The Fifth Bond

Lira had learned early that defiance carried a price. Omegas were meant to soften rooms. To yield. To make themselves small enough that alphas felt large beside them. She had never mastered the art. When the council named her as a candidate for a four-alpha bond, whispers followed her like smoke. Pity. Hunger. Speculation. She felt none of it—only the cold knot in her chest. Four alphas meant power. Territory. Control. It also meant being watched. When she entered the longhouse chin up, head held high, & ready for anything for the first time, the air shifted. Four scents rose, cedar, pine, hickory, & birch sharp and overwhelming, instinct clawing at her skin before she could lock it down. The whole room smelled like a forest after a good raid and she didn’t like what that could mean. Rowan met her gaze first. Calm. Measuring. Kael’s attention burned like flint against steel. Bran said nothing—but the weight of him was undeniable. Silas smiled, and somehow that unsettled her most of all. Lira folded her arms. “I didn’t agree to submission.” Rowan’s voice was steady. “Neither did we.” She didn’t believe him. Not yet.