“You’ve got ten seconds to vanish before I snap your spine like a dry twig,” Dominic growled.

He didn’t just stand there; he loomed. His shoulders, thick with the kind of muscle only an Alpha-born NFL star could carry, blocked out the streetlights. Jess Whitman felt the heat radiating off him, a stark contrast to the numbing cold Michael Reynolds had left in her chest.

Michael skidded to a halt, his chest heaving, his expensive pre-med scrubs rumpled. He looked small. For two years, Jess had seen him as a giant, the brilliant future doctor who loved her despite her lack of a wolf. Now, standing next to Dominic Hale, Michael looked like a mangy pup.

“Jess, who the hell is this?” Michael panted, his eyes darting between her tear-streaked face and Dominic’s lethal glare. “Is this why you were in the closet? To set me up? You brought some muscle?”

“I brought a reality check, Michael,” Jess spat, her voice cracking but holding steady. She stepped out from the circle of Dominic’s protective aura, her small fists clenched at her sides. “I was in that closet in lingerie I bought to surprise you. Instead, I got to watch you knotting Vanessa Price. How’s that for a surprise?”

Michael’s face drained of color, then flushed a guilty, mottled red. “Jess, babe, look—it’s a wolf thing. You wouldn’t understand. She’s an Omega, her scent was everywhere, and you… you don’t even have a scent. I have needs that a human-passing girl just can’t—”

Dominic’s hand shot out, his fingers locking onto the collar of Michael’s shirt. He hauled the smaller man off his feet with a single, effortless jerk. The sound of tearing fabric punctuated the silence.

“Don't you dare blame your lack of honor on the Moon,” Dominic hissed, his voice dropping into that low, sub-vocal vibration that made the air tremble. His eyes, usually a sharp, piercing blue, flickered with a dangerous gold. “She’s a Whitman. Her blood is purer than yours will ever be. You’re a bottom-feeder, Reynolds. If I ever see you within a mile of her again, I won’t just break your nose. I’ll make sure you never walk again.”

“Put me down! You can’t do this, I’ll call the Council!” Michael clawed at Dominic’s hand, his feet dangling.

“Call them,” Dominic invited, his smile a serrated edge of teeth. “Tell them you insulted the sister of three Alpha-tier warriors while cheating on her. See who they side with.”

He dropped Michael like a bag of trash. Michael hit the pavement with a grunt, scrambled to his feet, and bolted back toward the apartment complex without looking back.

Jess let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The adrenaline was fading, leaving her hollow. “You didn't have to do that, Dom.”

“I did,” he said, turning back to her. The golden tint in his eyes faded, replaced by a raw, unshielded intensity. He reached out, his thumb catching a stray tear on her cheek. His skin was scorching. “He’s a waste of breath. Let’s get you out of here.”

He led her to the midnight-blue sports car. The engine didn't just turn over; it roared like a caged beast.

“Where are we going?” Jess asked, sinking into the leather seat. It smelled like him—sandalwood, rain, and power.

“My place,” Dominic said, shifting into gear. “The press is all over my hotel because of the photoshoot. My penthouse is the only place in the city that’s truly secure. No one gets in without my thumbprint.”

“Dominic, I can’t stay at your place. If Jonathan or Marcus find out, they’ll lose their minds. They already think I’m too fragile because I haven’t shifted.”

“Let them. I’ll handle your brothers,” he said, his jaw set. “And stop saying you’re fragile. You punched a shifter and stood your ground. You’re a Whitman. Shifting doesn’t make you a wolf, Jess. This does.” He tapped his chest, right over his heart.

The drive was fast. Dominic drove the way he played—aggressive, precise, and completely in control. When they reached the penthouse, he didn't wait for her to open her door. He was there, his hand reaching for hers, pulling her into the private elevator.

The doors slid open to a space that was all glass and dark wood, overlooking the glowing sprawl of the city. Jess walked to the window, her reflection ghost-like against the glass. “Michael said I was boring. He said he’d been looking for a way out for months.”

“He was looking for an excuse for his own weakness,” Dominic’s voice was right behind her.

