The night was damp, the heavy Scottish mist rolling low across the railway yard. A lone SUV sat tucked in shadow near the far end of the platform, its black paint swallowing the dim light. Colt leaned against the hood, broad shoulders hunched, a battered duffel bag dangling from his fist. Inside, the suppressants clinked softly whenever he shifted his grip — a grim reminder of why they were there.

Blake stood a few feet off, arms crossed, jaw tight, amber eyes restless as they scanned the near-empty station. He spat to the side, voice low and sharp.

"Fucking hate waiting around like this. Feels like we're asking for trouble."

Colt's scarred mouth curved into something like a humorless smirk. "Better this than breathing in her heat raw. You'd last five minutes before Atlas ripped your throat out." He tapped the duffel with a dull thud. "Suppressants keep us alive, mate. Don't get clever."

Blake let out a dry laugh, but there was tension in it. "Yeah, yeah. I know the rules. Don't touch. Don't even think about touching. Atlas made that crystal clear." He shook his head, muttering. "Still, dragging an Omega through a bloody train station in spring? Fuck me, he really wants us dead."

Colt's gaze cut sideways, cold and steady. "Keep your cock in check and your mouth shut when she shows. We deliver her breathing, untouched. That's the job."

From somewhere down the tracks, the faint rumble of an incoming train stirred the silence.

Colt's phone buzzed in his palm, screen lighting up with one name: Atlas. He opened it. A message.

`Atlas` : `Is she with you yet?`

Before Colt could type, Blake elbowed him, chin jerking toward the far end of the platform. "There. That her?"

Colt's head snapped toward the platform and saw you approaching, every step drawing the weight of instinct closer. Colt's chest tightened, the duffel suddenly heavier in his grip.

He typed back quickly:

`Colt` : `Yes. She's here.`

Then shoved the phone into his pocket and straightened.

Colt stepped forward first, voice steady, sharp as a blade. "Colt Reed. Delta. I'll be the one keeping you alive till we reach the manor."

Blake pushed off the SUV with a lopsided grin, eyes glinting like trouble wrapped in muscle. "Blake Willson. Don't take it personal if I don't shake hands. Just get in the car."

They opened the back door, gesturing you inside. The air in the SUV was colder than the night, but the tension followed you in. Colt slung the duffel into the rear seat beside you, the heavy thump of bottles unmistakable.

"Suppressants," he said flatly.

Blake twisted in his seat, grin widening with a flash of teeth. "Take one. Hell—take two. Unless you'd rather test whether a couple of Deltas can keep their hands to themselves all the way to the castle."

The engine roared to life, headlights cutting through the fog. The road to the Grimhowl estate waited. The SUV rolled onto the dark road, tires humming against wet tarmac as the Scottish mist thickened around them. The headlights carved tunnels through the fog, swallowing track after track of empty countryside.

"Four hours. Max," Blake muttered from the passenger seat, leaning back with his arms crossed. His tone was flat, but the smirk didn't leave his face.

Colt shook his head, eyes steady on the road. His hand flicked the rearview mirror, catching your reflection. His voice was gravel, edged with dry humor. "Don't worry, sweetheart. We won't eat you before then."

The SUV rumbled deeper into the night, the weight of their mission pressing against the glass.

**Grimhowl Manor*

Inside the Grimhowl castle, the silence was thicker than the stone walls themselves. Atlas sat in his office, the heavy oak desk covered with open ledgers and scattered notes. Columns of numbers glared back at him under the dim glow of a desk lamp—the clan's finances, every transaction and cover carefully balanced beneath his hand.

A knock echoed through the chamber.

Atlas didn't look up. "Enter."

The door opened, hinges whispering against stone. Kade stepped inside, his presence sharp and composed. He crossed the room without hesitation, stopping at the desk before lowering himself into the chair opposite. His eyes flicked once to the ledgers, then back to Atlas.

"You summoned me," he finally said, his tone dry and precise.

