(Aiden's POV)
When I was younger, Erevos City felt like a myth my father invented to scare me into obedience.
A place where instincts ruled louder than laws.
Where power didn't just sit in boardrooms — it pulsed in bloodstreams.
Now, as the elevator carried me toward the Sky District, the truth pressed against the back of my throat like a memory I didn't ask for. The city wasn't a myth.
It was a cage disguised as a skyline.
The mirrored walls caught my reflection — pale, composed, the perfect Serin heir — but the stillness in my eyes wasn't mine. It belonged to the one inside me who kept watch whenever I dared to breathe too freely.
Ari.
Cold. Sharp. Always at the forefront when the world required someone stronger than me.
"You're trembling again," Ari murmured from somewhere behind my thoughts.
"If you let that show outside this elevator, people will notice."
"I'm not trembling."
The denial was soft. Unconvincing.
"You're afraid."
"I'm not afraid," I whispered, but my palms were already sweating against the biometric rail.
Ari didn't respond. He never argued. He didn't need to.
The elevator doors slid open with a quiet sigh, releasing me into the glass corridor of the Serin Tower's upper floors, where the air always felt too sterile, too filtered, too perfect. The scent neutralizers hummed faintly above my head — a reminder that even the air here obeyed corporate policy.
Rows of holographic panels lit the hallway, displaying genetic maps, pheromone graphs, and quarterly profit projections. All the things that made the Serin name valuable.
All the things that made me valuable.
Today, the board had summoned me.
Which meant only one thing:
The merger.
The door to the main conference room opened automatically as I approached. My father's advisors stood around the oval table, each wearing an expression carved from ambition. A silent wave of artificial pheromone stabilizers hit me — the kind designed to make omegas feel calm.
It never worked on me unless I let it.
And today, I wasn't feeling generous.
My father stood at the head of the table. Serin Hale, a beta by designation but sharper than most alphas I had met. His eyes flicked over me, analyzing everything — posture, breathing, the microseconds of hesitation in my step.
"You're late," he said.
"I'm on time," I replied quietly.
"On time is late for an heir."
Ari surged forward inside me, ready to snap, but I swallowed him back. Not now. Not in front of them.
"We'll be joined by Hart Industries shortly," Father continued. "Their proposal is… compelling."
Compelling.
The Serin word for unavoidable.
I lowered myself into the leather chair beside him, locking my scent inhibitor in place with a soft click. My heart beat faster when the device chimed green. It always did.
Sometimes I wondered if the fear came from the device itself or the idea of what would happen without it.
"Relax," Father muttered. "You look like you're going to faint."
I wasn't, but he wouldn't listen even if I told him.
Before I could respond, the doors opened.
And he walked in.
Lucien Hart.
The man the city whispered about.
The alpha who opposed every instinct-driven stereotype simply by existing.
The only person I had ever heard my father speak of with something close to caution.
Lucien didn't walk so much as he occupied space cleanly, like the room had been waiting for him. His steps were silent, his posture controlled, his expression unreadable. Dark hair, amber eyes, and a silver-lined suit that fit him like the future was made to his measurements.
His scent hit me first — through my inhibitor.
Smoke and rain.
Steady.
Grounding.
Dangerous.
I inhaled once, and Ari stiffened inside me.
"Don't react."
"I'm not reacting," I whispered.
Lucien's gaze shifted.
And landed on me.
Cold.
Measured.
Direct enough to make the space between my ribs tighten.
Something flickered in his eyes — just a moment, barely noticeable — before he blinked it away and inclined his head to my father.
"Thank you for meeting with me," he said, voice smooth but strangely muted, as if he had built walls inside his throat too.
"Mr. Hart," Father replied. "Let's begin."
Lucien took the seat directly across from me.
Ari pressed forward again, sharpening my posture.
Ren stirred faintly, intrigued.
Ash remained a quiet shadow in the corner of my mind, as always.
Lucien placed a slim tablet on the table. "I've revised the merger terms. Serin BioSystems retains majority share. Hart Industries will oversee neural sync developments."
Neural sync.
I flinched.
Lucien's gaze moved to me again. A brief sweep, clinical but… not unkind.
"You disagree?" he asked.
"I don't like neural syncs," I said softly.
"Most omegas don't," he replied.
There was no mockery.
No pity.
Just fact.
Ari didn't know what to do with that.
Neither did I.
Father cleared his throat. "Aiden's concerns are irrelevant. He's not involved in the project."
Lucien didn't take his eyes off me.
"I think he should be," he said.
Silence folded across the room like a sudden shadow.
My stomach tightened. Ari surged.
"What is he playing at? No one speaks to Serin that way."
But Lucien wasn't looking at my father.
He was studying me.
Calmly.
Curiously.
As if he could sense the storm I tried to keep leashed beneath my skin.
"As the heir," Lucien continued, "Aiden will eventually inherit every ongoing development. It would be irresponsible to exclude him."
Father's jaw tightened. "You forget your place, Hart."
"No," Lucien said simply. "I know it."
His tone didn't rise.
His scent didn't spike.
He didn't bare teeth or posture like other alphas did.
He just held his ground with quiet certainty.
For the first time in years, I felt something shift inside me.
Ren stirred fully — a slow, amused curl of heat and curiosity.
"Interesting. Very interesting."
I squeezed my hands beneath the table.
"Fine," Father snapped. "Aiden will be involved. Briefly."
Lucien nodded once. "Thank you."
He didn't look triumphant.
Just… resolute.
And then, he looked at me again.
"Can you handle that?" he asked softly.
No one had ever asked me that.
Not whether I would do it.
Not whether I wanted to.
But whether I could.
My throat tightened.
"Yes," I whispered.
Ari paused.
Ren smiled.
Ash shifted like a dark ripple.
Lucien's amber eyes softened — almost imperceptibly — but I saw it.
For the first time, I wondered if the world outside my mind wasn't as cold as I believed.
The meeting dissolved into numbers and clauses, voices blending into a soft background hum. But Lucien kept glancing at me — not intrusive, not dominant.
Just watching.
Measuring.
Learning.
By the time it ended, my heart was beating fast, and not from fear.
As I stood to leave, Lucien's voice cut through the noise.
"Aiden."
I froze.
He stepped closer — not enough to trigger the proximity sensors, but enough that his scent, muted by technology, reached me again.
"You don't like neural syncs," he said quietly. "But you should know… not all of them are invasive."
My breath caught. "You don't understand why I—"
"I don't," he said. "Not yet."
He held my gaze.
"But I will."
I felt Ari go still.
Ren hummed with pleasure.
Ash opened his eyes, just barely.
And I — the real me — didn't know how to breathe.
Lucien stepped back.
"See you tomorrow, Aiden."
I watched him walk away, wondering why his footsteps sounded like the beginning of something I wasn't ready for.
Something bigger than instinct.
Bigger than fear.
Bigger than all four of us.
Something like destiny.