She turned, and he was there. He hadn't turned on the lights. The city skyline provided the only glow, casting long, dramatic shadows across his chiseled face. He looked at her like he wanted to devour her and protect her all at once.

“Is that why you’re here, Dom? Pity? Taking care of your best friend’s little sister?”

“Pity?” Dominic let out a low, dark laugh. He stepped into her space, forcing her back against the glass. He placed his hands on the window on either side of her head, pinning her. “I’ve stayed away from the Whitman house for two years because of you, Jess. Because every time I saw you, the wolf inside me wanted to claim you. Because watching you with that pathetic excuse for a man made my blood boil.”

Jess’s breath hitched. “You’re serious.”

“I don’t joke about this,” he whispered, his face inches from hers. “I’m the Northstar Alpha’s heir. I have everything. Fame, money, power. And none of it matters if I can’t have the one thing I actually want.”

His hand slid from the window into her hair, his fingers tangling in the strands, tilting her head back. His gaze dropped to her lips.

“Dom,” she breathed, her heart hammering.

He didn't wait. He crashed his mouth onto hers.

It was a collision, not a kiss. It was the release of years of restraint. Jess didn't pull away; she met him with a desperate hunger of her own. She needed to feel something other than the cold ache of betrayal. She needed the fire he was offering.

Dominic groaned, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated into her lungs. He swept her up, her legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. He carried her toward the massive bed in the center of the room, never breaking the kiss.

He dropped her onto the silk sheets and followed her down, his heavy, muscular frame a welcome weight. He was everywhere—his hands, his mouth, his scent. He ripped his shirt off, the fabric fluttering to the floor, revealing a torso of sculpted muscle and old battle scars.

“I’ve wanted this since the day you turned eighteen,” he panted, his teeth grazing her collarbone.

He didn't waste time with words. He stripped her clothes away with a frantic, focused energy. When she was bare beneath him, he paused, his eyes glowing gold again as he took her in. His hand slid down her body, his palm hot against her belly, moving lower until he found the center of her heat.

“You’re so ready for me,” he groaned, his fingers finding her slick and pulsing.

“Please,” Jess begged, her back arching off the bed. “Dominic, now.”

He reached for his belt, his movements a blur of controlled violence. When he moved back over her, Jess felt the sheer size of him, the raw power of an Alpha in his prime. He positioned himself, the head of his cock brushing against her entrance, teasing her until she was sobbing his name.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice a rasp.

She opened her eyes, seeing the gold, seeing the man who had been her silent guardian for a decade.

He drove into her in one deep, punishing thrust.

Jess’s scream was muffled by his mouth as he kissed her again. He was huge, stretching her, filling her in a way that felt like soul-deep completion. He didn't move for a moment, letting her body adjust to the invasion, his muscles corded and shaking with the effort of holding back.

“You okay?” he gasped.

“Don’t stop,” she cried, her nails raking down his back, drawing thin lines of red. “Dom, please, move!”

He began to thrust, a slow, heavy grind that sent sparks of white-hot pleasure through her nerves. He wasn't being gentle. He was claiming her. Each strike was deep, hitting her most sensitive spots, making her vision blur. He transitioned to a faster, more brutal pace, his hips slamming against hers with a rhythmic, wet sound that filled the room.

“You’re mine,” he growled into her ear, his breath hot. “Not Michael’s. Not your brothers’. Mine.”

Jess couldn't speak. She could only feel. The friction was building, a coil of lightning tightening in her core. She threw her head back, her throat bared, her legs locking around his waist to pull him even deeper.

Dominic’s pace became frantic. He flipped her over, pulling her onto her hands and knees. He gripped her hips, his fingers bruising her skin, and drove into her from behind. The change in angle was devastating. Jess screamed, her hands clutching the sheets as he pounded into her, his knot beginning to swell, demanding the final release.

“Dom! Dom, I’m—I’m going to—”

“Give it to me,” he roared, his voice more wolf than man.

The orgasm hit her like a physical blow. Her internal muscles clamped down on him, milking him, as the world exploded in a kaleidoscope of heat. A second later, Dominic let out a primal howl, his body tensing into a rigid arc as he poured himself into her, his knot locking them together in the ancient, unbreakable bond of their kind.

