Zane

I don’t sleep. I haven’t in years. The insomniac Alpha. I’ve been called worse, but none of the labels really bother me anymore. They’re all meaningless. My name is Zane Ryker, and the night—my night—belongs to me. When you live as long as I have, you learn that sleep is just a weakness, a necessity of the young, the mortal. I’m neither. I’m an Alpha—three hundred years old, and I’ve conquered everything I’ve ever set my eyes on. But sleep, sleep eludes me, just as the last fragments of my humanity do.

The city below me is nothing but a sea of lights, shadows, and meaningless noise. The low hum of Lunaris, my kingdom in the heart of Nocturne City, reverberates through my bones as I sit in my office, overlooking it all. The music, the laughter, the subtle thrill of desperation and pleasure—it’s all in my control. I own the night. I own this city. No one dares to challenge me, and those who try? Well, they learn the hard way why I’ve remained untouchable for centuries.

I stand by the window, with my fingers drumming against the glass of the whiskey tumbler. My wolf is restless tonight. It’s the full moon’s effect. I can feel it stirring in my chest. It’s been dormant for so long, locked away by years of my own will, by the dark shadows of my past. I’ve buried it beneath layers of control, buried it beneath my human skin. But tonight, the beast is waking. It smells something.

My eyes narrow as I think of the flyer that was delivered to Lunaris earlier this evening. A simple slip of paper, but it sends a ripple through the air as though something ancient and primal has stirred in the depths of the world around me. “The City’s Fate,” the flyer reads in bold, clean letters, a single cryptic line etched beneath it. “The Prophecy Begins.”

A snarl curls in the back of my throat. Prophecies. I’ve never cared for them. Never needed to. For centuries, I’ve made my own fate. I decide what happens next, not some ancient scrolls or cryptic whispers of fate. But this… this is different.

I can feel it. The pull. The thread of destiny unraveling in the air, pulling at the very fabric of my being. Something dangerous is coming. And it’s going to happen in my city. My territory. I will not allow it.

A knock on the door and then Lucien enters, with another.

Lucien is my beta and has been with me for over three centuries now. We built Lunaris together and before employing anyone, I check them out to know if they're humans or wolves. I only allowed wolves to work for me.

The scent of something fresh, something unfamiliar, hits my nose then. It’s faint, but it’s there. Something weak, yet undeniable. My wolf growls, low and warning, instinctively marking the air with territorial dominance.

I turned to face them and I saw the prettiest boy I'd ever laid eyes on in three centuries.

He stood just behind Lucien, small around 5’7, very slim, and a wiry frame that spoke of hunger and hardship, yet there was an ethereal grace to the way he held himself.

His clothes were threadbare—faded jeans, a hoodie two sizes too big—but somehow, he didn’t look pitiful. He looked... untouchable. Like moonlight clinging to broken glass.

Then he looked up—and those eyes locked on mine.

Bright blue, sharp and clear. The kind of eyes that could quiet a riot or spark one. Wide, wary, and burning with something raw and unspoken.

My dick twitched.

WTH!!!

I haven't reacted like this to any woman, let alone a man.

Then his scent hit me, he was the one that I was scenting all along but there was something wrong with him. He smelled like a wolf but looked human–too human to be a wolf.

“You...” I started.

“Me?” the boy responded.

Lucien looked between us. He raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s new.”

His voice was as lovely as his face. I can't wait to hear him call my name.

Whoa–pause. Where the hell did that thought come from?

I stepped closer to examine the boy and then it hit me. An omega.

“You’re an omega,” I said.

“I’m a what?” the boy responded.

Lucien cursed under his breath. “Shit.”

It's been centuries since the last omega appeared. They were rare beings in our world unlike the one people talk about in books. They were dangerous.

I clenched my jaw. My voice dropped lower, more dangerous. “You don’t know?”

“No?” he said, taking a half-step back. “Look, I just came for a job, not a biology lesson.”

