Chapter 3: Claim Spoken, Then Taken Back

The storm did not creep in quietly.

It arrived like a declaration thunder slamming against the sky, rain lashing the streets of Highcrest City with unrestrained fury. Wind howled through the narrow alley behind the cafe, rattling the windows hard enough to make the hanging lights sway. Inside, Ari worked alone.

He moved slowly, mop gliding across the tiled floor, the scent of cleaning solution barely masking the lingering warmth of coffee and pastries. The cafe was closed chairs flipped onto tables, lights dimmed low but Ari’s instincts refused to settle.

His chest felt tight.

He hummed under his breath, a nervous habit he hated, trying to drown out the unease crawling up his spine. Omegas were taught to trust their senses, and his were screaming. Something was wrong.

Ari paused mid-stroke. The mop dripped water onto the floor, the sound echoing far too loudly in the quiet space. His skin prickled, fine hairs rising along his arms. The storm outside wasn’t the problem.

It was the air.

The lights flickered once. Twice.

Ari swallowed.

Then he smelled it.

Not the sharp, commanding scent he’d come to associate with Riven Kaelthorne storm and iron and absolute control. This was different.

Sour. Aggressive. Unchecked.

Alpha.

Ari’s heart slammed against his ribs as the lock on the front door clicked.

“No,” he whispered.

Before he could move, the door burst open, slamming into the wall with enough force to crack the frame. Rainwater splashed across the floor as three Alphas stepped inside, soaked, broad shouldered, eyes gleaming with unmistakable intent.

Predators.

Ari backed away instinctively, the counter pressing cold and solid into his spine.

The leader’s gaze dragged over him slowly, possessively, a smirk curling his lips. “Well, would you look at that,” he said. “A sweet little unmated Omega, all alone in the middle of a storm.”

Ari forced his shaking hands to still. “You need to leave,” he said, lifting his chin. “The cafe is closed.”

The Alpha chuckled, deep and mocking. “We didn’t come for coffee.”

The other two laughed softly, circling.

Ari’s pulse roared in his ears. He knew this type rogues who slipped through the city’s defenses, hunting Omegas who didn’t have pack protection. Highcrest was safer than most places, but safety was never absolute.

He shifted sideways, fingers inching toward the emergency alarm beneath the counter.

The leader noticed.

He lunged. Ari screamed.

And the world changed.

The air shuddered.

Not thunder. Not wind.

An Alpha presence slammed into the room like an invisible force, so overwhelming it stole the breath from Ari’s lungs. Power flooded the cafe, dense and suffocating, pressing down on instinct itself.

The rogues froze. Their eyes went wide, bodies locking as submission instincts tore through them violently.

The leader staggered back. “No,” he whispered hoarsely. “That scent no, it can’t be.”

The door behind them ripped free of its hinges, Metal shrieked, Wood splintered and Riven Kaelthorne stepped inside.

Rain slid off his coat like it feared touching him. His golden eyes burned in the dim light, glowing with cold fury. The storm outside seemed to bend around him, as if even nature knew better than to challenge his authority.

His scent pine soaked in rain, iron and command obliterated every other Alpha presence in the room.

He looked at the rogues the way one might look at insects. “Step away from him,” Riven said.

Not shouted. Not rushed.

Low. Controlled. Absolute.

The rogues tried. Their bodies betrayed them.

One stumbled toward the door. Another raised his hands in a useless gesture of surrender.

Riven moved. It wasn’t a fight. It was a correction.

He disarmed the first Alpha with brutal efficiency, twisting his arm until the man collapsed with a choked cry. The second hit the floor moments later, knocked unconscious before he could even react. The leader lasted the longest barely but Riven dropped him with a single, devastating blow that left him unmoving.

Seconds. That was all it took.

When silence fell, rain dripping through the ruined doorway, Riven straightened his coat as if mildly inconvenienced. Pathetic, his expression said.

Then he turned.

Ari was still pressed against the counter, chest heaving, eyes wide.

Riven’s gaze softened just barely. The lethal edge dulled, replaced by something darker. Possessive. Assessing.

He crossed the room in three strides. “Ari,” he said, voice rougher now. Different. “Are you injured?”

Ari tried to answer.

His knees gave out instead.

Riven caught him easily, one arm wrapping around Ari’s back, hauling him upright against his chest like he weighed nothing. “Careless,” Riven muttered not at Ari, but at the world. “Leaving you alone during a storm.”

Ari clutched Riven’s coat, trembling. “I I’m fine,” he said weakly. “Just shaken.”