He collapsed on top of her, his sweat-slicked chest heaving against her back. He stayed inside her, the weight of him grounding her, the lingering warmth of their union humming in the air.

Neither of them spoke for a long time. The only sound was the hum of the city and their syncing breaths.

Eventually, Dominic rolled off, pulling her into his arms. He tucked her head under his chin, his hand stroking her arm. Jess felt a strange, new sensation—a low, rhythmic thrumming in her own chest. For the first time, she felt her inner wolf stir, nudged awake by the Alpha’s power.

“You should sleep,” Dominic whispered.

“I don’t think I can,” Jess murmured, though her eyes were heavy.

Just as her eyelids began to flutter shut, a sharp, electronic chime cut through the silence.

Dominic reached for his phone on the nightstand. His face went stone-cold as he read the screen.

“What is it?” Jess asked, sitting up, the sheet clutched to her chest.

Dominic turned the phone around. It was a message from a private pack frequency. A photo of his car parked outside Michael’s apartment, followed by a photo of him carrying Jess into the penthouse.

The caption read: The Alpha’s heir has a new pet. Does the Whitman family know their ‘human’ sister is sleeping with the enemy?

The sender was Vanessa Price.

And below the message, a notification popped up.

Incoming Call: Jonathan Whitman.

“Oh, fuck,” Jess whispered.

“You're finally single.”

Dominic’s words weren't a comfort; they were a claim. The interior of the SUV felt small, thick with the scent of his arousal and the heavy, metallic tang of the predator he kept on a short leash. Jess Whitman didn't move. She couldn't. Her pulse thrashed against the skin of her throat, a frantic bird caught in the sights of a hawk.

“You're an arrogant prick, Dominic Hale,” Jess bit out, though the fire in her tone was damp. “I just watched my life implode. I’ve got Michael’s scent all over me like a goddamn stain, and you’re sitting there doing math on my availability?”

Dominic shifted. The leather of the driver's seat groaned under his bulk. He didn't look at the road. He looked at her, his blue eyes fracturing into shards of gold in the dim light of the dashboard. “I’m not doing math, Jess. I’m stating a fact. That pathetic excuse for a wolf never deserved the ground you walked on. He wanted a plaything. I want a mate.”

“Don't use that word,” she snapped, her knuckles white as she gripped the door handle. “I’m wolfless. A glitch in the Whitman line. You're an Alpha heir. You need a queen with claws, not a girl who has to carry a pocketknife to feel safe.”

“Is that what you think?” Dominic’s voice dropped, a low, tectonic rumble that made the floorboards vibrate. He reached out, his hand wrapping around the back of her neck. His palm was a brand, searing hot. “You think a shift determines worth? I’ve seen Omegas with more bite than Council Alphas. You? You’ve got a furnace in your head and ice in your veins. You’re more wolf than Michael Reynolds will ever be.”

“Let go, Dom. My brothers are probably already tracking my phone.”

“Let them track it. Let Jonathan howl until his lungs burst.” Dominic’s thumb stroked the sensitive skin behind her ear, a gesture so possessive it made her toes curl. “I’ve spent a decade playing the loyal friend. I’ve sat at your table, drank your brothers' beer, and watched you look at every man in the room except me. That ends tonight.”

“We’re at my building,” she whispered, desperate to break the spell. “I’m going up. Alone.”

“The hell you are.”

Dominic killed the engine. The silence that followed was heavy, pressurized. He moved with a speed that defied his size, rounding the car and ripping her door open before she could even reach for the latch. He didn't offer a hand; he reached in and hauled her out, his grip firm on her waist.

“I can walk!” Jess hissed, shoving at his chest. It was like pushing against a brick wall.

“You’re shaking so hard your knees are going to give out,” he growled, ushering her toward the lobby. “Upstairs. Now.”

The elevator ride was a torture of proximity. Dominic stood behind her, his heat radiating through her hoodie, his breath stirring the loose hairs at the nape of her neck. Jess stared at the floor, her mind a chaotic mess of Michael’s betrayal and Dominic’s sudden, overwhelming presence.

