"Please! I can fix this-"

"And make sure," she added, her gaze finally flicking back to him, "he remembers exactly where he stands."

Greene dropped fully this time to his knees. Right there in front of everyone. 

"Elara, please! I didn't know! I swear I didn't know-"

She stared at him unmoved.

"You're right," she said quietly.

"You didn't know."

Her lips curved slightly not into a smile but for something colder. 

"And that ignorance cost you everything." She turned to the guards, and then lowered her stance to meet Greene's ears, "I spent ten years scrubbing your floors, Greene. Tonight and forever, you'll scrub mine."

"Please...Elle, for the sake of the beautiful..."

A slap left her hand directly on his face, and his face shifted, "Beautiful what?" She asked narrowing her gaze at her. "Remind me, what was ever beautiful about you?" 

"Take him away." 

The guards grabbed him and dragged him back as he shouted, begged, struggled, no one stepped in and no one spoke. Because the verdict had already been delivered and the room had accepted it. 

"That served him right, he was talking too much." Someone murmured from the crowd. 

"How could he insult Alpha Elara like that?" Another asked in a low tone. 

"But more importantly, what's the relationship between Elara and that man? What of Beatrice, she was here a while ago." 

"A lot is even happening because what is our almighty Silas doing on the floor?" 

"Where's Beatrice?" Elara asked, her gaze sweeping slowly across the crowd, sharp and searching. Her eyes didn't miss a single face. "Find her."

She didn't direct the order to anyone in particular, yet it carried enough authority that several guards and attendants immediately broke away, pushing through the guests.

Moments later, the sound came-

"Leave me alone! Let me go!!"

The protests grew louder, closer, until Beatrice was dragged forward and shoved roughly to the ground at Elara's feet.

A faint scoff slipped past Elara's lips as she looked down at her.

"You said you were what again?" she asked, her voice calm but cutting as she lowered herself slightly. Beatrice trembled under her gaze, panic written all over her face. "The President's daughter?"

"I-I didn't say that," Beatrice replied quickly, too quickly. Her voice shook as her eyes darted away, only to land on Silas, still on the floor, his body subtly writhing as he struggled to keep himself together.

Elara's eyes narrowed.

"What did you say?" she pressed, her tone dropping.

Before Beatrice could respond, a sharper, commanding wave of pheromones rolled in from behind. The crowd instinctively parted, creating a clear path.

The President.

And beside him, the Prime Minister.

"What is going on here?" Her father's voice rang out, firm and authoritative.

Beatrice scrambled to her feet instantly, rushing toward her father's side like a frightened child seeking protection.

The President's gaze swept past her, landing almost immediately on Silas, who was still trying, failing to stand upright.

"What is wrong with him?"

"Sick," Elara answered quickly, almost too quickly.

Calvin's eyes snapped to her face at once, suspicion flickering in their depths.

"I'm... I'm fine," Silas managed, his voice strained as he forced himself halfway up, only for his body to falter again. It looked less like weakness and more like something was pulling him apart from the inside.

"Why are you on a rampage?" the Prime Minister asked, irritation seeping into his tone as he glanced between Elara and his daughter.

Elara straightened, her expression cooling instantly. "Why? Am I not allowed to punish citizens who make mistakes in this country?"

"On your first day back?" he shot back. "Everyone is here to celebrate you, yet you choose to turn it into a spectacle in front of distinguished guests?"

Elara let out a soft, humorless snort. "If your daughter hadn't stolen my identity, I wouldn't have had a reason to."

A brief silence followed.

"And why would she steal your identity?" her father asked, his voice measured, but probing. "Did you think to ask her?"

Elara's fist clenched at her side.

Before she could respond, Calvin stepped forward, his gaze locking onto Beatrice.

"Why did you steal the Alpha's identity?" he asked bluntly.

Beatrice hesitated, her lips parting as her eyes flickered once again toward Silas.

"Because..." she began, her voice trembling just enough to sound convincing. "Because I'm in love with Silas."

A ripple went through the crowd.

"What?" Elara's brows furrowed, disbelief clear in her tone. "You're in love with Silas... and somehow that led to Greene?"

