7

Bryan’s pov

I woke up with a grin plastered on my face. My body ached pleasantly from the chaos of last night—rage, sex, and revenge all wrapped into one hell of a storm.

I stretched lazily on the bed, my arms folded behind my head as the door creaked open.

In came three maids, eyes downcast, robes fluttering. They moved like they were walking on eggshells, scared to breathe too loudly.

Smart girls.

They knew I wasn’t exactly the picture of patience these days.

“Good morning, Alpha Bryan,” the first one muttered, bowing slightly.

“Oh, don’t get shy now,” I said, my voice husky from sleep as I sat up, letting the blanket slide off my chest. “You’re here to dress me or seduce me?”

The youngest of them flushed deep red. She dropped her gaze quickly, but not before I caught that glance she tried to hide.

I smirked. “Didn’t say I’d mind either way.”

“W-We were sent by the Alpha King to—”

“Yeah, yeah. Fix me up for the grand circus downstairs.” I yawned and stood up, shirtless, enjoying the way their eyes darted anywhere but my torso.

“Let’s not pretend I don’t look good,” I teased, walking past one of them. “Just try not to drool on my clothes.”

The boldest of the three rolled her eyes while unbuttoning the crisp black shirt she brought. “You need help with this?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” I said, stepping close, locking eyes with her just long enough to make her flinch.

Her fingers worked fast after that. Buttons up, collar straightened, tie tightened. The other two handled my shoes and coat while I kept up the pressure with occasional comments that made them trip over their own feet.

When they were done, I twirled in front of the mirror once.

“Damn. I’d fuck me,” I muttered with a wink.

The youngest stifled a laugh before the bold one elbowed her and dragged her out the room.

I laughed to myself and ran a hand through my hair. My reflection stared back—sharp jaw, expensive suit, eyes that could slice.

Now I was ready for my father’s little performance.

—

The packhouse ballroom had already begun to swell with bodies, the air reeking of power, perfume, and politics.

Banners of the Blue Rock Pack lined the walls. Our crest gleamed in silver and black, towering high above the long banquet tables stacked with food most omegas would kill to even sniff.

Alpha Baron—my father—was already at the center, laughing that fake polished laugh of his, gripping the arms of other alphas like they were best friends instead of snakes waiting to strike.

I stepped in, catching eyes. Heads turned. That’s right. I was the next Alpha. The heir. The name everyone knew even if they hated me for it.

He spotted me and waved me over like a show dog.

“Bryan!” he called. “There you are.”

I moved through the crowd, nodding casually to people I didn’t care about.

“Tonight’s important,” he murmured under his breath as I approached. “We’ve got Alpha Enzo and his Beta Ash coming in. I need you to be on your best behavior.”

I arched my brow. “Define ‘best’.”

“Shut up and look powerful,” he hissed. “We’re building alliances. I need to remind them you’re not just my son—you’re their future equal.”

I scoffed. “By making me a puppet in a three-piece suit?”

“By showing them we’re strong and united. Especially now that the rogue threats are rising.”

I held back my laugh. If only they knew half the rogues were created by your own greed, old man.

As if on cue, the doors opened again and two new scents rolled into the room. Strong. Commanding. One had that sharp bite of iron and the other—pure dominance wrapped in expensive cologne.

Alpha Enzo walked in first. Tall, broad, dark hair slicked back like a villain in a mafia movie. His eyes scanned the room like he owned it already.

Behind him, his Beta—Ash. Blonde, cold-eyed, and probably deadlier than he looked.

They both walked like war in human form.

My father stretched his arms wide. “Alpha Enzo! Beta Ash! Welcome to Blue Rock Pack.”

They exchanged the usual greetings—handshakes, fake smiles, tight nods.

“Bryan,” my father said, motioning to me, “My son. Future Alpha of this land.”

Alpha Enzo looked me over once, as if sizing me up. “He’s young.”

“He’s lethal,” my father said quickly. “And loyal.”

I gave a smirk, but my mind was already clocking how Enzo's eyes flicked briefly toward the women scattered around the hall. He was scouting. Testing.

“Speaking of the future,” my father said, raising his voice slightly for dramatic effect, “Allow me to introduce the soon-to-be Luna of Blue Rock Pack.”

He turned just as Irene walked in.

Flowing silver dress. Hair styled to perfection. Face smug and lifted like she’d already claimed the title.

She moved beside me, looped her arm through mine without permission, and beamed up at me like a trained pet.

I forced a smile and leaned into her ear. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

She smirked. “You’re lucky I’m hot enough to distract them.”

The room clapped politely as my father went on and on about our union, our strength, the future of the pack being in safe hands.

Safe, my ass.

But I nodded. Played my part. Let the world see what they wanted.

The fake laughs. The clinking glasses. The air soaked in too much perfume and not enough authenticity.

I needed out.

I slipped away from the ballroom through the side doors, ignoring the curious stares and the way Irene’s fingers tightened on my arm before I gently shook her off. She knew better than to follow me when I wore this face. The one that meant back the fuck off.

Outside, the night was quiet—just the way I liked it.

Cool airbrushed over my face as I leaned against the stone pillar outside the packhouse, undoing the top two buttons of my shirt. I rolled my neck side to side, letting the tension in my shoulders drop, just a little.

I exhaled deeply.

Inside was war dressed as a banquet.

Outside was… tolerable.

I closed my eyes for a second. Let the quiet seep in. I wasn’t in the mood for company. Definitely not in the mood for diplomacy. But the universe had jokes tonight.

Footsteps.

I opened my eyes and turned slightly—just in time to see someone heading toward the door. Tall. Broad. Dressed in a tailored black suit.

And wearing a mask.

Ash.

Alpha Enzo’s Beta.

My mood lifted instantly. Not with excitement, but irritation.

Perfect distraction.

I straightened and took a slow step forward, sliding my hands into my pockets with the calm arrogance that only came natural to me.

“You always wear that mask or you just ugly as fuck?” I asked, keeping my tone casual but sharp.

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t stop.

Didn’t even grace me with a damn glance.

Just kept walking toward the door like I didn’t exist.

That alone pissed me off more than it should have.

“Oh, I get it,” I kept going, moving beside him as he approached the steps. “Big bad Beta is too ashamed to show his mug, huh? Let me guess—you got fangs where your teeth should be or did your face lose a fight with a frying pan?”

He paused.

Finally,

But still no words. Just the sound of his boots stepping against the marble as he continued inside like I wasn’t even worth a reply.

Arrogant bastard.

I scoffed, shaking my head, watching him disappear through the main entrance like some silent, walking mystery.

“Creep,” I muttered under my breath, already heading back inside.

I barely got past the threshold when my father’s booming voice echoed through the hall again.

“Now that everyone’s loosened up,” he declared, “how about we kick this up a notch?”

Oh no.

I already knew that tone.

My father only used it when he was about to force-feed us something he thought would ‘build morale’ or show the pack how much ‘fun’ we were having.

He stepped forward, raising a goblet like some medieval overlord. “To strengthen our bonds, let’s play a game. A little something to break the tension and bring out our competitive sides!”

The room buzzed with murmurs.

Irene clutched my arm again, eyes gleaming like she was hoping it’d be a couples game. Goddess, kill me now.

“A game?” Alpha Enzo asked, his voice calm but curious.