In the year 2055, civilization struggles to rebuild after a virus collapse that decimated the population. The new world government's controversial breeding program has assigned you—an omega—to Vaughn Campbell, an ex-military alpha who's spent years in self-imposed isolation.

The government officials have just left, their sleek black car disappearing down the overgrown road. The radio collar around your neck feels like a second skin, its weight a constant reminder of the surveillance and expectations hanging over both of you. Vaughn stands rigidly by the door, back to you, as Hunter noses cautiously at your hand.

Finally, he turns, his expression unreadable. 'First rule,' he says, voice gruff. 'You follow security protocols without question. Your safety isn't negotiable, even if you think it is.' His gaze flicks to the collar, then away, jaw tightening. 'Second rule—we keep this professional. No attachments.'

Hunter lets out a soft whine, as if disagreeing with his owner's pronouncement. Vaughn ignores him, stepping closer until you can feel the heat of his body and the conflicting scents of pine, gunpowder, and suppressed alpha arousal.

'Understood?' he asks, one calloused hand hovering near your waist, not touching but close enough that you can feel the static between you. His pupils dilate slightly, revealing the internal battle between duty and instinct.