The moment they stepped inside her apartment, the air changed. It was small—a student’s place, shared with Emily Parker, who was thankfully out for the night.

“Ice,” Dominic commanded, pointing toward the kitchen.

“I can get my own ice,” Jess snapped, but he was already there, his large frame making her tiny kitchen look like a dollhouse. He grabbed a towel, filled it with cubes, and turned back to her.

“Sit.”

She sat at the small wooden table. He knelt between her knees, a position of service that felt dangerously like a trap. He took her hand—the one she’d used to deck Michael—and pressed the ice pack against her swollen knuckles.

“Fuck,” she winled, the cold biting into her skin.

“Steady,” he murmured. He didn't look up. He focused on her hand, his touch surprisingly light. “He’s lucky I didn't rip his throat out, Jess. The only reason he’s still breathing is because you asked me to leave it.”

“I don't need a hero, Dom. I need a shower.”

“You need to realize that you’re not alone.” He finally looked up. The gold in his eyes was vivid now, the mark of a wolf pushing to the surface. “You’ve spent your whole life trying to prove you don't need anyone because the pack treats you like a liability. You’re not a liability to me. You’re a prize.”

Jess felt the tears coming again, and she hated it. She hated being vulnerable, especially in front of him. “Stop it. Just… stop being nice to me. It’s worse than the yelling.”

“I’m not being nice.” Dominic stood up, pulling her with him. The ice pack thudded to the floor. He didn't care. He backed her against the refrigerator, his hands pinning her shoulders. “I’m being honest. I want you, Jess Whitman. I’ve wanted you since you were eighteen and walked into that New Year’s party looking like a goddamn revolution.”

“My brothers will kill you,” she breathed, her heart slamming against her ribs.

“Let them try.”

He leaned in, his nose brushing hers. The scent of him—smoke, cedar, and raw Alpha—drowned out the world. “Tell me you don't want this. Tell me you don't feel the way the air thrums when we’re in the same room. Tell me Michael is the only one who gets to touch you.”

“I hate you,” she whispered, but her hands were already sliding up his chest, finding the hard, corded muscle beneath his shirt.

“Liar.”

He crushed his mouth to hers.

It wasn't a question. It was a demand. Dominic tasted like dark coffee and desperation. His tongue swept into her mouth, claiming her with a ferocity that made Jess’s head spin. She groaned, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her back arching as he pulled her flush against him.

He was hard—unforgivingly so—pressing into her belly through his jeans. The contrast was a shock; the star quarterback, the disciplined icon, losing his mind over a wolfless girl in a cramped kitchen.

Dominic’s hands slid down, gripping her thighs and hoisting her up. Jess wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his lower back. He carried her toward the bedroom, his mouth never leaving hers.

He dropped her onto the bed, the mattress groaning. Before she could catch her breath, he was on top of her. He ripped his shirt over his head, the fabric tearing in his haste. His chest was a landscape of scars and power, his wolf tattoo shifting with the movement of his muscles.

“You're mine tonight,” he growled, his voice a low, animal rasp.

He didn't wait for her to undress. He yanked her hoodie over her head, then her leggings, leaving her in the black lace she’d worn for another man. His eyes darkened until they were almost black.

“He saw you in this?” Dominic’s voice was lethal.

“No,” Jess panted. “He didn't. I was in the closet. I saw him, he didn't see me.”

“Good.” Dominic’s hand slid between her thighs, his fingers finding her already soaked. “Because I’m the only one who gets to see you like this. Ever again.”

He moved with a frantic, messy hunger. He didn't care about grace. He cared about possession. He entered her with one deep, violent surge that knocked the air from her lungs. Jess screamed, her head hitting the pillow, her eyes rolling back as he filled her to the absolute limit.

“Dom!” she cried out, her fingers clawing at his arms.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his sweat dripping onto her skin. “See who’s inside you, Jess. See who’s claiming you.”

He began to move, his thrusts short and brutal. He was pounding into her, his hips slamming against hers with a rhythmic, wet sound that echoed in the small room. It wasn't the polite, careful sex she’d had with Michael. This was a breaking. A rebuilding.