Even Silas, in his dazed state, seemed to register his name faintly, his expression tightening as if he were trying and failing to grasp the conversation happening around him.

"Who is Greene to you?" the Prime Minister asked smoothly, redirecting the narrative with practiced ease.

Beatrice straightened slightly, clinging to her story. "I'm telling the truth. I had to disguise myself... to make Silas jealous. That was the only way."

Soft laughter broke out across the room.

Whispers followed, all romantic, dramatic, and amusing.

The tension shifted.

"Well, that settles it, doesn't it?" the Prime Minister continued, his tone light but pointed. "We are family, Elara. Matters like this should be handled privately, not turned into entertainment for a crowd."

His gaze sharpened slightly. "Or did you lose your manners during your twelve-year... absence?"

The jab landed and Elara felt it-but didn't react.

Not outwardly.

The Prime Minister turned, placing a guiding hand on Beatrice's shoulder as he began to lead her away.

As she moved, Beatrice glanced back.

And smiled.

A small, sharp, victorious smile meant only for Elara.

"Take care of this," the President said, his tone quieter now but no less firm. "And meet me in my study tomorrow morning. You will explain everything."

Then he turned, following after the Prime Minister.

The crowd slowly began to settle, though the whispers hadn't stopped.

Elara exhaled slowly, the tension in her chest coiling tighter instead of easing.

Then she turned back to Silas. He was still watching her, still breathing unevenly, still affected, and this time, she didn't hesitate. 

She started toward him.

"What's wrong with him?" Calvin's voice cut in, stopping her mid-step.

Elara paused.

"Who?" she asked, though she already knew.

Calvin lifted his hand slightly, pointing.

"Silas."

"Him," Calvin said, his gaze fixed. "Why did he suddenly collapse?"

The question landed heavier than it should have.

Elara felt it not in her ears, but deeper, like something dropping straight into her stomach.

She swallowed, forcing herself to meet Calvin's eyes. Careful. Too careful. One wrong thought and he would hear it. The mind link between them wasn't something she could outrun.

So she didn't think, she reacted. 

"Why do you care?" she replied coolly. "You people overwork him in this place."

Calvin let out a short, humorless snort. He stepped forward but Elara moved just as quickly, blocking his path without hesitation.

"I'm not a fool, Elara," he said, voice low. "Silas doesn't just fall. Not like that."

His eyes flicked past her, landing on Silas, who was still barely holding himself upright, his breathing uneven, his body trembling despite his efforts to stay composed.

"An Alpha who can't withstand your pheromones?" Calvin continued. "That doesn't make sense. Isn't he supposed to be dominant?"

That word lingered in the air, very dominant and Elara felt it tighten something in her chest.  For a moment, just a moment, she saw it too clearly.

The way his body betrayed him, the way his scent had slipped out. The way he had collapsed... not from weakness, but from exposure.

It was too much.

"What exactly are you trying to say?" she asked, her tone sharpening as she faced him fully.

Calvin studied her, longer this time and more carefully. 

"I'm asking," he said slowly, "why you suddenly care so much."

He asked studying her even further,  "You disappeared for twelve years. Today is the first day you're back... and suddenly you're speaking for him? Defending him?"

His gaze narrowed slightly.

"That's not like you."

Elara didn't flinch. "Why?" she replied. "He's my bodyguard. His condition reflects on me. Of course, I'll take responsibility."

Calvin tilted his head slightly, unconvinced. "Responsibility?" he echoed. "For someone who suddenly has a 'condition' he's never had before?" 

"Suddenly he's your bodyguard? I thought I heard you telling Father you want him replaced." 

"Can still be replaced for his misconduct today." She replied, arms crossing her chest. 

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to piece it together.

"I've known Silas my whole life," he muttered. "Since the day our secondary sexes manifested. I've never seen him lose control. Not once."

His eyes flickered again toward Silas.

"And just now... I swear I caught something strange from him before he fell."

Elara's heart beat violently, then with a quiet assertion; "And you stepping in like this... doesn't help."

Elara's jaw tightened.

