Chapter 2

Katherine Monroe POV:

The cedar-and-frost pheromones rolling off the stranger were heavy enough to crush the chest of any normal person, yet my gland didn't reject them at all. Beneath that terrifying pressure, a strange thread of warmth actually eased the tight ache at the base of my skull.

The man wore a custom charcoal suit without a single wrinkle. Around his nape sat a heavy, matte-black steel guard—the kind only top-tier Alphas used to lock down lethal scent loads.

He stopped two paces away from me. It was a polite distance, yet his tall frame cast a long shadow that swallowed me whole.

I took half a step back on instinct, my fingers rising to press the cold metal edge of my neck cuff.

He tilted his head down. His gaze swept over the white revocation receipt crumpled in my left hand, and his thin lips curved by a fraction of an inch.

Right then, my phone screen lit up in my palm with a text from an unknown web number.

"Sister, Hunter says I'm the only Omega he wants to mark."

My stomach churned. I was about to power the device off when the man in front of me spoke.

"It looks like Miss Monroe also ran into a betrayal today," he said. His voice was low, gravelly, and rich, vibrating right against my eardrums.

My head snapped up, my eyes narrowing. "Who are you? How do you know my name?"

Instead of answering, he reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a crumpledregistry form stamped with the exact same municipal seal, holding it loosely between two long fingers.

My gaze dropped to the paper. In bold black ink stood his name—Barrett Craft—next to a crossed-out bride's name: Delisa Daniel.

"Call us fellow sufferers," Barrett said, folding the voided contract in half as casually as if he were discussing the weather. "My matched partner failed to show up as well."

I stared into his gray-blue eyes. There was no anger in them, only a terrifyingly calm calculation and absolute control.

A warm breeze swept across the plaza, brushing another trace of his crisp pine scent across my nose. My heart skipped a beat against my ribs.

"Since both of us need a legal marriage certificate to quiet our families," Barrett said, leaning in half an inch so his low voice stayed solely between us, "why don't we work together?"

My eyes widened. I stared at this man I had met less than two minutes ago, wondering if the summer heat had damaged my hearing. A Beta courier walking past us on the sidewalk actually stumbled, staring wide-eyed at Barrett's commanding posture before hurrying away.

"Mr. Craft, marriage isn't a business memo," I said, finding my voice and keeping it frosty. "I don't need to jump into a second fire pit just to clean up today's mess."

Barrett straightened his spine, a flash of approval crossing his sharp features. "That is precisely why my offer works. A pure, mutually beneficial partnership."

He ticked the points off calmly. "We don't interfere in each other's private lives. We act as a shield against family pressure. When the contract term ends, we file for separation without drama."

I bit the inside of my lower lip. An image of my biological father, Brown Sanders, flashed through my mind—his greedy eyes when he threatened to ship me off to that sleazy old Alpha, Victor Beaumont, to secure a loan. I carried my mother's surname, Monroe—the one clean thing she left me—while Sanders had never seen me as a daughter, only as a mortgaged asset to be traded away.

According to the Marking Autonomy Act, once an Omega was legally wed at the registry, her natal family lost all legal right to arrange her match. A marriage license right now meant I could keep Sanders Holdings away from my throat and protect my work at Apex Entertainment.

"How do I know you aren't a worse trap?" I asked, squinting at his sharp jawline.

Barrett let out a low, quiet chuckle. "Miss Monroe, I run a small import-export trading firm. You are welcome to run a background check on me anytime."

My eyes flicked down to the platinum mechanical watch resting against his wrist. The casing had no flashy logo, but as a jewelry designer, I knew custom Geneva craftsmanship when I saw it. No small trader wore a half-million-dollar timepiece. Still, I needed a shield today, not tomorrow.

I drew in a slow breath and met his gaze head-on. "I have additional terms."

Barrett gestured toward the hall doors with an open palm. "I'm listening."

"First, the marriage stays strictly confidential," I said crisply. "Second, you keep your inhibitor hardware at a basic level and never use Alpha dominance on me. Third, we live separately for now."

Barrett's eyes darkened for a fraction of a second before smoothing back into calm glass. He extended his right hand, his fingers long and neatly manicured.

"Deal," he said.

I looked at his hand, hesitated for half a heartbeat, and then placed my palm against his. His skin was scorching hot, wrapping firmly around my cold fingers before we both turned and walked back toward the glass doors of the registry.