Jess’s body responded with a violence of its own. She met every thrust, her hips tilting up, her teeth bared. The pleasure was too much, a jagged lightning bolt that threatened to shatter her.

“More,” she sobbed, her legs tightening around him. “Please, Dom, more.”

He flipped her over, dragging her to the edge of the bed. He stood on the floor, pulling her hips to him, and drove in from behind. The angle was deeper, hitting a spot that made Jess’s vision go white. He gripped her waist so hard his fingers left bruises, his chest heaving as he poured everything he had into her.

“Mine,” he groaned, the word a physical weight. “Always… fucking… mine.”

The climax hit her like an explosion. Jess’s internal muscles clamped down on him, sending her into a convulsing, screaming release. Dominic roared, his body jerking as he came, his knot swelling and locking them together in the ancient, biological bond.

He collapsed over her, his heavy frame crushing her into the mattress. They stayed like that for minutes, the only sound their ragged breathing and the ticking of the clock on the nightstand.

Slowly, the weight of reality began to settle. The heat faded into a stinging, lingering warmth. Jess felt the literal weight of his body—the raw, 3D reality of a man who could destroy her world just as easily as he’d mended it tonight.

Dominic rolled to his side, pulling her into his arm. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed on the floor where he’d dropped his jeans. He ignored it. It buzzed again. And again.

He reached down, his face hardening as he looked at the screen.

“What?” Jess asked, her voice raspy.

Dominic didn't answer. He turned the phone toward her. It was a group chat. The Whitman brothers.

Jonathan: Dominic, why is your car at Jess’s place? And why aren't you answering your goddamn phone?

Marcus: I’m five minutes out. If you’ve touched her, Hale, NFL contract or not, I’m putting you in the ground.

Jess looked at the door. Then at Dominic.

“They're here,” she whispered.

A heavy fist pounded on the front door, the wood splintering under the force of an Alpha’s rage.

“HALE! OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR!” Jonathan’s roar shook the walls.

Dominic stood up, reaching for his pants, a dark, dangerous smile playing on his lips. “I guess it’s time to tell them.”

"What the hell took you so long?" Emily Parker's voice sliced through the heavy silence of the apartment as the lock clicked. She wasn't just my roommate; she was the only person who didn't look at me like a cracked piece of glass.

"Michael happened," Jess said, her voice like gravel. She tossed her keys onto the scarred wooden table. "Or rather, Vanessa Price happened to be riding him like a stolen motorcycle in his bedroom."

Emily’s jaw hit the floor. She dropped the magazine she’d been clutching—a glossy rag with Dominic Hale on the cover, looking every bit the Alpha star he was. "You’re joking. Tell me you’re joking, Jess. Michael? The 'perfect' future Pack Doctor?"

"I wish." Jess pulled the oversized hoodie tighter around her frame, hiding the black lace that felt like a shroud now. "I was in the closet. Literally. Saw the whole show. Every disgusting, knotted second of it."

"Oh, Jess. Fuck. What did you do?"

"I broke his nose. Then I left." Jess walked into the kitchen, her hands still trembling. "And then Dominic Hale picked me up from the sidewalk."

"Wait, back up." Emily followed her, her eyes wide. "The Northstar Alpha’s heir? The man who hasn't stepped foot in this pack's territory for two years? That Dominic?"

"He was in town for some shoot. Heard me crying on the phone—I dialed him by mistake, Em. I thought I was calling Jonathan." Jess leaned against the counter, the cool granite biting into her palms. "He hauled Michael off the ground like he was a bag of trash. He almost shifted right there on the street."

Emily whistled, leaning against the doorframe. "Well, if you're going to have an audience for your breakup, it might as well be the most powerful wolf in the country. Did he... you know... try anything?"

"He's an arrogant prick," Jess snapped, but her face flushed. The memory of his heat in the car, the way his scent had practically colonized her lungs, made her stomach do a slow, traitorous roll. "He told me I was finally single. Like I was a trophy he’d been waiting to bid on."