Riven looked him over anyway, fingers firm on Ari’s shoulders, tilting his chin with infuriating authority. “You call this fine?” he said coolly. “Your pulse is racing. You’re pale. And you smelled the danger before it even entered the room.”

Ari frowned faintly. “You didn’t have to sound so..superior about it.”

Riven snorted. “I absolutely did.”

Ari blinked at him.

Riven’s mouth curved not quite a smile. “Those Alphas thought they could walk in here and take what didn’t belong to them,” he said. “Idiots. Anyone with half a functioning instinct could smell you’re under protection.”

Ari’s breath caught. “Protection?”

Riven leaned closer, voice dropping. “Mine.”

Ari’s heart stuttered. “Then why do you keep pretending you don’t care?” For a heartbeat, Riven hesitated.

Just one.

Then his jaw set, arrogance sliding back into place like armor. “Because caring is irrelevant,” he said dismissively. “What matters is reality.”

“And what’s that?” Ari whispered.

Riven’s eyes burned gold as he answered, tone condescending, unyielding, certain.

“That no one touches what’s mine,” he said. “Not in my city. Not in my presence. Not ever.”

Ari swallowed hard. “You make it sound like I don’t get a say.”

Riven’s thumb brushed Ari’s wrist, right over his pulse. “You do,” he said coolly. “But destiny already made its choice. I’m simply acknowledging it.”

Thunder cracked overhead.

Ari looked up at him, fear and longing tangled tight in his chest. “Because you’re mine,” Riven said.

Silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable.

Ari was still clinging to Riven’s coat when the shift happened. The warmth in Riven’s presence what little of it there had been cooled abruptly, like a door slamming shut. His grip loosened, then vanished entirely.

Ari swayed.

Riven stepped back.

Just like that.

No reassurance. No lingering touch. No explanation.

Ari stared up at him, confused. “Riven..?”

Riven’s golden eyes flicked away first. The arrogance returned in full force, settling into his posture, straight-backed and untouchable. Whatever instinct had driven him through the storm, whatever possessive fury had erupted moments ago, was now buried beneath layers of control.

“You’re unharmed,” Riven said flatly. “That’s all that matters.”

Ari’s chest tightened. “You said..”

“I said what was necessary to stop them,” Riven cut in coolly. “Don’t assign meaning where there is none.”

The words landed like a slap.

Ari’s fingers curled into his palms. “You called me yours.”

Riven turned toward the unconscious Alphas instead, as if Ari were no longer part of the room. “They’re rogues,” he said, voice bored. “Imposters pretending they belong in this city. I’ll hand them over to enforcement.” Imposters.

That was what he focused on. Not the Omega still shaking behind him.

Riven crouched, hauling the leader to his feet with brutal efficiency. The Alpha groaned, barely conscious. Riven didn’t spare him more than a glance.

“You picked the wrong territory,” Riven said coldly. “And the wrong Omega.”

He dragged the Alpha toward the ruined doorway, then paused only long enough to snap his fingers sharply.

The other two Alphas stirred, instinctively responding despite their injuries. They scrambled upright, fear radiating off them in waves.

“Move,” Riven ordered.

They obeyed.

Ari took a step forward without thinking. “Riven are you just going to leave?” Riven didn’t turn.

Rain poured in through the open doorway, wind whipping his coat as he hauled the rogues outside. Thunder rolled overhead, loud enough to rattle the shelves.

“You’ll report the damage to the Council,” Riven said over his shoulder, tone distant. “They’ll compensate you.”

“That’s it?” Ari demanded, hurt sharpening his voice. “After everything?”

Riven stopped at the threshold.

For a moment just one Ari thought he might look back.

He didn’t.

“You’re safer if you forget tonight ever happened,” Riven said coolly. “And forget whatever you think you felt.” Then he stepped into the storm.

Rain swallowed him instantly, soaking his dark silhouette as he marched the rogues down the street like prisoners. His presence still dominated the night, unmistakable even from a distance but it was closed off now. Untouchable. Riven Kaelthorne never looked back.

Ari stood alone in the wrecked café, rainwater creeping across the floor, the scent of Alpha authority slowly fading from the air. His heart ached with the sudden emptiness left behind.

He wrapped his arms around himself, trembling not from fear this time, but from something far worse.

Rejection.

Outside, the storm raged on and somewhere in the darkness, Riven walked away, convinced that distance and arrogance would be enough to silence destiny, unaware that ignoring an Omega did not erase a bond.

It only delayed the reckoning.