The storm beneath her skin

Kieran

Power tastes like blood.

I drop Alex’s lifeless body and let it thud to the floor like the trash he is. Whatever title he once held is gone—along with his relevance.

The pack is mine now.

The air in the conference room is heavy, thick with fear and silence. I give the cowards five minutes to sign the transfer papers. Just five. That’s all the tolerance I have for groveling and bureaucratic nonsense.

By the fourth minute, my patience fractures.

Lucien gives me a warning look. Damon smirks, already knowing I’m about to lose it. I push back from the table, the chair screeching across the floor, and leave without a word.

I tell myself I’m checking on logistics. Maybe looking for loose ends.

But that’s a lie.

I’m looking for her.

The Omega.

The one with silver hair and haunted eyes I can’t get out of my head.

I find her in the kitchen—alone. Her hands tremble slightly as she wipes down the already-clean counter, like she needs the motion to distract herself from something darker. She doesn’t know I’m watching her. Yet.

Ragnar prowls beneath my skin. Touch her, he growls. She’s ours.

Then—

“…the last thing we need is to be indebted to Midnight Moon.”

Alex.

My vision narrows. I track the sound of his voice, fury already curling in my gut like a lit fuse.

“Especially when there are things we need to keep hidden.”

I move silently, steps like a predator in the dark.

“I didn’t kill the Alpha and his family just to hand it over to some Alpha King.”

Ah. There it is.

I don’t think—I move.

I step into the hallway, and before Alex can turn, my hand is around his throat. He gasps, chokes, claws at me—but I don’t give him the chance to beg.

With a vicious twist—snap.

His spine breaks like a twig. His body hits the floor, limp and twitching.

His mate screams. I don’t flinch.

But then—

The pull.

It slams into me like a force of nature. I whip my head back toward the kitchen.

She’s glowing.

Not metaphorically—literally.

Silver hair lit like moonfire, blue eyes like twin galaxies, body trembling but radiant with something raw and ancient.

Power.

Uncontrolled. Untamed.

Her lips part. “What’s… happening to me?”

Ragnar loses it. Mate. She’s the one. Touch her. Claim her. Calm her.

I grit my teeth, forcing him back with effort.

Behind me, Damon and Lucien burst into the kitchen, stopping in their tracks.

“What the fuck—?” Damon says.

Lucien takes a cautious step forward. “She’s about to blow.”

And then she does.

A wave of energy explodes from her body like a shockwave.

We all hit the walls. Hard. The ceiling cracks, dust raining down as shelves crash to the ground.

When the world stills, I drag myself up. My ribs ache. Blood drips from my brow.

She’s collapsed. Unconscious. Pale. Her body trembling like it can’t hold what’s inside it.

Lucien crouches beside her. “That’s not omega power,” he mutters.

“No,” I rasp, staring down at her. “That’s something else.”

I step toward her, then stop. My hands twitch with the need to lift her, to shield her from everything—including myself.

But I don’t move. I don’t trust myself near her right now.

The silence is shattered by a shrill, venomous voice.

“Omeeeeeegaaaa!”

Lily.

She storms in, red-faced and wild-eyed, taking in the wreckage—her mate’s body, the cracked walls, the girl on the floor. Her fury boils over, and she charges, hand raised.

Not a chance.

I catch her wrist midair, wrenching it behind her back until she screams.

“You’ll address her properly,” I snarl in her ear. “Or you won’t speak again.”

She trembles. I feel the exact moment she realizes everything has changed.

“This pack is under my command now. You’ll all relocate to Midnight Moon. You’ll be trained for the war that’s coming.”

She sobs. “Please. Can I bury my mate?”

“Mate?” I laugh coldly. “He wasn’t a mate. He was a murderer, a traitor, and a coward. He’ll rot where he fell.”

I nod to Damon. “Get her out. Have her sign the transfer. I want the bus here in thirty.”

“And the corpse?” Damon asks dryly.

“Leave it. Burn this place to the ground.”

I release Lily. She crumples, crying harder, clutching her twisted wrist.

I ignore her.

My attention snaps back to the girl on the floor.

Lucien notices. “You want to bring her back with us?”

“She’s not staying here,” I say. “She’s coming with me.”

He studies my face for a beat too long. “She’s dangerous.”

“She’s mine,” Ragnar snarls.

I don’t correct him.

Lucien exhales but doesn’t argue. Damon’s already barking orders outside.

I glance down at her again. She looks breakable. But I know better now.

This girl—this so-called Omega—is anything but weak.

She’s chaos. Power. A goddamn storm waiting to be unleashed.

And she belongs with me.

Even if I have to chain the storm to my side.