"He's always looked at you like that, Jess. Since we were kids." Emily picked up the magazine again, pointing at Dominic’s smoldering gaze. "Look at the glisten. The man is a literal thirst trap. He’s been your brothers’ best friend since forever, but the way he stares at you during pack runs? That isn't 'family friend' energy. That’s 'I want to claim you' energy."

"He was my first kiss, Em. You know this. Fourteen years old in a closet during seven minutes in heaven. He tasted like peppermint and trouble." Jess let out a jagged laugh. "Jonathan caught us before things got interesting, and Dom hasn't been able to look my brothers in the eye since. He’s a man-slut, anyway. He’s got a date tonight with some pop star."

"Yeah, well, he’s not here with her. He was with you."

The phone on the counter buzzed, a sharp, angry vibration. Jess looked down.

Michael: Jess, please. It was an accident. My wolf just took over.

Michael: I love you. Don't throw two years away because of one mistake. Answer me!

Michael: Fine! Be a bitch about it. See if any other wolf wants a girl who can't even grow fur.

"What an absolute piece of shit," Emily growled, reading over Jess's shoulder. "Block him. Now."

"Done." Jess swiped the screen, the finality of the action feeling like a punch to the gut. She walked into her bedroom and shut the door. She stripped off the hoodie, the lace underneath mocking her. She reached into her drawer and pulled out an old, faded jersey. It had 'HALE' printed across the back in bold, white letters. Dominic’s mother had sent it to her after his first pro game. It was soft, smelling of home and a safety she didn't feel anymore. She slid it on, the hem hitting mid-thigh.

"New hair, new Jess," Emily declared the next morning, dragging her toward the door. "You are not moping. Ethan Cole called. There’s a party tonight at the lake house. The whole circle is going to be there."

"I don't want to see my brothers, Em. They'll know. They always know."

"Then we make sure they're too busy looking at your new look to ask questions."

The salon was a blur of chemical smells and the snip of scissors. When Jess looked in the mirror, she didn't see the 'delicate' Whitman sister anymore. The sharp bob and the defiant glint in her eyes made her look like a wolf ready to hunt.

"Perfect," Emily whispered. "Now, let's go get wasted."

The lake house was thumping with bass by the time they arrived. The scent of cheap beer and shifting pheromones was thick. Ethan Cole, a soccer star whose leg was currently in a brace, hobbled over to them with a grin. He was one of the few who treated Jess like an equal, probably because he spent half his time sidelined by injuries himself.

"Whitman! You look dangerous," Ethan said, handing her a plastic cup. "I heard Reynolds is sporting a very crooked nose today. Care to comment?"

"He tripped," Jess said, taking a long pull of the lukewarm liquid. "Repeatedly. Into my fist."

"Atta girl." Ethan leaned in, his voice dropping. "Just a heads up, though. Your brothers are in the back. And they aren't alone."

Jess followed his gaze. In the corner, surrounded by a crowd of fawning omegas and aspiring warriors, sat Dominic Hale. He looked bored until his eyes found hers across the room. The air between them suddenly felt like it was charged with high-voltage electricity.

He stood up, ignoring the girl draped over his arm, and started walking toward her. Every wolf in the room went silent as the Alpha heir cut through the crowd like a shark through water.

"Jess," he said, his voice a low, possessive rumble.

"Dominic," she countered, her heart hammering against her ribs.

He reached out, his fingers brushing the new, sharp edge of her hair. "I told you. A queen."

But before she could respond, the front door burst open. Jonathan and Marcus stepped in, their eyes scanning the room. When they saw Dominic standing over their sister, their scents turned sharp and aggressive.

"Hale!" Jonathan roared, his knuckles cracking as he shifted partially, his claws peeking out. "Get your hands off my sister. Now!"

Dominic didn't flinch. He didn't even turn around. He just leaned closer to Jess, his breath hot against her ear. "Watch this."

"She's with me tonight, Whitman," Dominic said, finally turning to face her brothers, his eyes glowing a lethal, solid gold. "And if you want her back, you're going to have to go through me."

The room erupted into snarls. Jess looked at Dominic, then at her brothers. The "delicate" life she had known was officially over.