I stared a second longer, then turned away sharply.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I said tightly, his scent was tempting making me want to hold him there and mate him.

FUCK THE MOON.

“I am here,” he shot back. “And if this is some kind of weird interview test—”

“It’s not,” Lucien cut in smoothly. “You’re not supposed to exist.”

“Lucien,” I growled.

I stared at the boy like he was some ghost dredged up from the past—a relic, a myth, a curse wrapped in porcelain skin and ocean-deep eyes.

His scent still clung to the air, thick and intoxicating. My wolf pushed against my skin, claws scratching at the surface. It wanted out. It wanted him. Every instinct I’d buried centuries ago—the ones I smothered in blood, power, and whiskey—came roaring back like wildfire under my skin.

I hated it.

No—I hated how much I liked it.

“What's your name?” I asked.

“Jayden,” he started reluctantly. “Jayden Hart.”

“Jayden, which pack are you from?” I asked, voice tight, cold.

I needed to anchor myself in logic. Reason. This had to be some kind of trick. No one just walks into my club smelling like prophecy and desire and pretends to be clueless.

He blinked. “Pack?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Yes. Pack. Your Alpha. Your bloodline. Who do you belong to?”

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stammered, hugging himself. “I don’t belong to anyone. I’m not—whatever it is you think I am.”

Lucien let out a low whistle. “He’s not lying.”

I shot him a glare. “Shut up.”

Jayden looked like a deer cornered by wolves. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, clearly sensing the tension but not understanding it.

“I grew up downtown,” he said quietly. “Bounced around. No family. Nobody ever told me anything about packs or wolves or… or whatever this is. All I know is that I’ve been on the run since I was a teenager. Men in suits would show up, ask questions, and then bad things would happen.”

His voice cracked a little at the end, and my chest squeezed—squeezed, like a goddamn human’s.

I exhaled sharply, turning my back to him before I did something irrational. Like scent-mark him in front of Lucien.

Get a grip, Ryker.

“This doesn’t make sense,” I muttered, pacing. “You can’t be an omega. Not now. Not like this.”

Jayden let out a nervous laugh. “Trust me, I agree. Whatever that is, you’ve got the wrong guy. I’m just a broke, desperate nobody looking for a barback gig, okay?”

But the air disagreed with him. The moon disagreed with him.

My wolf snarled, and I clenched my jaw until I tasted blood. “You’re not nobody. And you’re not just human. Your scent—your existence—is rewriting the room.”

Lucien leaned against the wall, arms folded, eyes unreadable. “He’s triggering the shift in you. You haven’t shifted in decades. Not since…” He trailed off, but the silence said enough.

Not since the massacre.

I inhaled deeply through my nose. Wrong move. His scent hit me again—wild and warm and pure temptation. Like lightning bottled in soft skin and defiance.

I turned back to him, slower this time, measured. He flinched slightly.

“I need to see your back,” I said.

“What?”

“You heard me.” I stepped forward. “Turn around. Now.”

“No—why? What are you talking about?” He backed up until he hit the edge of the desk, eyes wide.

“The mark. Omegas are born with a sigil—something ancient, embedded in the skin. It usually stays dormant unless triggered by proximity to a fated Alpha.”

He froze. “A what?”

I didn’t answer. I stepped closer.

He didn’t move away this time. He had no space to.

Slowly, hesitantly, he turned and tugged up the back of his oversized hoodie. My breath caught.

There it was.

Faint, like ink bleeding through paper—an old rune curled low between his shoulder blades. Almost invisible… but glowing faintly in the moonlight slanting through my window.

Real.

Lucien cursed again. “We’re fucked.”

I said nothing. I just stared.

It wasn’t just the mark. It wasn’t just the scent or the trembling soul-deep pull between us. It was the marks on his body, the one on his shoulder looked like a new wound.

“Who did this to you?” I asked, my alpha power oozing off.