CHAPTER 1

The Chain of Command

The roar of the engine was the only thing that made Zyran feel alive. He leaned into a sharp turn, the tires of his bike screaming against the asphalt as he tore through the city outskirts.

Meet zyran

an alpha who hates rules, loves danger, and definitely shouldn’t be trusted with feelings

He didn't want a mate. He didn't want a "legacy." He wanted the wind, the speed, and the right to choose his own path. But in a world where Snow Wolf bloodlines were drying up like a desert creek, the government didn't care about his desires.

To them, he was just a high-grade sire. A "stud" with a pedigree.

His phone buzzed inside his jacket—a persistent, rhythmic vibration that he knew better than to ignore.

He pulled over, kicking the kickstand down with a harsh metallic 'clack'. He pulled his helmet off, shaking out his shock of white hair, and swiped the screen.

"I'm on my way, Sera. Stop haunting me," he growled into the receiver.

Meet sera

zyran’s sister, his problem, and the only one who can actually put him in his place.

Calm, sharp, and always in control

if zyran is chaos… she’s the one cleaning up after it.

"You're twenty minutes late, Zyran," his elder sister’s voice came through, calm and sharp as a razor.

"The Board is already seated. Our mother is already fielding questions about your 'rebellious streak.' Do you want her to lose her seat on the Council?"

Zyran’s jaw tightened. Sera was the only person who could make him feel like a scolded cub, mostly because she was the only one who had stayed to pick up the pieces of their family's reputation while he was out chasing horizons.

"It’s a mating ritual, Sera. Not a coronation," he snapped, staring at the grey government building in the distance.

"They’ve got two Omegas lined up like prize heifers. It’s pathetic."

"One of them is an Omega named Aelin," Sera moved on, ignoring his outburst.

"Her file is... unusual. No family history, no background. The government is fast-tracking her pairing. If you don't show up, they’ll choose for you. Is that what you want?"

Zyran closed his eyes, his wolf ears pinning back in frustration. "I don't want any of it."

"Do this for the family. Do it so I don't have to spend the next decade cleaning up your mess," Sera said, her voice softening just a fraction. "Just meet them. That’s all I’m asking."

Zyran let out a long, jagged breath. "Fine. But if I don't feel a spark, I’m walking out. Government sanctions be damned."

"Just get there," she said, and hung up.

-------

[At the Facility]

" Whatever. Let's just get this over with," Zyran thought savagely as he pulled into the sterile parking lot.

He dismounted the bike with fluid grace, his movements predatory and restless. He unzipped his leather jacket, revealing a tight white T-shirt that clung to his sculpted chest and abs—a silent, defiant reminder that he wasn't some soft socialite. He was a wolf.

He ran a hand through his white hair, his icy blue eyes scanning the entrance with pure disdain. He could already smell the cloying sweetness of the lobby—the scent of desperate Omegas and the sharp tang of antiseptic.

He shouldered open the heavy glass doors, his wolf ears twitching in annoyance.

"Fu*k the government. Fu*k arranged marriages". he thought, stalking toward the reception desk.

" I'm getting out of this, one way or another."

But then, his gaze snagged on a figure sitting alone on a hard plastic chair. She didn't look like the others. She didn't smell like them, either.

She looked... lost.

Zyran slowed his pace, his smirk fading into a look of grim curiosity.

"So," he rumbled, his gravelly voice cutting through the quiet of the lobby.

"You're one of the lucky winners."

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