The Alpha’s Forbidden Omega
Juni stays exactly where she was ordered—between us, close enough that the bond is a live current under the skin.
The man with the crane crest does not run.
He turns, finds me, and smiles the small, satisfied smile of someone whose plan has only required a minor adjustment.
“Alpha Voss,” he says, voice carrying just far enough over the market noise. “I was told you preferred to keep your new interest behind a locked door. It seems even your doors have limits.”
His eyes flick to Juni. The look is brief, assessing, and far too familiar—the look of a man who has been given a description and is now matching it to a face.