"Prepare you," Miles repeated, the words sharp with disgust. "Like you're some kind of product being readied for the meat market."
"Miles," Julian cautioned, though there was no real rebuke in his tone.
"What?" Miles challenged, but I did something I knew I shouldn’t. I interrupted while Alpha’s were talking.
“I know what I am, what they are doing. I am being sold. I was raised knowing I would be given to whoever can give my parents the most.” The words hung in the air like smoke, too honest, too raw. I immediately regretted them. My mother would be horrified—this wasn't the carefully curated presentation she'd trained me for. I'd broken the most fundamental rule: never reveal the transaction beneath the tradition.
Julian's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes shifted—a deepening, a focusing. He studied me with new intensity, as if seeing past the polished veneer to something underneath.
"And how do you feel about that?" he asked quietly.
The question was so simple, yet so impossible. How did I feel? I'd spent a lifetime burying those feelings so deep they'd almost disappeared.
"I don't know if it matters how I feel," I finally said, my voice barely audible.
"It matters to us," Christopher said, leaning forward. His gray eyes were surprisingly gentle for an Alpha. "That's why we wanted this meeting alone.”
I stared at Christopher, searching his face for any sign of deception, but found none. Just open curiosity and something that looked like genuine concern. The concept was so foreign I almost couldn't process it.
"Why?" I asked before I could stop myself. "Why would it matter to you how I feel?"
Julian set his glass down, the movement deliberate and careful. "Because we're not looking for a possession, Lilianna. We're looking for a partner."
"A partner," I repeated, the word feeling strange on my tongue. "I don't understand."
Nicolaus leaned forward slightly. "Your parents presented you as if you were a well-trained show dog. Obedient, decorative, silent unless commanded to speak." His voice was clinical but not cruel. "That's not what our pack wants."
"What do you want?" I asked, surprising myself with my directness.
The four Alphas exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them that spoke of years of trust andunderstanding. Julian was the one who finally answered, his voice measured but sincere.
"We want someone who chooses us as much as we choose her," he said simply. "Not someone who's been conditioned to accept whatever fate is handed to her."
My chest tightened at his words. Choice. Such a simple concept, yet so foreign to me. I'd been raised to believe my only value lay in my ability to be what others wanted—a flawless reflection of their expectations, not a person with desires of my own.
"I don't know how to be what you're describing," I admitted, the confession slipping out before I could stop it. "I was taught that a proper Omega submits. That my purpose is to complement, not to choose."
Christopher shook his head, a flash of anger crossing his features before he mastered it. "That's not what an Omega is meant to be. It's what your parents want you to believe."
"Our pack doesn't work that way," Miles added, his voice gentler than before. "We don't want submission for the sake of submission."
Julian still leaning forward turned his body slightly to face me, his presence commanding without being domineering. "May I ask you something personal, Lilianna?"
I nodded, my heart racing at the intensity in his gaze.
"If you could do anything tomorrow—anything at all—what would it be?"
The question struck me,silent. Such a simple query, yet it felt like being asked to solve an impossible equation. What would I choose, if the choice were mine? My mind flashed back to when I was younger, standing in front of a shop of instruments.
“A Violin. I would learn how to play the violin.” I whispered, but loud enough for them to hear me. Because it was a secretwant I kept buried deep within me, something I dare not say again in fear of my parents getting angry.
Julian's eyebrows lifted slightly, interest kindling in his gaze. "The violin? Why that specifically?"
The question caught me off guard—not just that he asked, but that he wanted to know more. No one had ever probed deeper into my wants before.
"I saw a woman playing once," I admitted, the memory rising unbidden. "At a charity concert my parents hosted when I was twelve. She wasn't just playing the instrument—she was..." I searched for words that wouldn't sound foolish. "She was speaking through it. Free, somehow."
"Did you ask for lessons?" Christopher inquired, his expression genuinely curious.
