On the screen, Finnick looked untouchable.The black suit hugged his lean body perfectly, outlining the clean lines of his shoulders and chest. Even seated, even with the wheelchair beneath him, no one could ignore the pressure he carried. It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It was simply there—an invisible weight that made others lower their eyes without knowing why, as if some instinct told them to be careful.
That was Alpha presence.
"Congratulations, Mr. Norton," the blonde hostess said brightly as she handed him the crystal trophy, her smile almost too wide for the occasion.
"Thank you," Finnick replied, his voice deep and steady. His accent was smooth, controlled, each word measured. "I'm honored to receive this award."
His tone was polite, but I could see the restraint beneath it. He never liked public attention. He preferred boardrooms and pack meetings to bright lights and flashing cameras. He preferred quiet control over public applause.