"Stay back," she said firmly. "I don't answer to you, Calvin."

For a moment, it looked like he might push further, say something sharper, but he didn't. He held it in and watched instead. That somehow was worse as Elara didn't give him another second before she turned back to Silas. 

Up close, it was worse than before.

His body was burning she could feel the heat radiating off him even without touching him. His breathing was shallow, uneven, like every inhale cost him something.

Without hesitation, she moved. She pulled his arm over her shoulder, steadying his weight against her.

He was heavy and very solid but with her strength and the subtle control of her pheromones anchoring him, it didn't slow her down.

"I can help with that," Calvin offered, stepping forward again.

Her eyes snapped to him instantly, a very sharp warning, very primal and final.

"Don't" from her mindlink. 

He stopped and just like that, he stayed back and actually watched as she led Silas away step by step. 

Until they disappeared beyond the crowd, swallowed by the long stretch of hallways.

Calvin remained where he stood, his expression unreadable. Then his right-hand man stepped closer.

"Sir-"

"Find out what's wrong with Silas," Calvin said quietly. His anger suddenly rising without real reason, "Now."

Without waiting for a response, he turned, already moving toward the inner halls, toward the President, toward politics, toward everything that suddenly felt... secondary. Maybe to discuss his betrothal with Elara or something more. His eyes flickered to the shadow of Elara and Silas moving farther and farther away. 

Elara moved quickly through the corridors, her grip steady on Silas as she searched for his room.

The deeper they went, the quieter it became and the silence reigning between them didn't help. It made everything worse, because there was nothing to distract her from his scent. 

It was everywhere, very thick, sweet, and warm. How could a man smell this good without cologne? But dangerously, it clung to her senses, slipped into her lungs, settled under her skin. 

For twelve years of suppressing herself, of dulling everything that made her what she was, she had forgotten how omegas smelled, forgotten how their pheromones reacted with hers. How they pulled and how they provoked, how they challenged her control in ways nothing else could. 

And now...now she was holding one, her grip tightened unconsciously...no...she needed to get him away fast. 

Finally, she stopped in front of a door. "This is it," she muttered under her breath.

She reached for the lock, but nothing. She tried again but nothing, still locked no matter how hard she tried. Of course, she doesn't know the password, guessing won't make the numbers suddenly appear in front of her. 

She exhaled sharply already losing her patience when suddenly...Silas's lips brushed against her neck. 

Her entire body stilled. A sharp, unfamiliar tension coiled deep in her stomach.

"Ugh..." he groaned softly, his voice slurred and strained. "My whole body... it's burning..."

Her senses snapped into overdrive. For a split second, she wasn't here, she was eighteen again standing in the dark. Hearing that same voice, smelling that same scent...seeing him...she blinked and forced herself back. 

"Silas," she said firmly, grounding herself. "What's the passcode?"

She didn't expect an answer from him, not in this state but she wanted to break away from something pulling softly inside of her. 

But he stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open, and when he looked at her, his weak, blurry eyes lit up.

"Is... that you?" he murmured, his voice softer now. "Elara...?"

Before she could react, his arms slid around her waist, pulling her closer. Her breath caught but she didn't move.

"Or... am I dreaming?" he whispered.

Elara didn't give herself time to think about it.

Thinking was dangerous and thinking meant remembering.

And remembering right now would be a mistake.

"The passcode," she repeated, more firmly this time.

He hummed faintly, his head dropping briefly against her shoulder.

"I missed you..." He mumbled, the words barely coherent.

Her expression hardened slightly. He's completely out of it.

"Silas," she pressed again. There's no point speaking to him in this state, she should hurriedly take him to her room. 

As she turned away heading towards her own private space, she heard; 

"1812," he said faintly forcing himself to breathe as if regaining consciousness for a brief moment. 

"That's... the code..."

His grip loosened slightly as his head tilted, voice fading.

"1812..."

The numbers lingered in the air like something fragile. 1812 

"It was that day...Elara..." He whispered, "You were eighteen...and I was twelve years old...do you remember?" 

