention drops to the slight form in front of him. Then, I have to remind myself to fucking breathe as my vision tunnels, and the room starts to spin because she’s there. Here.

Right in front of me.

My Mate is right in front of me, but her attention isn’t on me. It’s on the ornamental fucker behind her.

She glances at him over her shoulder, and when she doesn’t make any move to continue into the room, he hisses, “Get going, for Fate’s sake. Move.”

His tone snaps my spine straight and flares rage through my blood.

How fucking dare he talk to her that way?

My Omega doesn’t respond. She simply faces forward and hangs her head. Her shoulders curl in, inching nearly to her ears. As she turns, guilt flashes across the Alpha’s face, then disappears behind a mask of indifference.

What. The. Fuck.

I start to move, already imagining how many ways I can rearrange this assholes perfect fucking face when my eyes land on my Mate and every single thought that isn’t her disappears.

She shuffles forward, stopping less than six feet into the room. Every line of her frame is strung tight, like she’s mere seconds from bolting. She hasn’t looked up, choosing instead to keep her eyes trained on the floor as if she looks up for even a second, something terrible will happen. Long sheets of silver hair hang on either side of her face, shielding her further.

What started as a gut feeling that something wasn’t right is no longer just a feeling. It’s a certainty.

Wrong. Wrong. This is all wrong.

My Beast whines, confused and unsure.

I take a step.

Then another.

One more.

I make myself stop when I’m about three feet away, knowing somehow that if I move any closer, I’m going to scare her. Time feels like it’s crawled to a stop. Everything that’s not Idril is shoved to the back of my brain. The other males, my Second, the pretentious Drawing Room in this stupid castle. None of it matters.

There is only me, my Omega, and the air we’re breathing.

The only thing in this world that matters is her. Her next move. Her next thought. Her next breath. My world is suspended; time and space and life itself sit on a razor’s edge, waiting for the moment it happens.