- Elias Grayson:
The evening had settled over the Grayson territory, the forested hills surrounding our lands turning dark green under the fading sunlight. Every pack had its borders, lines marked and respected, each one with its own stories, its own history. Grayson territory was ours—dense woods, open meadows, a river curving around the edges—and even in the quiet of the evening, I could feel its weight. Safety, strength, and a subtle, unshakable pride that came from knowing this land belonged to my family.
I was in my room, sprawled over my desk, textbooks open, laptop humming softly. Even in the last year of college, there was no escaping work. I had assignments to finish, papers to write, things to study. Focus was my refuge. I liked the quiet, the rhythm of notes being taken, the world narrowing down to just me and the screen.
A soft knock broke the silence.
"Come in," I called without looking up.
The door opened, and a maid stepped in, hesitating slightly before speaking. "Sir… your father… the Alpha… he's calling you. Our guests are here."
I nodded, still buried in my work. "Yes, thank you." She bowed slightly and left, her steps careful, almost hesitant, as if she were walking on fragile ground.
I shut my laptop, grabbed my backpack, and headed for the bathroom. A shower first—hot water washing away the tension of the day. Then something clean and neat to wear, something better than pajamas. I need to look presentable for our guests.
As I stepped toward the stairs, laughter drifted from the living room below. Deep, strong voices, men laughing like they owned the world, two women laughing along, their voices lighter, melodic. But there was something else, something that pulled at the back of my mind, made my stomach twist in ways I couldn't explain.
A scent.
It was strong, overwhelming, not the ordinary scent of an Alpha or a Beta or even an Omega. I couldn't tell the rank, couldn't place it at all. It was… powerful, commanding, impossible to ignore, even if I tried. The maid's hesitant expression suddenly made sense now, she was scared of whoever is the owner of this scent.
I shook my head, forcing myself to ignore it. My curiosity flared, but I pushed it down. I moved downstairs, careful to act casual, though my pulse had picked up.
The living room opened up before me in its usual grandeur. My dad was there, talking and laughing with a man around his own age. They were close, too close for anyone unfamiliar to understand—a friendship forged long ago, easy and natural, loud and comfortable. My father's hand rested on the man's shoulder as he spoke, laughter spilling between them.
Across the room, my mother chatted with a woman I didn't recognize, smiles and soft laughs exchanged, the ease of old acquaintances catching me off guard.
And then I saw him.
The source of the scent that had unsettled me from the stairs.
He was enormous. Broad shoulders that could have blocked a doorway, the kind of height that made you tilt your head to meet his gaze. Long, thick black hair fell to the middle of his back. His face… scarred. A long, deep scar ran from his hairline, through his eyebrow, across his eye, down his nose, and cut along the other cheek to his jaw. Sharp features, impossible to ignore.
His body was mostly covered in tattoos, every inch seeming to declare strength and danger. His shirt clung tightly, muscles straining against the fabric as if threatening to tear through at any moment. Black and gray bracelets circled his wrists, cargo pants hung perfectly on his frame, and heavy combat boots completed the intimidating picture. A leather jacket lay draped beside him, like it had been placed there in surrender to him alone.
And yet… a small silver necklace rested at his throat, delicate and almost… soft, in stark contrast to everything else about him. A subtle, almost girlish thing, but somehow fitting.
He sat quietly, eyes on the floor, calm and unreadable. Occasionally, when my dad asked something, he would nod or let out the faintest smile. That was it. Nothing else.
I stopped, unable to look away. The weight of him pressed against the air, filled the room without a word. My father noticed me finally.
"Eli!" my dad called, his voice carrying across the room. "Come say hi to our guests!"
I swallowed, my throat dry, still staring at him—the scary man in black with the cute girly necklace.