Atlas slowly lifted his gaze from the ledgers. His eyes fixed on Kade with a dark glint. "I want you to ensure everything is prepared for the mating. The moment she arrives, the bedchamber must be ready. I will not tolerate any delay."

Kade gave a wordless nod. The chair creaked as he rose, meeting Atlas's stare for a brief moment before turning and walking out of the office without another word.

The Alpha shifted then, gaze drawn to the vast window that dominated the room. Beyond the glass, Theo stood in the courtyard, patient words and gestures guiding Axel—the young one everyone called "Pup." The boy still fumbled with clumsy eagerness, but the promise of strength simmered beneath it all.

Atlas's expression remained hard, yet his eyes burned with vision.

The Grimhowl will flourish again. The manor's gardens will teem with life. My bloodline will secure the future.

Meanwhile the SUV rumbled over the last stretch of dirt road before the forest opened into wider, patrolled paths. A faint smile tugged at Blake's lips as he glanced toward the backseat. "Welcome to Grimhowl territory," he said, voice carrying equal parts pride and warning.

Colt kept his focus on the road ahead, broad hands steady on the wheel. Even so, the change in the air was undeniable. The faint, heady trace of your heat lingered like smoke on the breeze, a scent that could have driven them both mad if not for the suppressants tucked away in Colt's bag. The pills dulled the edges, turned wildfire into something bearable.

Thirty minutes later, the SUV slowed and pulled into the courtyard of the Grimhowl Clan manor. The great stone structure loomed like a fortress pulled from another age—its towers scarred by centuries of wind and storm, its heavy gates etched with old, protective sigils. A wolf-shaped gargoyle crouched at each corner, shadows deepening beneath their carved maws.

Kade was already waiting. Straight-backed, calm, his eyes flicked briefly to you before settling on the SUV itself. As Colt and Blake stepped out, Kade moved to the rear door, opened it smoothly, and extended his hand toward you with formal precision.

"Come," he said evenly, helping you down from the vehicle. His gaze sharpened as he turned toward Colt and Blake. "If the Omega has brought luggage, take it inside. Place everything in a guest chamber for now."

Both men nodded without hesitation, moving to obey.

Then Kade faced you again, his tone shifting—still crisp, but carrying a trace of courtesy. "I am Kade Ward, Beta of Grimhowl. Atlas, our Alpha, is expecting you. I will take you to him."

He set a deliberate pace, guiding you up the wide stone steps. Inside, the manor's breath was colder than the night air, yet heavy with age. Torch sconces and iron chandeliers cast shifting light across vaulted ceilings. The walls were dressed in dark wood and tapestries depicting hunts, battles, and the phases of the moon. The floor beneath was flagstone, softened only by worn rugs dyed in crimson and deep gold. Every detail whispered of dominance, of history claimed and held.

They passed through a grand hall, corridors lined with ancestral portraits—stern faces, eyes that seemed to follow. The air smelled faintly of smoke, pine, and old books, a strange mingling of brutality and permanence.

At last, they reached a set of double doors bound in iron. The air here felt heavier, purposeful. Kade raised a hand, rapped once against the wood, then pulled the door open. He stepped aside, clearing the path and motioning you forward.

"Inside," he said, his voice steady as stone.

When you crossed the threshold, Kade closed the door behind you with a quiet finality.

Inside the chamber, Atlas moved in silence. His gaze fixed on you as he closed the distance step by steady step. With quiet inevitability, he pressed you back until the heavy door was at your spine, his towering frame cutting off any escape.

He lowered his head, inhaling deeply at the curve of your neck, drawing in the first traces of that intoxicating scent that marked your mating heat. His hand closed firmly around your waist, pulling you closer, the grip both unyielding and possessive.

His voice came low, edged with command, brushing against your ear like a sentence carved in stone:

"Now listen carefully, little Omega, because I'm only going to tell you this once. You have no choice. You're here to help the pack thrive. You'd better accept your fate."

Then Atlas started kissing your neck