The air in the executive vault was so cold that it felt like needles pressing into Astra's lungs. It was a sterile, lonely kind of cold, the kind that only existed in places where money was more important than people.
Astra gripped the handle of her heavy-duty floor buffer, her knuckles white. She wasn't supposed to be here. A janitor's badge only cleared her for the hallways, not the private laboratory of Dante Sterling. But Leo (her brother) didn't have time for "supposed to." Her little brother was coughing up silver-flecked blood in a basement flat while the man who owned this building probably spent more on his silk ties than it would cost to save Leo's life.
Just one vial, she told herself, her heart thudding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. One vial of the Blue Serum and the debt is paid.
She pulled the black-market scrambler from her pocket. It felt like a lead weight. If she got caught, there would be no trial. In a city run by Alphas, a "wolfless" omega caught stealing from a High-Rise King disappeared. Period.
The vault door hissed as the lock clicked. Astra slipped inside, her boots silent on the marble. The room was filled with glass cases, but her eyes were locked on the center pedestal. There it was, a single syringe filled with a liquid so blue it looked like a piece of the sky had been trapped in glass.
She reached out, her fingers trembling. She could almost feel the cool glass.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, little thief."
The voice didn't come from the doorway. It seemed to come from the very air itself, a low, gravelly vibration that rattled the glass cases and made Astra's teeth ache.
Astra froze. She didn't turn around. She couldn't. Her body had suddenly become a prison of its own making.
Then, the smell hit her.
It wasn't a normal human scent. It was the smell of a forest after a wildfire, raw, charred cedar mixed with a sharp, metallic tang of pure power. It was the scent of an Alpha who didn't just lead a pack, but owned the ground they walked on.
For the first time in ten years, the dormant, broken wolf inside Astra's chest let out a whimper so loud she was sure he could hear it.
"Turn around," the voice commanded.
It wasn't a suggestion. It was an Alpha Command, a physical force that grabbed Astra's spine and twisted. Her boots squeaked on the floor as her body forced itself to obey.
Dante Sterling was leaning against the heavy vault door, his arms crossed over a chest that looked like it was carved from granite. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the throat, and Astra could see the pulse jumping in his neck. His eyes weren't the calm blue the news cameras showed. They were glowing, a deep, predatory amber that seemed to burn right through her ragged janitor's uniform.
"Mr. Sterling," Astra croaked. Her voice sounded small and pathetic in the vast room.
"You're Astra, aren't you?" He took a step toward her. He didn't walk; he prowled. Every movement was fluid, dangerous, and perfectly controlled. "The girl from the 'Grey Zone' who cleans my toilets and never looks anyone in the eye."
Astra backed away until her spine hit the cold pedestal. "I... I was just cleaning. I heard a noise"
"Don't lie to me." Dante was inches away now. The heat coming off his body was like a furnace, making the cold air of the vault feel like a distant memory. He leaned down, his face so close she could see the golden flecks in his eyes. "I could hear your heart from the hallway. It sounds like a drum, Astra. And your scent..."
He leaned in, his nostrils flaring as he took a deep, jagged breath near the crook of her neck. Astra's skin pricked and itched. A strange, electric heat began to coil in her belly, a feeling she hadn't felt since her parents were killed and her bond was shattered.
"You smell like rain and something ancient," Dante whispered, his voice dropping to a low growl that made Astra's knees buckle. "You think you're a nobody. A wolfless scrap-picker. But I know better."
He reached out, his thumb catching her chin and forcing her to look at him. Where his skin touched hers, it felt like a brand.
"You tried to steal from me," Dante said, his amber eyes locking onto hers with terrifying intensity. "In my world, that means you belong to me now. Your life, your debt... your body. It all belongs to the Sterling Pack."
Astra tried to find her voice, to tell him she'd rather die than be a billionaire's plaything. But as his fingers brushed the sensitive skin of her throat, her wolf didn't want to fight. It wanted to kneel.
"You're going to sign a contract, Astra," Dante murmured, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "You'll live in my penthouse. You'll be my personal 'aide.' And in exchange, I'll make sure your brother lives to see the sun tomorrow."
He pulled a digital tablet from his pocket, the screen glowing in the dim vault.
"Sign it. Or walk out of here and watch him die. The choice is yours, little wolf."
Astra looked at the screen, then at the man who looked like he wanted to devour her and save her all at once. With a shaking hand, she pressed her thumb to the glass.
Contract Accepted.
Dante smirked, a sharp flash of white teeth that looked far too much like fangs. "Good girl. Now, let's go see what else you're hiding under that baggy uniform."