Another day, same dull skyline

Alina winced as she banged her hip bone hard into the metal wardrobe by her bed. "Ow—damn it," she muttered, clutching her side for a moment. The sharp pain pulsed down her leg. No time to baby it, though. A quick coffee, two bites of toast—her usual diet since starting work—and she was limping toward the metro again, stairs beating against her already sore joint. The elevators at Sentaris HQ were full—again. Typical. She muttered a weak "excuse me" to some Beta who didn't even move, and trudged up the last three flights. By the time she made it to her desk, her blouse clung to her back and the ache still pulsed.

Third day here and it was starting to show. The routine, the people. Ah, yes—the people. That was the worst problem. The morning passed uneventfully: graphs, reports, someone's birthday two cubicles down. She'd managed to stay mostly unnoticed—aside from him.

Damon Grant. Senior Account Strategist. An Alpha.

He'd introduced himself on her first day with a confident smile and eyes that held on her just a little too long. She'd thought maybe he was just friendly. That ended the moment he leaned in too close to "help" with a document and his scent flared so strong it made her stomach twist. Not with need, but discomfort. He smelled predatory, cloying, almost suffocating.

Today, though, she hadn't been fast enough.

The office had emptied. Most of the team had gone to the cafeteria two floors down, their chatter faintly audible through the glass corridor. Alina stayed behind. Her hip still throbbed from this morning's brutal knock against the wardrobe. The firmness of the office chair didn't help, nor did the tightness of her pencil skirt pressing into the bruise. She chewed her sandwich absently, half-focused on the spreadsheet glowing on her monitor.

That's when she heard the door click.

Not the usual soft shhk of someone walking by. This was purposeful. Alina turned her head and saw the person she didn't want to see. Damon Grant. Again. He didn't say anything at first—just closed the door behind him with a slow, deliberate thunk. The click of the lock made her blood chill. He looked relaxed, his tie loosened like he owned the entire building.

"Didn't feel like joining the herd?" he finally asked, walking closer without waiting for a response. "Smart. It's easier to get to know someone when it's quiet."

She swallowed and sat straighter. "I was just... resting my legs. Didn't feel like walking around. That's all."

He smirked.

"Oh, I've noticed that limp," he said, circling her desk slowly, like a wolf around a fawn. "Must have been a rough night?"

"Damon—" she began, wanting to scold his unsettling joke, but stopped when he stepped behind her chair and leaned in, far too close. His breath ghosted her cheek.

"Don't try to dismiss me now," he whispered near her ear, voice hoarse. "You walked in here three days ago smelling like a fucking invitation. An Omega in her prime, who wouldn't be interested?"

Her throat clenched. A wave of nausea rose in her gut. His scent was stronger now, sharp and intrusive. Damon was pushing it hard, saturating the room with that Alpha dominance. But it didn't feel good, it was suffocating. Her body instinctively recoiled, her breath hitching hard. She stood up on impulse, too fast, her bruised hip buckled and she hissed in pain. He caught her arm before she could stumble, gripping it tight. Too tight to be caring.

"Careful," he said mockingly, holding her a little too long. His eyes drifted down her body. "You really shouldn't move like that. You could hurt yourself... or excite someone with that clumsiness."

"Let me go," she whispered, trying not to let her voice crack.

But he didn't. Instead, he leaned in again, dragging in her scent, slow and obscene.

"God, I love when they tremble," he murmured, caging Alina between his body and the desk edge. "You trying to act all composed, but let's be honest, you want me as much as I—"

"Stop it!" she burst, voice shaking, eyes wide. She pushed at his shoulders, but he held her tighter, now causing pain. Alina recoiled. Damon laughed. But not like a joke had been told. It was a laugh full of control. Satisfaction. Like she was already his.

"Who's gonna stop me?" he said softly, dragging his thumb over her hip. "Those Betas out there? They wouldn't touch an Alpha. HR? They're more afraid of me than you are. Somebody has to set the rules, right?"

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, breathing shallowly. Every part of her screamed to run, to scream, to fight. But her instincts coiled tight with fear. She was physically weaker than a fully grown Alpha and she could only pray for help. Alina's eyes watered, her throat too tight to speak now. She felt like a rabbit cornered by a wolf, heart hammering so hard she thought she might pass out. And she probably would, but something came up.

A noise. Footsteps. From the hallway.

Damon froze.

He looked toward the door, hissed under his breath, and stepped back. Just enough to let go of the frightened Omega. His voice dropped into something almost pleasant.

"Well. Another time, sweetheart. We will talk about this document later," he said loudly, making sure the intruder heard. "Don't be so uptight next time. I'm just being friendly and trying to help out new pals."

He turned, adjusted his tie and reached for the door handle, opening it with unusual caution. As Damon hoped the potential witness would pass by, unfortunately for him, someone appeared before the door.