Elara didn't give time to think about what he said, that's murder on her side. She didn't waste another second as she shifted her weight slightly, keeping Silas steady against her as she reached for the keypad. Her fingers moved quickly, pressing into the cold. A soft click followed and the door unlocked. 

She pushed it open with her shoulder, guiding Silas inside before kicking the door shut behind them.

The room was dimly lit, clean, precise, everything in its place. It felt like him, smelt like him, a man's room smelt so pretty. 

She barely made it two steps in before his weight gave out again. 

"Silas-"

He sagged against her, his grip tightening weakly around her waist as if she was the only thing holding him together.

"Don't..." he murmured, his voice barely there. "Don't let go..."

She was increasingly getting annoyed, dangerous and she ignored it as she tried to push towards the bed. 

"You're not in a position to make requests," she said, her tone firm, though quieter now. She guided him towards the bed, her pheromones barely anchoring her strength as it seemed to be draining out of her, his omega pheromones had seeped into hers so much that she was on the verge of losing control. 

But she managed, lowering him down carefully. The moment his back hit the mattress, he exhaled sharply, as the contact grounded him, if only a little. She looked at his shoes and began to take them off. 

But it didn't last before his body tensed again almost immediately, a low, strained sound slipping past his lips as his hands fisted into the sheets.

"Hot..." he breathed. "It's too much..."

Elara stood there for a second, watching and assessing him. Her own breath hitching...she could feel the pull in between her legs. Her pheromones are slowly turning against her. 

She looked away and when she looked back, he was already moving, tearing at himself like he was trying to escape his own skin. His bow tie came loose, discarded. Buttons followed, one after another, until his shirt fell open.

Don't go there, she turned away slightly, dragging a hand through her short hair, trying to think past the scent that was still wrapping around her like a trap. Or the exposure of skin in plain sight. 

Focus.

"What did they give you?" she asked, her voice sharper now as she looked back at him. She proceeded towards his drawer, to find anything...just any drug that could quell him.

"Silas."

That got something.

His gaze shifted, slowly finding her again. Locking onto her like instinct instead of thought.

"You're here..." he whispered.

Not answering the question, she wasn't even trying to, she was trying to save them both from something that's about to happen if not curbed. Her irritation grew as she ransacked through and increasingly found nothing.

She turned to him, her own sweat detailing how much wrong has started to take hold of her, "Listen to me," she said, her voice dropping, more controlled now. "You need to tell me where your suppressants are. My pheromones can't help you anymore, not now." 

"Why? They helped twelve years ago..." He said his lips parted slightly. "Do it as you did it last time, make it go away..." He said, while her eyes trailed the line on his neck, following the sweat that kept soaking into his chest and straight down to his abs. 

Her brows drew together sharply, her breathing cutting. 

"Your suppressants..." she insisted trying to create a distance but his hand whipped forward and gripped hers, pulling her towards himself, she landed on his body before she could even blink.

She seized. 

Silas's grip tightened instinctively around her wrist, like he was afraid she would disappear if he let go. The heat coming off his body was suffocating now, burning through the thin space between them.

"Elara..." he breathed, her name rough against his lips.

It wasn't just the way he said it. It was how his body reacted to her. Like she was the answer to something he couldn't fight anymore.

Her jaw clenched, "Let go."

But he didn't budge. Worse, she wasn't moving either.

Their pheromones had tangled somewhere between them, thick and volatile, feeding off each other in a way that made the air feel too tight, too charged to breathe.

Her Alpha roared beneath her skin, feral, aggressive, fighting to take over what little control she had left.

This wasn't good, it was dangerous. She could feel herself slipping. Melting into his grasp instead of resisting it.

Her breath hitched.

"No."  Elara shook her head sharply, as she could physically throw the feeling off, and grabbed his wrist, trying to pry his hand away from her.

"Let go," she repeated, more forcefully this time.

But Silas, who could barely stand minutes ago, didn't move, even an inch. His grip held unyieldingly firm. 

Her eyes flickered, something unsettled flashing through them.

"You heard me," she started, her voice tightening as she pulled harder, her strength pressing in now. "I said let..."

She didn't finish before his lips crashed into hers.