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*CHAPTER ONE: THE CLAIM*
The city never slept, but tonight, it was holding its breath.
Rain slicked the cobblestones outside *Le Veleno*, the underground club where deals were made and lives were bought. Inside, the music pulsed low — like a heartbeat trying not to panic. The crowd parted when *he* walked in.
*Lucien Moretti*.
Dark suit, darker eyes. The kind of man who didn't need bodyguards — because his silence alone killed louder than bullets. No scent. No emotion. Just presence. An Alpha with no leash, no known mate, and no known weakness.
Except maybe… *Eli*.
Eli had come to the club for a quick job — deliver a message, disappear. Small-time errands kept him off the radar, kept his *Omega scent suppressed*. Or so he thought.
He felt it before he saw him — a shift in the air, a pressure behind his ribs.
Then Lucien's eyes locked onto his. Not just looking. *Sensing*.
"You," Lucien said, voice quiet and cutting. "You don't belong here."
Eli's mask cracked for half a second. He should've run. But he didn't.
Because somewhere deep in his gut, something ancient curled and *answered*.
Eli kept his head down as he slipped past the bouncers. The club reeked of Alphas — strong scents, territorial stares, heat-slicked desire. He hated it. But work was work, and Omegas without protection didn't get to be picky.
He wasn't supposed to draw attention.
Just drop off a sealed envelope at the bar and vanish into the noise.
No one was supposed to *see* him.
Especially not *Lucien Moretti*.
Eli glanced up. One look was all it took.
Lucien stood near the private balcony above the main floor, one hand in his coat pocket, the other cradling a crystal glass of whiskey. His gaze was unreadable — sharp, slow-burning, and *deadly calm*.
Rumors swirled around the man like smoke:
That he took over the Moretti family at eighteen.
That he'd slit his father's throat in silence.
That no one ever scented his Alpha nature unless *he allowed it*.
Eli had never believed the stories — until now.
Lucien's voice cut through the music. "Omega."
Eli froze.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't angry.
But every Alpha in the room went still.
Eli turned slowly, heart pounding. His suppressants weren't due to wear off for another two days. Had he made a mistake? A crack in the dose? A slip in the mask?
Lucien descended the stairs like a predator with no urgency. "Who sent you?"
"No one," Eli replied, voice steady, even if his knees weren't. "Just a delivery."
Lucien came close enough to touch him — but didn't.
He didn't need to.
His presence *wrapped* around Eli like a command.
"I can smell the lie on your skin."
Eli clenched his jaw, adrenaline and instinct crashing together. He couldn't afford this — not here, not now.
"I don't know who you think I am—"
"You're unregistered," Lucien said, softly. "Hidden. Untouched. Why?"
Eli didn't answer.
Lucien tilted his head, studying him like a puzzle with missing edges.
Then, without warning, the Alpha leaned in — close enough for only Eli to hear.
"You walk into my world half-suppressed, half-starved, and expect to go unnoticed?" His voice was a growl dressed in velvet. "You either have a death wish, or you're bait."
Eli's heart thudded. "I'm no one."
Lucien's lips curved — not quite a smile. "Then no one belongs to me now."
And before Eli could step back, Lucien's scent *bloomed* — cold, sharp, intoxicating. It crashed into Eli's suppressed instincts like a storm.
The club spun. His legs trembled.
The bond line hadn't been drawn. But the *claim* had begun.
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